Wednesday, July 18, 2018

THOUGHTS ON DEATH AND DYING

I’ve been thinking a lot about my own mortality lately. My mom is 100 years old, my brother just turned 74 and is in poor health, and I will turn 65 next month. I spent the last two weeks communing with trees that were alive long before I was born and will live on long after I’ve died.  Our lives are incredibly short in the great scheme of things

I must admit that I fear dying. Dying can be messy, prolonged, and painful. If I could choose a way to die I’d choose to die lying on my couch watching sci-fi on TV with the remote in my hand and with my cat sleeping on my chest.  Wishful thinking on my part.

But being afraid of dying does not mean being afraid of death. This is an important distinction.  Dying is a physical process, a transition from one state of matter to another. To me, death is a spiritual transition from one state of being to another. For most of my adult life I’ve feared death because I believed I was going to have to stand alone before God and account for my life. I’m not overly concerned with accounting for the things I’ve done throughout my life. Over the years I’ve tried to apologize to those I’ve wronged and make amends by living a better life. My greatest fear has been having to explain the many things I should have done but didn’t.

For not standing up to a coworker who drove a waitress to tears with his abuse at the Holiday Inn in Strongsville OH on disco night in September of 1980.

For not speaking out when family members said things like “I’m not racist but….”

For not speaking out when peers made crude jokes about women, minorities, and homosexuals.

For caring more about what people thought of me than defending those in need.

I feared death because I knew I would have to explain my cowardice in the face of societal pressure to remain silent.

But one day that all changed. During a small group meeting a few years back the fear of death entered into the discussion somehow. After I had expressed my feelings, my friend and mentor, Stacy Ikard, looked at me with a puzzled look on her face and said something I’ll never forget. She said:

“But you won’t be alone. Jesus will be with you”.

And suddenly it all snapped into place. For the first time I understood. I am not alone. Jesus walks beside me through life. He will sit with me as I die, and he will stand with me in death. I will not have to stand alone in judgement before God. Jesus will stand with me. He will speak for me and intercede on my behalf.

So while I still fear dying, I no longer fear death. When that day comes, as it must, I will not be alone.

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