Sit and Reflect

March 30, 2024 | By Anjelina Gonzalez Cornell ‘27

image description: solitary chair sits in an abandoned building

I think about dying. I think about dying a lot. I think about dying at some point almost every day. Each time death appears before me, I fall into its emptiness. I am nothing; life has no meaning. Everything is pointless, devoid of substance. 

Everyone thinks I’m funny, bubbly, and an overjoyous addition to the room. I disagree. I am not any of those things; my flesh is quite the opposite. To care about others is a burden; talking with others drags to the point of unbearable pain. My presence disgusts me; cursed I am to live with myself, my past, my pride, my guilt. I have no hope. [1]

It is for but a fleeting moment that these thoughts catch my attention. Something, Someone, pulls my mind to other places where only sweetness abounds. I have Jesus; his Holy Spirit resides with and in me.  

I think about death daily. Then, I think about the Savior. I think about the Savior who sacrificed Himself as flesh, who stands with a hand outstretched as I step into darkness and cross into a resurrection of life. My flesh falls away by His death and suffering, and a desire for goodness spurs me to action. 

God’s will overtakes me; joy consumes me even in my sadness, comforter in my despair. [2] I laugh because He is holy; a celebration pours from the new blood in my veins. I desire to be more like Him; my need for salvation grows more evident daily.  I live in the hope that others may know of His sacrifice and our salvation. I care for others deeply as He first loved me unconditionally. I weep for their sorrows and pray for their hearts to find repair. 

Shame is forgotten; Christ humbles me. I am new. Maybe the things said about me are true, yet it is all Christ’s doing. 

Today is the Sabbath, a day of rest. Today is Holy Saturday, a day Christ rests, having taken on the weight of all humanity’s sins. God rests after He does something extraordinary. God rested on the Sabbath after He created us; Christ rests in his death for us. 

Christ redeemed all of humanity in his death on the cross. His final breath, a sealing of our long-awaited hope in the promise of redemption. Yet, a new day unfolds, and Christ lies in the grave. The world sits in silence, a somber Sabbath. 

A promise persists: Christ will rise tomorrow, the third day. With bated breaths, we sit, anticipating the break of a new day. 

Yesterday, redemption came in the permanence of death. Yesterday, we reflected on the weight of His suffering for our shortcomings. Today, we reflect on the awaited resurrection. 

If Christ were nothing more than a man whose sacrifice could not conquer the great divide, humankind would continue in endless darkness, despair, and suffering. You and I would stumble through this life aimlessly without purpose until its bitter and inevitable end. 

So, we place our hope that tomorrow, truth will arise. We are the walking dead; Christ is the flowing water of everlasting life. We sit in awe of Christ’s hand that reaches into the depths of Sheol, pulling our heads above rough tides to be illuminated by His light.  

I sit and reflect, respectful and in awe. Who am I without Christ’s death and resurrection? 

Sit and reflect. 

References: 

[1] Job 14: 1–14

[2] 1 Peter 4: 1–8