The Tombstone

Frustrated from inability to sleep in, I hoisted myself out of bed, and began my day. Today, was Saturday. I decided earlier that week to make it out to Bondi Beach and run. Run far, and run hard. 10 miles was on the agenda. Josh was out of town playing against Perth (the West Coast of Australia). Gathering my things, I stumbled a few times still waking up. I packed a huge backpack full, walked out the door, and yanked hard against the handle. I hate shutting that door. It is an automatic deadbolt so it makes a loud bang when you close it. And unfortunately I wake up the house (possibly the neighbors) when I arise with the dawn.

Moving along, I kept my pace steady uphill to the train station. Though I don’t particularly like walking uphill to the station, or walking at night after work, I can’t say I miss having a car. There is a freedom that comes with being a public transporter. I don’t have to worry about gas, or commuting in traffic, or possible accidents. I am in a sense settled into the rhythmic daily drum of the train tracks, embracing a city life I never imagined would be my future.

It pulls into the station, I board, settle comfortably into the blue cushioned bench seat. A scattered few ride along in silence. My route is an easy 2 train transition. I make it easily to Bondi Junction. Unsure how far the station is from the beach, I go in search of my gym chain. There is a location around. I find it a small walk from the station. I check-in, toss my stuff in a locker and lock it up. Phone, earbuds, and key in hand, I make my way to the streets again. Having asked for directions, I take up a hurried clip. The city noise tends to up the ante when running street-side. 1.6 miles down and I make it to the beach. Peering ahead down the coastal sea cliff trail, I groan. There is a seaside art exhibit and a thousand people crawling like ants along the path. This was the plan though. I had it all mapped out. I dodged, ducked, bobbed and weaved. Making it another mile or so and the crowds began to dissipate. My rhythm settles, my groove found.

I hug the turns and corners, scale the random stairs, and chug up the minor hills. Then I see a strange sight…. A Hillside cemetery greets a sheer cliff bottoming out at the bouncing sea. Each step brings me closer; I see my trail continue right between the drop off and the cemetery hillside. Two people running in front of me, and I was awestruck with the most clear image: a dichotomy…life and death. 

The runners stood out against the backdrop of the tombs. Their bodies sweating from the exertion, their breathing laboured but their heart beating beautifully in tune to their pace.  The tombs spread out neatly across the hillside; some tall, some short. Many with the wear and tear of the sea salt. An eerie presence amidst the color of today’s existence.

Movement vs. stillness.

Dynamic vs. static.

Beginning vs. end.

Incomplete vs. complete.

And then I saw two frames. The frame of death and the frame of life. Not as they were right there in front of me, tombstones versus runner, but as they are in representation to me. The guys running may not believe in Jesus. If they do not, the extent of their fate awaits them just a few meters to their right. And they run right by with little acknowledgement that it looms ahead. Maybe they fear it, maybe they question it, maybe they ignore it. But it’s there. Death at the end of a short life. 

Then I run by. And I believe in Jesus. And I see. I see my life. Not in terms of beginning and end as the image playing out in front of me but in terms of life and life only! My life, not created by self, or accident, but by God's hand..Hands that formed me in my mother's womb. And Hands that were pierced so that my life wouldn't be determined by which side of the tomb I'm on. That tomb does not represent death to me. It doesn’t represent stillness or the end or completeness. It represents life! It is no longer me living now, one day dying then. It is me living now, and me living then. Either side of the tomb, there is life! Because of Jesus Christ I run beside the tomb, and I don’t fear it; I don’t question it; I don’t avoid or try to get around it. My life was built through the tomb. The tomb of Jesus. At one point, it represented death. The death of Jesus. But Jesus didn’t allow the tomb of death to hold him there. He moved, He lived, He forgave, He conquered, He rose again!!

Someday when I pass from this life, the tomb will not be my end. It will be the end of my relentless battle with sin. It will be the end to diseases that plague my body, the end of limitations I face, the end of suffering I endure, the end of injustice I see.

The end of many things. But also, the most beautiful beginning of way greater things.

The beginning of life eternal; the beginning of praising Jesus endlessly; the beginning of the party I was always meant to find; the beginning of life redeemed with the one who created and loves my soul deeper and stronger than any other.

Many of us dislike death because it can mean the ending of moments with our loved ones. But for me, I rejoice in the tombstone. My tombstone, when erected, will mean I have come into the presence of the One I love most. My One and Only. My life now is lived for and with Him. My life then will be lived in His presence adoring Him for Eternity.

The tomb to me is Eternal Joy. The greatest gift. What is the tomb to you?

Watch this and Praise the Lord: click here