20 It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in any way, but that by my speaking with all boldness, Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or by death. 21 For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain. 22 If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which I prefer. 23 I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better; 24 but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you.
Philippians 1:20-24
I heard recently–I can’t remember where–that all human fear is ultimately fear of death. There are the obvious examples, like acrophobia. I’m not actually afraid of heights: I’m afraid of plummeting to my death.
But there are less obvious connections. Let’s think about what it means to be human. We are fundamentally tribal. We cannot survive alone. When I go elk hunting, I’m truly independent–except that I’m with a group who helps me out (mutual assistance) and I bring with me food, shelter, and tools that I obtain from the vast interconnected human society. If I had to go alone without any of these supplies, for more than about a week, I probably wouldn’t survive.
A human who is in a tribe survives, and may thrive along with their tribe; a human who is cast out of their tribe is in imminent danger. So many of our social fears come back to this connection. Why is someone afraid to do something embarrassing? At some primal level, they know that sufficient embarrassment could result in banishment and death.
And this is not altogether ridiculous, even today. Suppose the “embarrassing” thing a person does is to tell their parents that they are gay. There is a non-zero chance that their parents will throw them out. In fact, 40% of homeless teens are LGBT; 80% of those are homeless because their family rejected them in some way. Keep in mind that roughly 7% of the general population is LGBT. What happens when someone is homeless? Well, nothing good, at least not as good as being in a stable, supportive family. Also, LGBT homeless individuals report more abuse, violence, suicide attempts, and other negative experiences than straight homeless individuals.
So, fear of being shamed is rightly coupled with fear of death. But why should we fear?
In Paul’s letter to the church at Philippi, he wrote those famous words: “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Paul knew that one day, he would see God face to face. That he would meet Christ and dwell with him forever. To die would mean to be glorified. Knowing that death is not the end, he was bold to preach the Gospel. He could live confidently as an outspoken apostle.
Paul did pay an earthly price for his defiance of social norms and the Roman Empire. He spent years in prison, and was most likely martyred. And yet, he left a phenomenal legacy: the Christian church as we know it. Around one-third of the New Testament was written by, about, or in the name of Paul. He founded churches around the Mediterranean that survived when the Jewish homeland was destroyed.
So for Paul, to live was Christ: while he lived, he followed his calling and built a movement that endures to this day. And to die was gain: he entered into God’s presence when his work was done.
Where am I allowing fear of death, in the form of fear of embarrassment or shame, hold me back from proclaiming the Gospel?
Where are you living fearfully, instead of boldly?
What danger is the Holy Spirit leading you into, knowing that God will carry you through?