The Sentence of Death

04.01.14

2 Corinthians 1. 9 indeed, we had the sentence of death within ourselves so that we would not trust in ourselves, but in God who raises the dead… (NAS)

The above is a fragment of a larger statement. Paul had previously written a very weighty letter to the Corinthian Church addressing a host of issues ranging from his credentials, to immorality, to abuses, to just the normal ebb and flow of church life. The Church at Corinth, like churches today, was made up of people, and wherever one finds people, one finds fallenness, incompletion, selfishness, ambition, and on and on. Paul wanted to help that church to learn to deal with these things and become effective in their witness for Christ.

So, Paul wrote a second letter at some point later, and in that letter he began to share how he was dealing with some of the things they were dealing with. And he said, it hurt. He said it was frustrating. He said it was painful. But here in this little verse fragment, he said, he gave it all over to God, “… indeed, we had the sentence of death within ourselves so that we would not trust in ourselves, but in God who raises the dead…” If Paul had his way he would’ve swooped in, saved them, fixed them, and restored them to spiritual health and vitality. All on his own. All without God.

But here is a lesson for us, and especially a lesson for me: kill all of those feelings and thoughts in me that would have me attempt to take the place of God in another’s life – or even in my own, for that matter; sentence them to death. Accept God’s sentence of death on all of those things for they rob us of true dependence and fill us with the false hope of independence: God, I can handle this! The brutal death of foolishness isn’t a bad thing…

Yesterday, a younger member of our pack had to eat some humble pie: he flunked the driving test of the Oregon Driver License process. He flunked big time: speeding in a school-zone; nearly hitting two pedestrians; improper left turns into oncoming traffic. The DMV person who rode with him was very pale when they returned. The younger member of the pack was embarrassed and crestfallen at his performance. The reality hit him: you’re not ready.

When I try to intervene in someone else’s life I need to have this printed on my eyelids, or tattooed on the back of my hand, or wherever and however I can get the message: You’re not ready; you’re not equipped. But God who raises the dead is… Thankfully, God doesn’t get pale at my attempts to right wrongs, but He does want me to learn the lesson of the sentence of death. On myself; in my own attempts; at my foolishly rushing in where angels dare not tread.

Paul didn’t give up on this Church. He came to their aid but he only did it with God’s help, presence, and instruction. I’m no different; I’m accountable to the same protocols.

Father, for me, I need to know in my overly sympathetic, eager, and hasty empathetic heart, that I am incapable of coming to somone’s rescue without You leading the way. I routinely ignore my sentence of death. I foolishly think, aw, this ain’t no big thing. But every time I substitute me for You, it’s a big deal. Forgive me. Help me. Humble me. I need to live under the sentence of death within me so that I would not trust in me, but in You, who raises the dead. Amen.