Death is unnatural

I hate death. 

A few minutes ago my brother called to tell me our Uncle had suffered a massive stroke during the night.  My Aunt woke up when she heard his breathing change.  Immediately she called 911.  The paramedics arrived and transported him to the hospital.  Once there, the doctors determined that he had such a horrible sepsis infection that it caused the stroke.  After working feverishly to stabilize and save him, my Uncle Dave—one of the sweetest men I’ve ever known—slipped away.  Like dropping a big rock in a calm stream, this set in motion a series of ripples across my entire family.  Phone calls were made, plane tickets were bought, lives were disrupted and hearts were broken.

Death is wrong.  It is counter intuitive to the relational wiring of who we are as humans.  There is a reason goodbyes hurt so much.  Because we were never created to experience them.  We are stuck in a cosmic paradox.  As spiritual beings we are meant for eternity.  Yet our eternal spirits reside in fading flesh.  A flesh that suffers the results of sin, sickness and Satan on a daily basis.  From birth forward we pursue, chase and wrestle with relational validation and connection.  While at the same time drawing closer, day by day, to the moment of our own passing.  This is not how it was meant to be.  We were intended for unbroken union.  Union with one another and union with a loving God. 

Officiating many funerals over the years, the one unifying factor is the power of relationships.  Rich, poor, young, old; relationships are what connect us.  They add value to our present.  They define us.  When they are taken from us, they are what injure us the most.  Even when death brings a release to those suffering through horrible pain, it still feels inherently wrong.

Romans 7:24 Who will rescue me from this body of death?

After hanging up with my brother I called my cousin—one of Uncle Dave’s daughters.  She and I are close in age and look like we could be brother and sister.  Upon getting the news of her dad’s passing she gathered up her seven-year-old daughter and began the drive up to her parent's house.  After a few rings she answered the phone.  The quiet pain in her voice was obvious.  She shared what she knew, choking back tears.  We talked for a few moments.  Neither one of us sure what to say.  In situations like this, it is ridiculous to ask, “How are you?”  Having been where she is a couple years ago with my own father’s death, “I’m so sorry.”, was the best that I could think to say.  Then an image came to mind; my dad standing next to Jesus, at the entrance to eternity, waiting anxiously to wrap Uncle Dave—his little brother—in his arms. 

The image of my dad standing side by side with Christ, welcoming my Uncle Dave into Heaven represents so much for me.  It reminds me that God understands the contrariness of death.  It reminds me that He understands the power of relationships.  It reminds me that death does not have the final say.  It reminds me that Jesus will lovingly restore the relationships that death attempts to take from us.

Revelation 21:3-4 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

Yes, I do hate death.  It is tragic, painful and heartless.  But I praise God that it does not have the final word.  Jesus’ redemptive work on the cross demonstrates God’s compassionate understanding of the unnatural tragedy of death.  Death is in fact “unnatural”.  It is not what was intended.  What a great battle is won when we acquiesce to the lie that death is part of the natural order of life.  Life is the natural order.  God’s every act is to restore what sin and Satan have broken.  Jesus said, “I have come to give you life.  Life abundantly!”  It is this hope, this restoration of relationships, this redemption of present pain that carries me through to the time when all will be restored to its natural order.