The Death of Death: A Eulogy

The Death of Death: A Eulogy

JUST ONE TEXT

It only takes one text. One text to send your mind reeling, your heart churning, and your soul disjointed from its disposition of oblivious contentment. Just one text to drain the color from your surroundings, leaving everything ashen and grey.

This text had a clear topic, a clear theme, which, as I began to reflect, was something I’d been wrestling with for several days. It’s not a topic that recently appeared on my horizon, for, in many ways, I’ve encountered it before. In full disclosure, it’s a topic that, a couple of months prior, I boldly confronted only to come scurrying back in defeat. But in this text (and for the days and weeks that followed), the topic would not allow me to turn away from its frightening mien, interjecting itself into my schedule, my consciousness, and even my dreams.

Around 6:30pm on a Monday night, I checked my phone to find this text: “We have a couple in our church that had a five week old son die this weekend…The dad was wondering if you might be available to speak at the funeral.”

THE UN-WELCOMED GUEST

Death: the topic of conversation we are taught to avoid at a polite gathering even more than politics and spirituality. Labels like ‘morose’ or ‘morbid’ or ‘dark’ are dismissively applied to someone who even brings up the topic, more or less blogs about it. Nevertheless, through the din of these labels, I can hear the stifling of a revelation.

Indeed, my curiosity with our greatest enemy has led me to at least one conclusion, however tentative I hold it: the depths of God can only be approached when we are comfortable with the fragility of our own existence.

Death is a massive creature that swallows young and old, rich and poor, powerful and weak. And yet, the more I read Basil, Gregory of Nazianzus, Augustine, and Maximus the Confessor, the mystery of our ineffable God renders death nothing more than mundane.

ENCOUNTERS WITH DEATH

Yet I confess, I had a bout with death a couple of months ago…and lost. Not literally. I mean, no one close to me died and neither did I (that I am aware of). But in a dark night of the soul, I had a bout with death…and lost.

When death would visit me in the night, I was reminded of just how powerful an enemy it really is. And I was afraid. Shamefully, I confess, I had a bout with death…and lost.

It’s not as if I’d never encountered death before. Throughout my story death has surfaced with varying intensity: when I was 6 years old, my friend died of leukemia; when I was 9, my grandfather died of emphysema; when I was 15, my mom received her first diagnosis of breast cancer; between my two oldest children, my wife and I endured a gut-wrenching miscarriage; in ministry, I’ve been pulled into a back alley in the Middle East, stared down the barrel of a gun in Guatemala City, and experienced a near plane crash en route to a speaking engagement.

THE UNSEEN COMPANION IN MY STUDY

In different ways and with varying intensity, death has made an appearance in my life. And, until this text, I didn’t realize that, even if indirectly, it seems like death has been a central topic even in my study.

Recently, I finished John Milton’s, Paradise Lost, which powerfully depicts the birth of death. In Book 9, lines 780-784, Milton describes Eve’s action and nature’s response:

“So saying, her rash hand in evil hour
Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she ate:
Earth felt the wound, and nature from her seat
Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe,
That all was lost.”

After finishing Milton, I went back roughly 400 years to Dante’s Divine Comedy, and even as early as Canto 30 in the 8th circle of Hell, it was obvious that my meandering through this literary classic led me to confront the effects of death once more.

Similarly, in reading Hans Urs von Balthasar’s, A Theology of History, his masterful insights into scripture, history, philosophy, and the heart of God, reminded me that in our fallen state ‘Time’ is accurately defined by the master we submit ourselves to: if death is our master, then time is merely a measurement of death’s permeation into our individual life; if God is our master, then time, and indeed eternal life, is a miraculous gift by which we receive Him.

Indeed, death has been a persistent and un-welcomed companion lingering in the recesses of my study and my memory; yet until this text, I’d become numb.

FACING DEATH

The day following the text, in talking with the young, grieving couple, I learned the death of their 5 week old son was anything but expected. Yes, there were some complications with the birth, but the doctor’s assured them that not only was this issue fixable, but far more common than one might expect. After an initial surgery and extended time in the NICU, the baby was doing just fine…until last Thursday.

At around 9:00pm, the couple started noticing some unexpected swelling. Concerned, but confident, a team of about fifteen doctors began surgery at six o’clock on Friday morning. Yet, at 4:00pm, four doctors entered the young couple’s room bewildered; the doctors simply didn’t know what happened. There was no infection like they thought, but, after exhausting every other option, the baby’s organs were now completely shutting down. It would only be a matter of hours.

Through tears, the couple showed me pictures of their precious baby: his golden brown hair poking out from underneath a crocheted beanie made by his mama; his big brown eyes looking up at his dad reading a book; his idyllic face sleeping—tightly swaddled with a teddy bear larger than his little body. Yes there were tubes, yes there were ghastly incisions, but nothing had looked more beautiful.

This was not my first bout with death, and I would soon find out the same was true for the young dad sitting before me. In a passing comment, he mentioned his mom died of ‘depression’ when he was 12 years old, unexpectedly committing suicide.

He said, “And that is why I say I have the best dad in the world. He just stepped up…even though all he could fix for dinner was pork chops, he took care of all of us—he still takes care of us.” After a brief pause, he added: “That’s where my son’s name comes from—he’s named after my dad.”

LEARNING TO DIE

We avoid death so much that, I’m afraid, we don’t know how to live.

Most of our fragile lives consist of trying to avoid death or its ancillary partners ‘pain’ and ‘suffering.’ Whether we are talking about anti-aging creams or cosmetic surgeries, healthy foods or vitamin supplements, extreme phobias or measured prescriptions—we spend millions of dollars and immeasurable time trying to avoid death.

Yet, I fear, that without wrestling with death, we are not able to understand God’s glory. Without wrestling with death, we are not able to understand the Lord’s supper or baptism or offering or even preaching—because death is a central element in all of them.

To avoid death is to avoid the depths of the mystery of a crucified king. For our God did not avoid death; he passed through it unscathed—exposing not only the mystery but the illusion that death sells.

At this point, my thoughts on death are best summarized below in the form of a eulogy for a 5 week old baby.


A EULOGY FOR DEATH

The question of “why” will never satisfy. In times of trial, it is natural to flail; it is natural to question; and it is natural to enter into a cloud of unknowing. Like Job, when tragedy descends, we are baptized with questions of confusion and pain, centering on the elusive question of “why.” But the question of “why” simply will not satisfy.

In moments like these, the medicines of man, the words of a friend, the hug of a family member, merely dampen the pain that wells up from the depths of our soul and passes through our blurry eyes. Words fail. Silence is suffocating. And we are tempted to believe that all we are left with is the question of “why.”

But the question of “why” will never satisfy. For both short-term and long-term relief can only be found in the answer to the question of “who.”

Who is our God? Who is the creator and the sustainer of all? Who is the author and the perfecter of our faith? In moments of pain, satisfaction can only be found in the answer to the question of “who.”

So, who is our God?

Our God…is a God who weeps. Incredibly, our God is a God who weeps. At the tomb of Lazarus in John 11:35, as Jesus stares into the eyes of death, he reveals to us a God who weeps.

He already knew what was about to happen; he already knew that he would call Lazarus’s name, the stone would be rolled away, and the dead would raise to life. He already knew how the story would end, and yet, we see Jesus, God in the flesh, confronting our brokenness with tears. For our God is a God who weeps.

We serve a God who is not satisfied with the pain that we feel; He is not satisfied with the sting of death; he is not satisfied with the taste of the fruit. Our God is a God who sobs over broken creation, who mourns over lives cut too short, who cries when we, his beloved children, cry. Our God is a God who weeps…but our God is not a God who sits idly by.

He does not sit and allow death to claim the ultimate victory. For even now his Spirit is moving, even now his love is growing, and even as the enemy is raging, our God gives life. Our God gives hope. Our God is a God of resurrection.

For the sole desire of our king is to destroy the victories of our enemy and to embrace us in his arms for all eternity. As Revelation 21:4-5 promises: “He will wipe every tear from [our] eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’ He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!’”

Indeed, Our God is a God who will set all of the wrongs right. This moment included. For our God is a good father. And good Fathers do not allow wrongs to go unaddressed, good Fathers instill hope in the most difficult of times, good Fathers stop at nothing to provide for their children—even fixing pork chops when it’s all you know.

I had the honor yesterday of visiting with [the young couple], and processing the story of the last 5 weeks—the lows and the highs, the pictures and the tears, the family and the friends. And I was humbled…overwhelmed…honored to be in the presence of such good parents.

I left our meeting longing for new creation, longing for the death of death, longing for heaven, longing for your reunion with your son and his beautiful big eyes. Longing for the day when you hold hands again with your precious baby, standing outside in our Father’s new creation with the sunshine and the wind washing over your faces, preparing to go on a family hike—longing to see joy spreading across your faces as your boy’s golden brown hair peaks out from under his crocheted hat…longing to see God standing close by…weeping for joy like a good Father who has made all of the wrongs right.

You held your son through his time of greatest need, and my prayer for you is that you will let Jesus hold you now. Because in our darkest moments, one thing I am sure: our God is a God who, like a good Father, is here.


So…here’s to the death of death.

3 Responses to The Death of Death: A Eulogy

  1. I would agree that topic of death is avoided by most. Yesterday, my father I was waiting for an elevator and the death topic was mentioned by me. First, it is only fair to mention that dad is 84 years of age and uses oxygen. It would be nice to know why I mentioned the subject even though it was not directed towards his situation but mine (that of aging and losing memory). In the conversation I mentioned that people in general do not realize that death is truly lurking around the corner. Dad replied, “don’t I know that”. After sensing despair in his tone of voice I mentioned to him no one is excused from this event…we are all dying; its just a matter of time. He agreed with me.

    Since we both believe and have faith in our Lord and savior Jesus we are comforted with this yet, we still struggle with the unknown experience of death. As Dr. Wood mentioned Jesus does have compassion in this moment of loved-ones death. His example of sorrow shows me that it not unusual to experience this feeling. In closing I pray to God that He gives me strength in as these moments that I will face with no escape.

  2. Several years ago I wrote a song about the death of death; I thought I’d share the lyrics here:

    Soulflight

    The death of death now lingers
    at the dawn of life reborn
    I walk these crags and cliffs at last
    through the valley and the storm
    This life ebbs while numbness fades
    shadows stir in dim of shade
    Let go let go let slip away
    embrace rebirth this dawn of day

    The Dayspring lifts the veil tonight
    my home is finally in sight
    Take flight my soul take flight tonight—tonight
    my soul take flight… tonight

    My soul fly free fly far fly fast
    your body now has breathed its last
    Fly higher now, survey this vast
    freedom from your toil at last
    Don’t mourn too hard my love
    my passing through this veil
    Take comfort from our Holy Dove
    don’t leave his joy grow pale

    The Dayspring lifts the veil tonight
    my home is finally in sight
    Take flight my soul take flight tonight—tonight
    my soul take flight… tonight

    To hear it performed by ‘Blue Lit Souls’ search (for example spotify) it’s on the album ‘The Stairwell Years’
    https://play.spotify.com/search/blue%20lit%20souls%20

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