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When I was young and invulnerable, I talked boldly
about death. After all, I thought when a person
knows Jesus, death is merely moving into better
quarters. I encouraged dying patients to talk about
death and got annoyed with other nurses and the
doctors who habitually avoided the topic. I smugly
lined up all my personal affairs, but, deep down,
I knew I wouldn’t die for a long time.
I'm
older now, and my bravado in the face of the enemy
is not so brazen. Yes, the Bible tells us that death
is an enemy, “the last enemy to be destroyed” (1
Cor 15:26). I have lost too many friends and family
members to death. Surely, they are “in a better
place,” but I miss them. There is a hole in my heart,
and it hurts. I don't want to think about death
anymore, but ignoring the enemy does not win the
battle.
The psalmists faced death squarely, calling out
to God in their distress. In Psalm 107 we read,
“They drew near to the gates of death. Then they
cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he saved
them from their distress; he sent out his word and
healed them, and delivered them from destruction”
(vv 18-20). Psalm 116 describes the agony of dying,
“The snares of death encompassed me; the pangs of
Sheol laid hold on me; I suffered distress and anguish.
Then I called on the name of the Lord: ‘O Lord,
I pray, save my life!’” (vv 3-4). Death is destruction.
Sometimes God rescues us from it; sometimes he doesn't.
However, the psalmist assures us, “Precious in the
sight of the Lord is the death of his saints” (Ps
116:15).
The
psalmists were not alone in their complaints. “In
the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers
and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to
the one who was able to save him from death” (Heb
5:7). Even Jesus faced death with trepidation, despite
knowing with certainty that “I am the resurrection
and the life. Those who believe in me, even though
they die, will live, and everyone who lives and
believes in me will never die” (Jn 11:25-26).
It's
okay to fear death. It's okay to hate that last
enemy.
A
friend who has suffered chronic illness since his
teens has given me a new appreciation for the crush
the enemies portions of the psalms that most
of us would rather skip. He uses them to express
his anger to God because of his disabilities. Lashing
out at death and suffering is entirely appropriate
because they work to destroy what God has created.
The psalmist retorts, “Do I not hate those who hate
you, O Lord? And do I not loathe those who rise
up against you? I hate them with a perfect hatred;
I count them my enemies” (Ps 139:21-22).
Death
brings separation from those we love and from everything
familiar. We feel guilty fearing death. We know
that when we die, we are simply going to be with
Jesus, and that ought to be thrilling for us. Instead,
we grumble like my children on the day after Christmas,
when told that they had to pack up and go visit
their grandparents in Virginia. Even though they
knew they would get more presents and lots of attention
from their grandparents, they would plead, "Why
can't they come here? We want to stay in
our own house with our new toys and our friends!"
The
apostle Paul wrote to Christians in Thessalonica
who were grieving the death of some of their friends,
“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers
and sisters, about those who have died, so that
you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.
For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again,
even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him
those who have died” (1 Thess 4:13-14).
God
expects us to grieve. It would be inappropriate
not to grieve. However, our grief is different from
those who do not believe. We have hope. We know
that in heaven, precious relationships will be restored.
We will be free from pain, suffering and misery.
We will rejoice with our heavenly Father and the
Lord Jesus Christ.
God
understands that we'd rather stay here with our
toys and our friends, in the comfort of our own
home, but the psalmist reminds us that "For
when they die they will carry nothing away; their
wealth will not go down after them" (Ps 49:17).
In other words, “You can't take it with you.”
Our
hope is for something better than the best we could
possibly experience in this life. It is that hope
that we are privileged to share with those who have
no hope. We hang on to that hope. We are comforted
by God's Word. But in the meantime, we grieve. —JAS
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