The Death of Death

I have a working relationship with death, but we are not friends.  He stirs within my heart a concoction of anguish, hate, gratitude, and hope, so forcefully that he leaves me speechless.  Even now, as I sit at this counter in my kitchen, I will admit that I have typed and erased—typed and erased—typed and erased—as I try to articulate my thoughts on death.  I know that we all must die; I understand that death is a part of a greater plan for the living; I believe that death opens the door that leads to a better place; but even when considering these truths, I cannot help but come back to this simple fact:  I don’t like death.

 

I have had to encounter death in a variety of ways while working as a bedside nurse and now as a Nursing Supervisor.  I have held the hands of my patients as they took their last breath and I have made every effort as part of the hospital emergency response team to keep death from taking one who still clings to life.  I have stood with the heartbroken in quiet rooms, in chapels, and in morgues as they mourn the loss of someone they love.  I have cleaned the bodies of adults, young people, and even babies so that their families might be able to see them and say their final goodbyes.  It is an excruciating honor.  I love the people, I love the souls, I love the joy that awaits the Christian on the other side, and I hate the death.

 

I don’t like death because he is unpredictable.  In one person’s world he might appear as a gentleman, kindly stopping the death carriage and delivering his passenger to the grave, as described by Emily Dickinson.  In another place he incites the cry, “Do not go gentle into that good night.  Rage, rage, against the dying of the light,” words written by poet Dylan Thomas as he pleaded for his father to remain in this life and not to die.  I have seen him compassionately end suffering, but I’ve also seen him unexpectedly and tragically barge into the lives of the happy and healthy.

 

I don’t like death because he causes tremendous pain.  I don’t like death because he disregards dreams and future plans.  He does not care about numbers, he is not concerned with timing, and he will not be bothered by fairness.

 

I don’t like death, but I will not fear him.

 

I will not fear him because I know his origin.  Death was born of sin and his presence in this world is rooted in darkness.  The power of death did belong to the devil, but when Jesus died on the cross, He rendered the devil powerless and freed us from the fear of death (Hebrews 2:14).

 

I will not fear death because thirty years ago I was lowered into the watery grave of baptism where I died to sin through the blood of Jesus and now I live for righteousness (1 Peter 2:24).  I have already died the death of eternal consequence.

 

I will not fear him because I know that his days are numbered.  Death will taste his own cryptic medicine when Jesus Christ abolishes him forever at the resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:26).  Yes, death will die along with all of his grievous side effects:  “and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying.  There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4).  I look forward to that day and I thank God who gives us victory over death through His Son (1 Corinthians 15:57).

 

Because I will not fear him, I want death to know exactly where we stand:  I respect his role in my mortality, but I know that he has no power over my soul.  I realize that I have an appointment to keep with him, but I know that ultimately the only engagement that matters is when I go to meet Jesus in the air (1 Thessalonians 4:17).  I recognize that death can change my life in an instant, but I know that this moment, right now, is mine to live…and every moment counts.