Barring a spectacular miracle of God, there is soon going to be a death in my family. My heart breaks over it. Too young. Too soon. Too painful. Too unfair. Too much.
Yet we do not grieve in the same way as those who have no hope. Because I believe in God and believe his word, I believe we are eternal beings, and the time we spend in what we call life is merely a passage on a never-ending journey. From the eternal perspective, death is not the bold demarcation line we make it out to be. It is merely a transition from one phase of eternity to the next. Grievously painful for those of us who are left behind and who will miss our loved one for the rest of our earthly lives, but a joyous graduation for the one making the transition.
A friend recently gave me the book Come Thirsty by Max Lucado (2004, W Publishing Group, Nashville, TN). One chapter in particular, titled "When Death Becomes Birth," has been a great comfort to me as I sadly await the inevitable news from my hometown. Here is an excerpt:
You, as all God's children, live one final breath from your own funeral.
Which, from God's perspective, is nothing to grieve. He responds to these grave facts with this great news: "The day you die is better than the day you are born" (Ecclesiastes 7:1). Now there is a twist. Heaven enjoys a maternity-ward reaction to funerals. Angels watch body burials the same way grandparents monitor delivery room doors. "He'll be coming through any minute!" They can't wait to see the new arrival. While we're driving hearses and wearing black, they're hanging pink and blue streamers and passing out cigars. We don't grieve when babies enter the world. The hosts of heaven don't weep when we leave it. ...
Your death may surprise you and sadden others, but heaven knows no untimely death: "You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed" (Psalm 139:16). ...
For all who doubt his power, Jesus has three words: "Lazarus, come out!" (John 11:43). ...
Heaven-happy Lazarus doesn't question the call. Perfect understanding comes with a heavenly passport. He doesn't object. But had he done so, who could have faulted him? His heavenly body knows no fever. His future knows no fear. He indwells a city that is void of padlocks, prisons, and Prozac. ... Would anyone blame Lazarus for saying, "Do I have to go back?"
But he doesn't second-guess the command. ... With a wave and within a wink, he's reunited with his body and waking up on a cold slab in a wall-hewn grave. ...
We read and may ask, "Why did Jesus let him die only to call him back?"
To show who runs the show. To trump the cemetery card. To display the unsquashable strength of the One who danced the Watusi on the neck of the devil, who stood face to clammy face with death and declared, "You call that a dead end? I call it an escalator."
"Lazarus, come out!"
These words, incidentally , were only a warmup for the the big day. He's preparing a worldwide grave evacuation. "Joe, come out!" "Maria, come out!" ("Bridget, come out!" "Matthew, come out!" "Jack, come out!" "Honey, come out!" "David, come out!" "Ruth, come out!" "Jason, come out!" - Ed.) Grave after grave will empty. What happened to Lazarus will happen to us. ...
When this happens -- when our perishable earthly bodies have been transformed into heavenly bodies that will never die -- then at last the Scriptures will come true:
"Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?"
(1 Corinthians 15: 54-55)
Till then, where does that leave us? It leaves us checking our list of friends. Because Lazarus called Jesus his friend, Jesus called Lazarus from the grave. ...
Dread of death ends when you know heaven is your true home.
Yes, we grieve, as we should. We are going to miss our loved one, and mourn for what might have been done with a few more years. But our grief is soothed by the balm of hope.
