Thinking Christianly About Death

These words are from Dallas Willard in his book Divine Conspiracy:

"So as we think of our life and make plans for it, we should not anticipate going through some terrible event called 'death,' to be avoided at all costs even though it can't be avoided. But, immersed in Christ in action, we may be sure that our life--yes, the familiar one we are each so well acquainted with--will never stop. We should be anticipating what we will be doing, three hundred or a thousand or ten thousand years from now in this marvelous universe . . . . Of course something is going to happen. We will leave our present body at a certain point, and our going and what we leave behind will not seem pleasant to those who care for us. But we are at that point simply 'absent from the body and present with the Lord (2 Cor. 5:8).' . . . To those who remain behind there is an obvious, if superficial, similarity between the body of one who sleeps and that of one who has stepped into the full world. But there is no intention in this language to say we will be unconscious. Consciousness continues while we are asleep, and likewise when we 'sleep in Jesus' (I Thess. 4:14, Acts 7:60)."

Willard then goes on to describe two pictures for death:

"One was made famous by Peter Marshall some years ago. It is the picture of a child playing in the evening among her toys. Gradually she grows weary and lays her head down for a moment of rest, lazily continuing to play. The next thing she experiences or 'tastes' is the morning light of a new dewy day flooding the bed and the room where her mother or father took her. Interestingly, we never remember falling asleep. We do not 'see it' or 'taste' it.

Another picture is of one who walks to a doorway between rooms. While still interacting with those in the room she is leaving, she begins to see and converse with people in a room beyond., who may be totally concealed from those left behind. Before the widespread use of heavy sedation, it was quite common for those keeping watch to observe something like this. The one making the transition often begins to speak to those who have gone before. They come to meet us while we are still in touch with those left behind. The curtain parts for us briefly before we go through."

pp. 86-87 from the Divine Conspiracy

I hope you find this comforting like I did.

Thoughts of Heaven, of Eternal Life.

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" John 11:25-26

When Jesus took Peter, James, and John up on the mountain and he was transfigured, Moses and Elijah appeared in conversation with him. Scripture tells us that Elijah did not die but that he he was taken up, like Enoch in Genesis 5:24. Moses died, and I believe it is Jude who tells us that the devil and arch angel Michael argued over his body.

The appearances of Elijah and Moses with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration speak loudly to me about life after this life. Or should I say, our eternal life continues through the passage of death. Death is a doorway into another experience, a more sense-full experience. For those in Christ, it'll be pure joy of the senses and soul, for those outside of Christ, it'll be torment.

After thinking about the Transfiguration, I was thinking of my Abuelita (whom I love(d) dearly and who I wish were incarnate), who died just shy of her 89th birthday in 2004 and of my father-in-law, Paul, who died at 55 years old in 2002 due to liver cancer. I wonder if they remember me as I remember them? I think they do. I don't think God wipes out memories post-mortum.

I relish the thought of their rememberances of me. I wonder if they are aware of our fond thoughts for them? Probably.  As far as I can discern, Abuelita and Paul were both in Christ. Their absence takes something away from our lives; our lives were richer and more joy-filled because of their presence. Yet, memories of them nourish me. Right now, that's all I have. Memories of the departed. And when my family passes away in the next 50 years or so, it'll be as if Abuelita and Paul never existed because no one will remember them. The same is probably true about me. Once those who knew me walk through the threshold of death, will the memory of my existence be wiped from the face of the earth?

Whatever the answer, I thank God that we outlive the memories of those who outlive us. Although in this life we are a passing breeze that does not return, our memories of life and loved ones will continue and we will still live once we cross the passageway of death.

I do look forward to my reunion with Abuelita and Paul and all my loved ones in Christ...and all the saints I have yet to meet. My most earnest hope and prayer is that those who are not yet in Christ will be awakened from the dead so that they too might live.

O death, where is your sting?

I've been stung by the death of one our closest friends. Carole died overnight in her sleep. I talked to her two weeks ago, telling her how much I loved her and her husband, Christy, and how thankful we were to spend part of our Christmas vacation with them. Carole said, "We love you too, come again anytime." We said our good-byes. Little did I know it was the last time I would say good-bye to her.

She and Christy were the most hospitable and generous people I have ever met. If they saw a need, they met it. We received two laptops from them, as working poor graduate students, we couldn't afford our own--we never asked for them. We didn't have internet, we used it at their house or at the church. Did we need a car? "Use the Bravada" even when we never asked. "Are you hungry? There's some food in the fridge or stay for dinner. We'll order pizza or get subs from Wegman's." "Do you need a place to host youth group events, come to our house." "Do you need to print things off or pictures? Use our paper free of charge." They had a community pool--parents and youth could come anytime. I never knew who I'd find in the pool during the summers when I stopped by. In the winter, all had access to the hotub. We spent countless hours at the Mathewsons talking about God, theology, the mundane, church, people, policies, computers, food, dancing with the stars--innumerable conversations. We did youth work there. We knew the dogs and they knew us. It was a home away from home. Being there I realized--this is how the church is supposed to be--comfy--in peace and sharing whatever we have with those who are in need, or just those who happen to show up on our doorstep that day. Encouraging one another.

If we had to tally line-by-line all the material things they gave us and pay them back, it would be in the thousands. Although we were extremely close, they showed love and generosity to hundreds, maybe thousands of people. They were parents to the badly parented. Friends to all. All sorts of students, people and acquaintances were free to roam in and out of their house any time-- day or night. You don't believe me? Well jazz musicians from Eastman School of Music could be found in their living room playing the piano and all sorts of instruments at 2a.m. and beyond. They were listening ears full of great advice and wisdom.

Why did Carole have to die so young? She was in her mid-fifties. There's plenty of more times that we and hundreds of others will need her and Christy. She was a smiling face, with a speaking voice of an angel--that greeted us when we stepped into the living room. She had her first two grandsons born this year and another on the way in a couple of weeks. Her grandkids won't know the love we experienced. It doesn't seem fair. I know her ways will live on through her children and Christy, but still.

God says to all of us, "Do not mourn like those who have no hope." We're not prevented from mourning, only from hopeless mourning. If there is no after-life, if this is all there is--how depressing. We really will never see those who died in Christ again.

But, Jesus says that he came to give us life...not only life in this life, but life after death (John 11:25). There is some comfort in that for those of us who are mourning. But none of us is ever ready for when death knocks on our or another's door.

I am almost 30. Not guaranteed another day of life. Perhaps half my life is gone already. There is so much to do! So much to be! So much love to give and receive! So much to experience. I know that I will never do and be and love and experience as much as I want to.

But it reminds me that life is precious. We can't waste it being depressed (I am not talking to those with chemical imbalances) or fighting. It is to short for that.

O Lord Jesus! Help us to live, really live, really love, to really be, in this short life--it is a passing breeze that does not return.