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We All Fall Down
by clint wagnon
The great plague that swept through Europe during the 17th Century was known as “Black Death” to those who watched it ravage through the countryside like a sadistic serial killer at night. It received little press when first reported in May of 1664, but by May of the next year over 600 people had died. A month later, 6,000 were dead. By August—31,000. In the end, over 25 million Europeans fell victim to the plague.
It was called “Black Death” it is thought, because of the big black splotches that appeared on the victims’ bodies and because of the blackness of ignorance that surrounded its cause. Many suspected it was caused by polluted air, but we now know it was carried by fleas on rats. Bizarre rituals were developed to treat those infected with the plague. Because it was believed that the polluted air was the cause, the sick were led to walk in circles around gardens of roses, hoping the fresh fragrance would flush out the diseased air in their lungs. Doctors placed posies in their patients’ rooms. For those near death, petals were burned and ashes placed near the nostrils, hoping it would cause the victim to sneeze out the pollution. Oddly enough, historians tell us that during this period birth was given to a nursery rhyme that is still sung by children today. It is reported that those pushing the death carts through the streets of London collecting corpses could be heard chanting the words:
“Ring around the roses. Pocket full of posies.
Ashes, ashes. We all fall down.”1
Morbid isn't it? But absolutely true. We all fall down. That dry fact is utterly inescapable. Although none of us enjoy the thought of it, there will come a day when the last pen stroke is made in the story of our earthly lives. The nursery rhyme is sobering.
Usually, we do not deal with death unless some terrible tragedy jerks us violently back to the reality that we live in a fallen world, on a raging planet, where it rains on the just and unjust. Some senseless slaughter or natural calamity shocks us to our core and we are reminded of the heartbreak that God tastes every day as millions slip into eternity. This great enemy called death is the natural consequence of the fall... and because of it, we all fall down.
In one of my favorite movies, Braveheart, there is a gripping scene where William Wallace, confronted with his own mortality, makes the remarkable statement, “Every man dies. Not every man really lives.”
There is more truth pouring from those words than Hollywood could really appreciate. It is true that we all fall down, but how many of us ever really get up in the first place? Earth is peopled with dead men walking. People who haven’t a clue what living really is. People who have confused thriving with surviving and living with existing.
It gives all the more punch to Jesus’ phenomenal promise, “I have come that they might have life—life to the fullest.” There is an underlying implication made in that promise, and if you blink, you might miss it. While the great philosopher Forrest Gump would say that life is like a box of chocolates, I think it is more like a puzzle.. but hey, I'm no Forrest Gump, although I too am not a smart man. I think Jesus is saying that in everyone’s life there are some missing pieces, and he wants to fill them up. He wants to complete us.
The sociologist in me is convinced that people of all cultures are intrinsically aware of a void in their lives. Something more to life than just living. Something transcendent. Something immortal. They know the nagging nothingness, and are on some level aware of something greater.
The something greater they seek is life. Life made new. Life to the full. Life that lasts forever. It is the life that only comes from being reborn into a new spiritual existence. Call it an awakening. Call it a quickening. Call it what you wish, but it involves more than the rhythmic beating of a cardiac muscle.
“What will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul?” Jesus asked. In the end, will the size of our 401k really matter? How long will the conquered corporate ladder last? Will the fleeting pleasures we chased like rabbits ever be able to satisfy? Is that really what life is? These things are trumped by the profound truth of a simple nursery rhyme.
I think the answers are more obvious than ever. We have accumulated and accomplished more than ever dreamed, and yet we are a generation of seekers. Many still haven’t found what they’re looking for. A little help… it’s not a place or possession or philosophy, it’s a person. He holds the missing piece. He will lead you to life in living color...life that lasts forever.
It is true. Death comes to us all. We all fall down. So let's get busy living. |
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1 information source on Black Death: Charles Swindoll |
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