Nothing helps with focus like a deadline, and there’s no deadline like death. My dad died. Several friends as well. My end is drawing closer. Third quarter, God willing. Middle age. What matters? What am I about?

I found an answer fifteen years ago, a particular phrase that stuck with me: “to present each other as pure offerings to God on the Day of Christ.” I want to be holy, and not holier than thou—holier with thou, by God’s grace.

This phrase or intention is mostly distilled from Philippians 2:12-18:

Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure.

Do all things without complaining and disputing, that you may become blameless and harmless, children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast the word of life, so that I may rejoice in the day of Christ that I have not run in vain or labored in vain.

Yes, and if I am being poured out as a drink offering on the sacrifice and service of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all. For the same reason you also be glad and rejoice with me.

We each stand alone at the last. Yet St. Paul indicates that we witness each other’s judgement in some way. He expects to rejoice in their salvation on the Day of Christ. Now, we are all members of one another. Life is a gift. Our time is from God. How else to spend it than working out our own salvation, together?

Spending Time

It is often said that spending time with friends and family is the true meaning of life, the thing we can expect, on our deathbed, to wish we had prioritized more highly. There’s truth there. To complete the sentiment, we should recognize that our relationships are not static. God is working in our lives, through each other. The time I spend with my loved ones is most valuable when I am actively working to love them more fully with the love of God, to see them as God sees them. We might also elevate the sentiment to include the Divine Liturgy, time spent with friends and family in communion with God.

Love God with all my heart, mind, soul, and strength. Love my neighbor as myself. Love one another as Christ loved us. Love my wife as Christ loved the Church. Love my enemies and pray for those who persecute me. This is how I work out my own salvation with fear and trembling. This doesn’t happen online, for me. This happens in person, face-to-face. This happens in my household, in our house. This happens in my parish, in our parish hall. This happens at coffee and over dinner. This happens on the street and in the hospital and at the graveside.

Nothing Else Matters

At my day job I’m deep in the world of high tech, awash in different visions of the future and human personhood, competing claims of allegiance. What unites them all is atheism. DEI. AGI. The singularity. The simulation. Rebuilding cities. Building new cities. Escaping to space. Accelerating this. Conserving that. Chasing dreams. For what? It’s all empty. There’s no knowledge of God. There’s no prayer. There’s no humility. There’s no repentance. There’s no self-denial. There’s no ascesis. There’s no growth in holiness, no escape from my own sin. There’s only swirling mire, crooked and perverse. All is done with complaining and disputing.

Except when it isn’t. The Holy Spirit is everywhere present and fills all things. As I write, I’m thinking of individuals I encounter in my work that lift my spirits, that exhibit the fruit of the Spirit. I’m also thinking of conversations God has brought about in recent years, when I’ve spent time with colleagues face to face. “So, Chad, what makes you tick? Is it faith?” “So, Chad, are people religious in Pittsburgh?” “Chad, I’ve never told this to anyone, not even my wife.”

Making tents is good. Worshiping tents is bad. I want to worship God. I want to be holy. I want to be present to the people in front of me—physically in front of me. I want to love them and lay down my life for them. I’m bad at it and I want to get better every day. I want to sharpen and be sharpened, like iron.

In the end, I want for us to present each other—by the power and grace of the Holy Spirit, together with all the saints—as pure offerings to God on the Day of Christ. To Him be all honor, glory, and worship, of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages! Amen!