Tip of My Iceberg

Over two hundred years ago, after our Constitution was ratified, Benjamin Franklin wrote in a letter to a friend in France, “Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency, but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.”

He’s not the originator of the phrase; the progenitor was Christopher Bullock in his book, “The Cobbler of Preston” in 1716. Franklin, however, is best known for using it.

Irrelevant of who said it first, the statement holds truth. Taxes have been around for about 5,000 years; the first record of them is in ancient Egypt when Pharaoh collected taxes on the grain raised. Death has been with us since the time Adam and Eve determined to do their own thing. Death became the result of their disobedience to God.

What is really permanent in life?

Life and death go hand in hand. Spring is upon us with the budding of new life in plants and trees. We have new fawns cavorting around our back yard and fuzzy baby Sand Hill Cranes wandering throughout our property.

The reminders of death are all around us. Cemeteries are part of the scenery, especially in small towns where every church has its own plot of graves. Our son and his family in Pennsylvania actually have an old Civil War cemetery on their property. Old gravestones that tell stories all their own.

Everything that has life will die. I’m not a fan of cut flowers–they die too quickly. (It took my dear husband a while to figure that one out.) Even green plants rooted firmly will eventually die, as will magnificent trees. We’ve lost pets to death, and we’ve seen the remnants of animals eaten by predators. We’ve lost more friends and family than I care to think about.

Death happens.

People don’t feel comfortable with death. It’s an end of what we know and understand, the loss of the presence of someone special to us, Death takes away what we value–life itself.

Photo courtesy of Diane Picchiottino on Unsplash

What happens when someone dies for you?

Charles Dicken’s “A Tale of Two Cities” takes place during the French Revolution and tells how the aristocracy took advantage of the poor people and the upheavals that results from the clash of classes. Two men, Charles Darnay and Sidney Carton, who look remarkably alike, fall in love with the same young woman. Darnay is a French aristocrat who’s put on trial during the revolution for crimes committed by his family. Carton is a lawyer who is a drunk and is apathetic about life in general until he falls for the same woman as Darnay. His life isn’t suited to hers, so in an act of love and sacrifice, he trades places with Darnay and is killed in his place.

Sacrificial death. Done from a compassionate heart.

It’s what Jesus did for all people who long to be free from shame and guilt.

“This is real love–not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins.” 1 John 4:10

“He Himself is the sacrifice that atones for our sins–and not only our sins but the sins of all the world.” 1 John 2:2

Good Friday is upon us, and the question often is asked what makes it good? Jesus died in our place to take on the burdens we’ve sustained. He was executed as an enemy of God so we could become part of God’s family. He carried the burden of our wrongdoing so we could be freed from our immorality. He died so we could live.

That Friday was a time of deep sadness for many. They had no idea that death couldn’t keep Jesus from accomplishing the work He came to do.

He gave up His life so He could offer us new life in Him.

Bodily death will happen to each of us. Some will live longer lives, but ultimately these tents of flesh and blood can’t last forever.

What Jesus offers us will last.

Life in Him. Hope for a future.

Because He loves us. Individually.

That’s a very good thing.