“For to me, living means living for Christ, and dying is even better.” ‭Philippians‬ ‭1:21‬ ‭NLT‬‬ 

I am a reader. I have been since childhood. When I was about middle-school age a family member gave me a bookmark that said, “My books are friends that never fail me.” That sums up my childhood relationship with books. I depended on that steady friendship. 

At one time, reading was my method of escape and adventure. I could go places in my imagination that weren’t possible in my real life. I could imagine myself as the bold and daring lead character in the story, rather than the scared and timid girl I was. 

Later on, reading became my way to learn about the world and then about being a Christian. One of my favorite types of books to read is biographies. I learn so much from reading about people. Reading about great Christians of the past inspires and challenges me. Somehow those people lived for Christ in the midst of great difficulty,  at great cost and accomplished great things for Him. 

I don’t think anyone will ever write a book about my life, but I want to live that way. Their inspiring stories challenge  me to wonder: What does it mean to live for Christ in 2021? In the midst of a global pandemic? Let’s think about that together. 

It means to live without fear. Living without fear...at all? Fear is a natural reaction to danger. God made us with the ability to fear for our own protection. So, no fear at all is not really the goal. But, there is a difference between healthy fear for our protection and the kind of fear that keeps us from really living for Christ. I might be afraid of getting sick or hurt, or being humiliated or losing control. When fear keeps me from whole-heartedly living for Christ, then that fear is a problem. 

Fear was a main motivator for me at one time, although I didn't know it. I think that my biggest fear was, and still is at times, a fear of making a mistake. Making a mistake would invalidate my existence and make others mad at me. When I became a Christian I feared that making a mistake might make God angry at me and lead to punishment. Fear kept me from making choices because choices always have the risk of being the wrong ones. 

After many years I  made the decision that I don't want fear to be the reason I don't do something. I have learned to accept that making mistakes is part of life, although I still try really hard not to make them! To remind me of my decision, while visiting Eleanor Roosevelt’s Valkill home in Hyde Park, NY, I picked up a magnet with a quote attributed to her: "Do one thing every day that scares you." For me, sometimes that means making a choice even when the “right” choice isn’t clear. No choice at all is just as wrong as the wrong choice. Most choices don't have eternal consequences. They don't irretrievably ruin life. In most cases, God has given us the ability to choose and as long as our hearts are determined to honor Him, He will bless those choices. 

Don't let fear hold you back, my friend. Go forward with God. When good people stumble, He lifts us up! (Psalm 37:23-24, Proverbs 24:16)

It means to focus on sharing my faith in whatever my limited sphere might be right now. Sharing your faith does not always mean standing on a street corner or ringing a doorbell and proclaiming the truth of the Gospel. Sharing your faith might look like casually sharing your salvation experience with a co-worker or even your children. Sharing your faith might mean obviously walking away from water-cooler gossip or offering to pray with a struggling neighbor or pitching in to help them with an overwhelming task or being exceptionally kind to the harried grocery clerk with a smile behind your mask and a “God bless you and thank you” as you check out. Sharing your faith looks like Jesus. It looks like loving and serving others because you belong to Him. Ultimately, sharing your faith looks like love. That's what Jesus' love looks like. (Romans 5:8, John 3:16, 1 John 4:19)

When I worked at a public middle school, sharing my faith looked like listening, a lot! My position at the library front desk meant that I saw every person who walked in, staff and students. I often found people sharing struggles and victories with me. Sometimes I had the opportunity to speak encouragement or share my personal experience of faith with them. Sometimes I would tell them that I would be praying for them and would be sure to do it. Sometimes I had to opportunity to step out of the public eye and pray with them.  Many times I prayed for the school while walking the halls. When it came time to leave the school and begin my first pastoral position, that also was a way to share my faith. Here’s the bottom line, my friend: Your life speaks loudly and when you chose to make Christ your priority, people hear that message, even when you don’t have the opportunity to use a lot of words. 

It means that I keep an eternal perspective. I guess this is something I say a lot, but I think that it is the key to living for what really matters. All of this that we are experiencing, what we see and hear and feel, will fade one day. The truly beautiful, meaningful and satisfying will replace the temporary, fleeting and unfulfilling shadows of this life. Our faith in that future can fuel us through the current complicated and continuing crisis. 

If you and I are truly living for Christ in 2021, then what mattered to the first followers of Jesus is what matters most to us. What mattered to them was to tell as many people as they could about the love of God demonstrated through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for sin. Living for Christ meant to take as many people as possible with them to heaven. If they found themselves facing persecution and death, and many did, their goal was to honor Christ in the way they endured. As Americans, somehow we have translated the national goal of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” to our Christianity. Those are our American blessings, but not the goal of our Christianity. The goal of Christianity is Christ. Nothing else. 

What are you enduring right now, my friend? What heartaches are filling your days? What fears for the future? What questions? What hurtful words have been spoken? What disappointments? In the midst of all of it, you can endure with grace, dignity and faith when you focus on the eternal future. This is not all there is. That is the true hope of Christianity. Jesus made the way for us to taste eternity now through the presence of His Holy Spirit in our earthly lives. And then He made the way for us to feast on the presence of God in heaven for ever. There will be nothing more satisfying. Whatever is satisfying on earth will pale in comparison with the beauty of our Heavenly Father’s home, our home forever, our inheritance. That’s the prize worth fighting this life for. 

So, dear friend, are you ready to live for Christ here and now? It is never easy in any generation. Past great Christians had their challenges and we have ours. But you and I have the opportunity to live for Christ in 2021. We have the opportunity to show people what it looks like to live without fear, to share our faith right where we are and to keep an eternal perspective in the midst of now. The book of your life is being written at this moment in time and God is using your story to encourage and inspire someone else to live for Christ. 

Really, He is! Go for it!

Key thought: Living for Christ in 2021 touches every area of my life. 

A Scripture to consider: “For to me, living means living for Christ, and dying is even better.” ‭Philippians‬ ‭1:21‬ ‭NLT‬‬ 

A YES challenge: What challenges are you facing right now? How have you been responding to them? How might keeping an eternal perspective alter your response and better honor Christ?

Prayer: Dear Lord, You know the challenges that I am facing right now in 2021. I want to live for You. I don’t want to be distracted by difficulties. I don’t want fear to keep me from making the choice to put You first. I want my life to declare Your goodness. Help me to keep an eternal perspective so that what I see now takes its proper place. I love You, Lord, Amen.