I fear we feed on death.

The culture tries to disguise,

And escape the cold, hard fact.

Vanity numbs us to our demise.

False senses of peace refract.

I fear we feed on death.

“On death,” he says. Ha, he is no prophet!

Has he not heard of “going concern”?

Life is to capitalize! And turn a profit.

Profit on living and life; you fail to discern.

With this aptly spoken, we will now adjourn.

You fail to see, because you’ve failed to learn:

I perceive that you feed on death:

Out with the old and in with the new!

This is your scripture and in it you feed.

Upon expiration, what will become of what you accrue?

Your focus on consumption, not consumer, is a poisonous seed.

I perceive that you feed on death.

If anything, sad sage, you’ve proven our point.

We strive to meet needs and desires of life.

The world is ever changing, each new day a disjoint.

We distract from futility, and death, and strife.

Death is what we shy far from, and despise;

To do other is incredulously unwise.

You are indeed fools, muffling the people’s cries.

You see, it is undeniable you feed on death.

You market things that break down in but a few years;

This does not distract, but proves life’s brevity and end.

These cover symptoms at best; they don’t appease people’s fears.

Cover-ups, and false solutions prove nobody’s friend.

You see, it is undeniable you feed on death.

Hear examples of how you feed on death:

Plant or animal must die, for the belly to be fed;

Name me a movie, song, or story, where death has no dominion;

Petroleum is compressed death, then burned to get man ahead

Causes of war are painted as difference in opinion.

Here are a few to prove you feed on death.

You have no basis for stating such trash!

People cry out for solace from the true fact.

We, last of all, would think on a truth so brash.

No option is better, all else has no impact.

What solution could you have to the materialistic gods?

Your death is upon you too, and that relentlessly prods.

Your gods imposed on culture breed nothing but odds.

There is a solution to feeding on death.

Past status quo embraced a memento mori,

And did not conflict with your precious carpe diem.

This dichotomy between the two is the problem to the story.

A solid marriage of the two is the proper theorem.

This is the beginning to not feed on death.

You must recognize death.

It is a reminder of life’s value and beauty.

It makes one ponder what is a worthy investment.

To live life in knowledge of death is life’s sacred duty.

This is the answer, according to truth’s assessment.

You must recognize death.

It is… impossible to reconcile the two.

I cannot perceive how to live with this.

Live bold. In view of death? How can it be true?

I have not the ability; I must, sadly, dismiss.

I wish to believe such a wondrous notion,

But there is within me no such devotion.

That anything of earth could create such? That would be a costly potion!

There is something greater than death.

I said that your scriptures are based in the temporal,

There’s another Scripture, of triumph in death and life.

The hole in our hearts, and fears, though several,

Are satisfied and death plunged deep with a knife.

There is someone greater than death.

Do not feed death, retreat death!

Look deep in you, nothing you try can satisfy.

Die to the old, and be born anew, is the Gospel story;

Your former creed, but Christ-modified.

It is a life filled with hope and ending in glory.

No need to feed death, death has retreated.

“The cross is laid on every Christian. The first Christ-suffering which every man must experience is the call to abandon the attachments of this world. It is that dying of the old man which is the result of his encounter with Christ. As we embark upon discipleship we surrender ourselves to Christ in union with His death—we give over our lives to death. Thus it begins; the cross is not the terrible end to an otherwise god-fearing and happy life, but it meets us at the beginning of our communion with Christ.

When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die. It may be a death like that of the first disciples who had to leave home and work to follow Him, or it may be a death like Luther’s, who had to leave the monastery and go out into the world. But it is the same death every time—death in Jesus Christ, the death of the old man at his call.”–Dietrich Bonhoeffer The Cost of Discipleship

 

I recently had an epiphany; I mean a straight up Jesus moment, a glimpse of undeniable truth beyond myself. I realized that I had been fooling myself all this time. I had been talking like I am called to do great things for Christ: fight the hypocrisy, restore love in the church, and lead the church.Based on my talents, abilities, and personality this seemed completely correct, even divinely ordained. 

But my intentions were so deceived that it took a divine oracle to smack me back to reality.

Most people don’t want to be that guy: the guy in the lime light, the martyr for the cause, the one ridiculed for what was right, the one destined for greatness whether through suffering or a blessed ministry. I am not most people; my greatest fear is that I won’t be that guy. In a sense, my fear would be that I would toil for the Lord, and all people would remember, or not remember, of the ministry I did for the Lord would be an unmarked tombstone. 

I could not settle for this. I am way too talented, way to sold out for Christ, way to charismatic, way too useful to have a mediocre role in the kingdom. Then the Lord woke me up. I was at Fido’s with a very good friend. I had treated him to coffee because he was stressed from some stuff, and I was there for advise and so he could vent.Not but 10 minutes into all that he went straight up into a mini revival. He said that it was preaching to himself, but I was deeply convicted. 

Aside from having my theology completely restructured in a period of an hour, I also realized truly how “not sold out” I was to Christ. The Lord asked me, “Are you content with an unmarked grave?” I wasn’t. I duked it out with the Holy Spirit all the way back to campus. I fought so hard, and struggled within myself, and then…I let it go. Who am I? I am a servant. I am here for the sole purpose of whatever He has planned for me.

“Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
    the days that were formed for me,
    when as yet there was none of them.”–Psalm 139:16:

It’s like I heard John Piper say in a seminar once, “True Christianity means I must be willing at any given time, on any given day, under any set of circumstances to leave it all and die.”

And I realized that I had been liberated from too much, and was too convinced of the power of the cross, and too burdened by the darkness that ensnared the people around me to quibble with God over the particulars of my ministry. I decided to be content with an unmarked grave.

Thus it begins; the cross is not the terrible end to an otherwise god-fearing and happy life, but it meets us at the beginning of our communion with Christ.

The human heart–a strange and fickle thing.

Forgetting not offense to it past done,

Yet quick dismiss offense that it did bring.

It alienates good virtue’s loved one.

 

What one?– It is good sense the heart estranged.

From Scriptures, backward will the heart offend?

To think upon the cross and grace arranged,

Then not out pour in kind that grace to mend?

 

A parable to dwell upon dark heart!

A servant, mercy shown, did not the same.

Now dwell upon this long! These words impart:

Do not so dare to treat Christ’s death a game!

 

Forgive in all, to all, without excuse;

Do not subject the cross to such abuse. 

Weary.

Such unrest.

So much stress.

I have fallen again.

I cannot find the light.

The darkness is closing in fast.

My bitter defeats are sapping my energy.

Precious grace melts away the dark,

Rescue from pain of shame.

The chains lie shattered.

Joyful tears flow.

I’m reborn.

Peace.