Perceiving Death

This summer I attended a memorial service for a woman who died of cancer at a younger age and she was not a believer in Jesus Christ. I find it interesting to observe how unbelievers perceive death and cope with the lost of a loved one compared to believers. What would it be like to personify death? Would he be a friend or foe? Jesus Christ makes all the difference.

Death Without Christ
Your name. I have heard of your name. It grips my heart with fear, throbbing in unbelief. Until now your face remained shrouded by the darkness of the unfamiliar. Once you were a stranger, a rumor, a reality in wait of birth. Now, I know you too well. Oh, how you are a master of disguise, shifting from mask to mask, face to face, masquerading as a friend. You stole the face of someone familiar. You clothed yourself with the soft skin of someone I love. You came as a thief, ready to strip and tear something precious to my heart. You are a consumer of unforeseen dreams. The walls of my home are lifeless and bitter. Laughter is silenced by wails of sorrow. I reach out for my beloved’s warm hands that speak silent words of comfort, but you have hardened those soft hands into a corpse, a shell of a person. You have ripped out my knees and drown my eyes in tears of sorrow. You have shattered my bones with heavy blows of grief. Joy is a distant stranger. Happiness is a lost friend. Love remains only as a fragmented memory. Oh, how swift and final is your work. Loneliness is my only companion. Part of my soul has died with you my love.

Your name. I have heard of your name. Your name is Death.


Death With Christ
I am envious of you. You are now clothed in eternal life. The face of your creator is unveiled before your eyes. The poison your heart has pulsed through your veins for so many years is purified and new. Your mind that is plagued with the disease of anxiety can finally draw in precious breaths of rest . Pain, suffering and loneliness are merely forgotten memories. My heart yearns to be with you, longing to feel your soft embrace. Hope. Hope is not simply a prisoner's fantasy, but a living, breathing reality. One day, one day all things will be made anew when God breathes eternal life into my lungs as He has yours. This is not a final goodbye. Death is merely a gateway, an escort home to the ones I love. Mourning and grief will not consume my heart like those without hope for I know that, "Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? For sin is the sting that results in death. But thank God! He gives victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Cor. 15:54-56).

Your name. I know your name. Your name is Life.