To live is Christ, to die is gain

“For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.  If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me.  Yet what shall I choose?  I do not know!  I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body.”  Philippians 1:21-24 NIV

Paul wrote this letter, and throughout my life I had read it maybe a hundred times before Jordy left.  After that occurred, I knew how he felt.  It is late in the day, and I am sitting in an Airbnb in Kiowa, Kansas which is just a few miles from nothing.  If “between Hardtner and Hazelton, Kansas” is your reference, you are in the middle of nowhere.  This part of Kansas still has open range.  Every few miles you cross a cattle grate that keeps the cows from wandering too far, but road maintenance is minimal.  Every few miles you might encounter a cow in the middle of your path and the cow is not the one in the wrong place. 

I know Kansas has a reputation for being flat but there are some beautiful rolling hills here.  Today I could see a storm that made its way around the area.  I drove through some rain but the center of the storm dropped massive amounts of water and seemed to work its way through the area on the opposite side of the horizon from where I was.  That storm and my trusty Subaru circled each other all day.  It really was beautiful.

This article will be posted the day before the 16^th anniversary of the wreck that took our Jordy and the Youngers son Cody.  I am wondering where in the world all that time went.  I remember being mad at time.  Time. 

That night, the first family members from out of town got to our house and for some reason I remember just being in denial that she had been gone long enough for people who didn’t live in Hays to hear the news and travel to us.  It’s ironic that this couple are usually fashionably late for family get togethers, but they were the first out of town family there that night.  I was mad enough that I had to go outside.  I was not mad at them or at God.  I was mad at time. 

I went out into our back yard.  There was a light rain and I just stood out there.  By the time I went back in there were even more people had arrived.  Time sort of became an enemy and it kicked my rear for a long time, and still does at times.

Tonight, I still find myself looking at time in disbelief.  It is going so fast.  At first, I kept a count in my head of how many days it had been.  Adding one to any number is pretty easy to remember and it’s not like you have to ask yourself “Now what was I trying to remember again?”  I didn’t miss thinking about that count more than a few times in 10 years. 

That’s not really healthy.  I fought it for a while and then realized I could change the way I think about it.  Every day that passed could still be counted but instead of marking the days since I last saw her, they could mark the number of days closer I am to seeing her.  I like the sound of that much better.  By the way, as I sit here I am 5,839 days closer, but who’s counting?

Every person you ever meet has pain or loss or regret or the lack of a Savior to deal with every day.  Do you ever wonder if you are the “walk” God placed in their life so you can point them to Him?  To clarify, sometimes you are.

What if you are not actually trying to walk with Jesus?  You don’t have to be a television infomercial type of evangelist.  If God put you there, all you have to be is you.  He can handle the rest.  We have to be willing.  Are you willing?

Challenge:  I do not want to be known for death.  It is obviously a part of our life but I want to walk in a way that glorifies Jesus.  At times I still do it, but for me to look only at death I have to move blessings out of the way to see it.  I like looking at blessings better.

Rick Claiborn