And yet it is important to remember that while he was writing this, he was under guard and not a free man.
We know from other parts of the Bible that Paul is an apostle of Christ, having come to this station only after Jesus's death and after persecuting the fledgling church for some time. His conversion and the influence he had thereafter is perhaps one of the most amazing testimonies within the Bible.
Through Paul we are shown an example of God's transformative grace; a grace that redeems hate and turns it to profound, unabashed love. It was through this love that Paul came to know the people of Philippi, a town on the outskirts of Rome that is reported to have been populated by military veterans.
Toward the end of the first chapter, we come to a verse that makes me uncomfortable; "For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." (Philippians 1:21)
Life could have been so much harder for Paul. And indeed, it becomes much harder in time, but
during the writing of this letter, he's pretty much all right. He's not in a cell, he's able to visit with people who come to his rented house, and he's not being flogged or otherwise humiliated every day.
If I were in his shoes, I would have been thanking God that things weren't worse. And yet, Paul says he longs for death, where he can be in Christ's presence. Nothing else mattered to him. Anything he went through was a matter of suffering alongside Christ.
But the core of what makes me uncomfortable with this verse is the idea of death as freedom. The idea of longing for death makes me squirm and shake my head because, to be frank, dying terrifies me. I recognize that it is the inevitable conclusion of every life, but I'm of the mindset that I want this conclusion many, many years from now.
It strikes me now that fear is nothing but a lack of trust. I claim to know and love God, and I do, but somehow I do not trust Him with my soul?
When my son was learning to swim, he was terrified of deep water. I had to coax him from the shallows, to reiterate over and over that it was going to be all right, that I would keep him safe, but he didn't believe me. And I'm not going to lie, that hurt.
As a parent, it has always been my utmost desire to keep my child safe and happy, why couldn't my son trust me?
He did eventually let me lead him deeper and now he swims like a champ, but I remember the struggle to get him there. Which leads me to the question; how much does it hurt God when I allow this fear of death to constrain me?
I know that it limits my effectiveness and it limits my relationship with God. If my every waking moment is hounded by anxiety, I lose sight of Him. My view of God becomes obscured by every worry and the fear growls so loudly in the corners of my mind that I cannot hear Him speak.
So how does one overcome the fear of death - or really, fear in general?
For me, I often imagine Jesus standing beside me, shaking His head and saying; "Oh, ye of little
faith." And that is enough to get me through the moment. But overall, I remind myself that God is so much bigger than death. With that perspective, all the other worries seem laughably small.
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