living dead.

I've been thinking about death a lot lately. I've been having some health problems, and after a thorough exploration of my symptoms on google, Cancer is the only answer. Which led into a now staunch belief that I will be dead inside of a year. So then, of course, I started thinking about how I should live life differently, given my upcoming funeral. If I really only had a year, I'd live much differently.

I would say crazy things, like telling my heartbroken friend that only Jesus can overcome the pain she's telling me about. I would sing LOUD, and put in all the runs and octave changes I always hear in my head. I'd lift my arms in worship ALL the time, including during the first chorus and the instrumental bridge, when no one else seems in the mood. I would pray like a crazy person--like I hear it in my head--loud and passionate. I'd enroll in seminary.

Seriously. Other Pentecostals would shoot ME weird looks. They'd be like, "What's she on?" And I'd be like, "A death sentence."

But see, that would not be a death sentence. That would be a sentence to Life. Because the impulse to worship extravagantly isn't motivated by impending death, but is an outpouring of the freedom to live. So it's a life sentence. And I already have one of those.

So why do I live dead sometimes? I'm not talking, by the way, about my silly obsessing over my imaginary diagnoses. I'm talking about the way that I don't share life with people when I should, that I sing softly, and that I keep my arms to myself in worship.

I live dead when I don't trust, and when I don't hope.

I can't be the only one.

Maybe, just for a day, in reverence to my short year on this earth, I'll live one day completely alive in Christ.

Tomorrow? If I make it that long...