As I read through the stirring epilogue of Love's Executioner, by Irving Yalom, I realized that in the course of reading the book, I learned more about the world, the human person, and myself. But there was something missing.
You see, Yalom, views death as one of four primary issues at the root of all human problems. (His assertions on these root matters are found in his prologue, which is worth the price of the book.) As the reader progresses through his unbelievable array of case studies, it has not to reach the conclusion: Death is not merely a key factor in some cases, but in all cases. Over and over again, no matter what the intitial problems happen to be, there is a brutal confrontation with death, which reveals the meaninglessness of much of human life.
At some point, the job ends, the children leave the house, and a single person or couple is left with their waning years and more or less money. Thoughts of death are fought back, but cannot be contained. The crisis of this mental confrontation is drawn out earlier in the or more explicitly with the death of others, or the dissolution of family bonds. A familiar line in group therapy in explaining why it is important to not be alone in dealing with thoughts of death: It is much easier to know that there other ships sailing alongside of your own. Solitude only makes it worse.
And most issues, at root, wrestle with the question of life's meaning. Why? Because life will eventually end in death. Why should I lose weight? Work through marital difficulties? Get over another's death? Eventually, it seems that most people will settle into a depressed fatalism, religious belief, or frantic fight for their youth and invincibility. But if each of these are simply coping mechanisms, than none of them deal with the essence or meaning of death. More in a moment...
I am now a third of way through the book, Born to Run, by Christopher McDougle. Thus far, one of the great epiphanies of this book is that much of what makes a remote Mexican tribe elite ultramarathoners is the simple concept of love. They do not run for competition or prizes, but they run everywhere because that is what man was made to do, and they love it. The same is said of an Olympic Czech runner from the 1950s, who though running with hideous form and few supports, blew away all other world runners. He just loved to run. When the Soviet Union crushed the Czechs, they told this runner to either be the Soviet Ambassador for running or clean toilets the rest of his life. This man chose toilets.
Both Yalom and McDougle's books deal with meaty concepts: death and love, but do not explore the meaning behind them. Psychology can only approach death's door, turn around, and advise others on strategies of approaching it as well. It is not allowed to knock. Likewise, love is a wonderful concept, but it lacks a substantial core. Eventually the body breaks down. What love sustains us in those moments? To truly love letting our legs or minds fly under the glorious light of day?
Death has a cause: sin. It is universal in its scope and always carries suffering in its way. The only way to confront death is to understand it in its proper perspective, not merely cope with it. The Bible sets death in its proper place and then gives us the keys to approach it without fear, for Christ has removed its sting and victory for all who have faith in Him, by God's grace alone. This is not a coping strategy. It is a right understanding of truth, which infuses life with meaning and hope.
Likewise, love is what drove Christ to the cross--love for His sheep and love of the Father and His glory. Love is what conquers death (SoS 8:7-8)--not ours, but that of Christ. It is in Him that we live and move and have our being. It is this love that allows us to not merely cope with the looming shadow of death, but to live with profound joy in the light of day at the same time.
