Death.
It’s all around us. There’s no avoiding it. We drive past cemeteries. We see it on the news. We read about it in the paper. From time to time, we experience in our own families. And it’s never a happy occasion. While as a Christian I rejoice in the hope I have in Jesus, death isn’t a minor inconvenience on the way to heavenly bliss. It’s an ugly troll that stands at the end of our earthly lives – all too prepared to do its worst to us before we cross over into eternity. Death is an ugly beast that ravages hopes, destroys relationships and breaks the heart.
I remember when I was young, hearing a person waxing lyrical about death saying – “It’s beautiful really…death is just a part of life.” At the time I agreed. Not anymore. Death isn’t beautiful, and it’s not a part of life: it destroys it.
One of the most confronting and draining aspects of being in pastoral ministry (or, in my current situation, in the funeral industry) is having to face death on a much more regular basis than many people. I have attended more than 350 funerals and have conducted more than 140. I have conducted services for people ranging from 4 – 107 years old. Over the last 20 years, I’ve visited the sick, the ‘getting-sicker’, the dying, and the grieving. I’ve had the “please pray” phone calls when a relative is walking that fine line between life and death. I’ve seen numerous desperate attempts to hold back tears, when really, they should be shed freely and fully. I’ve heard the voice of grown men breaking as they speak of dead loved-ones.
Death sucks.
And while it’s draining to be around these hard things, it’s also a privilege to be part of person’s life when they walk through the darkest valleys. It’s almost a relief to be able to speak about the glorious gospel with someone who needs to try to make sense of things. However, how should Christians respond to death? The reason I ask is that so often Christians seem to skip the sadness bit, and want to jump straight to the celebration of their loved one’s entry into the presence of Christ. I’m not comfortable with that.
No matter what our hope for the afterlife is, the death of someone close to us should naturally cause grief. It’s normal (though everyone’s experience of grief will be slightly different). It’s distressing to know that the unique personality and qualities of the deceased person cannot be experienced by us any more – at least not in the same way as before. To be separated from those we love rips the fabric of our soul in a way that’s not easily mended. It’s an awful feeling of separation and helplessness. And as such, it most normally elicits strong emotions.
For that reason it always worries me when people (especially men) are unable to express emotions they are feeling deep inside when confronted with death. There’s something unhealthy about that. All that repressed sadness and emotion will probably manifest in some other negative way later in life. Grieving and displays of emotions should be normal, even for men. Take the example of King David, when his wayward son is killed in battle:
The king was shaken. He went up to the room over the gateway and wept. As he went, he said: “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you—O Absalom, my son, my son!” 2 Samuel 18:33; NIV
Bear in mind that King David was no fancy boy. He cut the head off Goliath in his teenage years. He’d seen a thing or two. But the death of his son was too much.
What about the Lord Jesus? Jesus was a tough dude. Raised by a tradesman in an agrarian culture, Jesus was no doubt familiar with death from a young age. Yet, when confronted with the death of a friend, he was reduced to tears:
When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked. “Come and see, Lord,” they replied.
Jesus wept.
Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” John 11:32-36; NIV
Love produces tears when death enters the room. When I’m at funerals I’m always glad to see tears. In the face of death, tears are normal. Healthy. Appropriate. Shedding tears shows love, as in the case of Jesus. He saw the tears of those mourning and broke down in tears himself. When the people saw Jesus crying, it only meant one thing: “See how he loved him!”.
When Christians face death, we do so knowing that Jesus is still Lord and still enthroned and will return one day to set everything right. For us, there’s hope to be found in Jesus. I especially like that picture of Jesus in the book of Revelation:
I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and among the lampstands was someone like a son of man, dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. The hair on his head was white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and coming out of his mouth was a sharp, double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance.
When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades. Rev. 1:12-18; NIV
While it’s a comfort to know the hope of being united with the living Christ, mourning and tears still have a place. When a loved one dies, there should be a deep recognition of ugliness of death and how unfair it seems that a precious life has been snuffed out. Before we ‘celebrate’ a person’s life, we should feel the weight of their loss. We should grieve – but it’s a gospel-shaped grief. A grief with hope (1 Thess. 4:13). In my experience, too many Christians want the hope that surrounds death, without the grief. I don’t think that’s a healthy or biblical approach.
spes clara 