Easter 4: Resurrection Means Dying

Acts 5:5-12
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:11-18


We cannot separate the resurrection life from the gospel’s call for death to self.  Thus far the readings for the Sundays in Easter have made reference to this in some way or another.  Two weeks ago we heard how the early Christians claimed no “private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common” (Acts 4:32); and how “as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold….and it was distributed to each as any had need.” (Acts 4:34, 35)  They learned to die to the accumulation of private wealth and the prestige and social power that comes with it, so that they might live to a new order that listens attentively to the needs of their sisters and brothers.  The first letter of John, being read in course this Easter as the second reading, reminds us that “If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8), in fact, the writer continues, “if we say that we have not sinned, we make [God] a liar, and his word is not in us.” (1 John 1:8, 10)  The writer implores us to die to our constructed sense of goodness or self-righteousness – in modern psychological parlance, our ego – and thus in humility live into the reality of God, into a shere dependence on God’s free grace and love.  In the various post-resurrection appearances Jesus consistently challenges the disciples into the truth of the resurrection by challenging them to put to death old patterns of thought, pre-conceived ideas of how things should be.  To Thomas who will trust only his senses, only his personally confirmed empirical evidence, when it comes to the resurrection, Jesus says, “Do not doubt, but believe” (John 20:27) adding, “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” (John 20:29)  Jesus implores Thomas to die to the “facts” in order that he might to the truth. 

Whether we like it or not, living the new life of the resurrection implies dying and confronts us directly with one of the most fundamental of Jesus’ teachings, a teaching which in some form or other appears in all four of the gospels: “Those who try to make their life secure will lose it, but those who lose their life will keep it.” (Luke 17:33)  Few Christians have really appreciated the centrality of this truth, how it is the only lens through which can fruitfully make any sense of the Jesus story, and ultimately of our own.  Yet, it is not simply a matter dying so that we may live.  If it were, then this dying would simply be another way of “not dying”, another way of exerting our own reality, establishing our own self.  No, the Christian idea of dying has always love as its rationale, the well-being of the other as its purpose.  It is a “dying” rooted in self-sacrifice.  And so we hear this morning from the the first letter of John:  “We know love by this, that [the Son of God] laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.” (1 John 3:16)  Neither Jesus’ teaching of dying to self nor his own willingness to embrace the cross should be interpreted as some kind of nihilism, an exaltation of death for death’s own sake, but instead as the ultimate expression of willing love and service: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13); “I am the good shepherd.  The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” (John 10:11) 

What are the distinguishing marks of the this kind of dying?  Well, we see them exemplified in Jesus’ own death, as outlined in today’s passage from the Gospel of John.  Douglas Wingeier, the theological educator and biblical commentator points out, that this death is first and foremost an act of love:  “The Father loves the Son who is giving up his life.  The Son loves the world, for which he is dying.”  Secondly, it is absolutely voluntary.  Jesus is not coerced: “No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.” (John 10:18)  Lastly, Wingeier, posits the absolute inseparability of Jesus’ death and his resurrection, the paradoxical truth that death in love and service is always somehow life-giving.  When the writer of John’s first letter tells his readers “that [the Son of God] laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.” (1 John 3:16), it is this pattern of Jesus’ sacrifical death which is referencing, a pattern to be imitated by those who seek to follow him.

Self-less, sacrificial love in its many forms is inherent in living out the resurrection, and there can be no resurrection without it.  There is no resurrection without death, there is nothing really new without – sometimes very painfully – setting aside the old, there is nothing about “us” which can be fruitfully accomplished when I refuse to set aside “me”.  It is so absolutely plain in the Scriptures; it is so absolutely intrinsic to the pattern of Christian life, a pattern set by Jesus himself who in love and service “laid down his life for us” (1 John 3:16) and thus left “us an example, so that you should follow in his steps.” (1 Peter 2:21)

Today we are asked to reflect on the places in our lives where we are dying to self.  Certainly, it is all our prayer that no one of us will be brought to the place where our situations call for a death like that of Jesus, or of any the holy martyrs who followed his example to that ultimate degree.  However, if we our commitment to love of the other, or our commitment to the Gospel brings attendant upon it no dying at all, no sacrifice at all, there is something we are missing, because the pervasive call of Jesus in the Gospels makes it clear, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23)   Where are you allowing an encounter with another, to make you die to old ideas or concepts?  Where are you sacrificing your own desires, your own willfullness, your own anger, for the well-being of a another, or the well-being of the community as a whole?  Where are you opening yourself up to the possibility that this moment, this present conflict, project, situation is not about you?  Where are you saying no to self, for the love of the other, for the sake of a larger vision, for the possibility of something more profoundly real?  Where are you changing your mind?  All these, and so many possible examples, require of us a kind of death – perhaps not as conspicuous as martrydom, but in some cases no less difficult.  They offer us the opportunity to imitate Christ.  They hold out the potential of a life more full, more abundant, more genuine.  The truth is that if we refuse to die to the hurts inflicted by another, all that happens is we become bitter, angry people.  If we refuse to die to our own desperate desire for safety through accumulation, we simply become fear-bound misers.  If we refuse to the die to dreams that will not now come true, we will miss the glory and joy inherent in the reality that is.  Each of these little deaths holds out for us the hope of resurrection, as new life, new perspectives, new possibilities arise now that we have cleared away the old.   Only by laying down our life in all manner of ways, can we ever really have the power to take it up again, to enter the joy of what it means to live in the resurrection right here and right now