death

This isn't morbid, I promise. Death for me has always been a very bitter and terrifying thing. The one thing that truly reminds me of my humanity- of my non-permanence- of my lack of all-knowingness that only God possesses, is death. If there is one thing that reminds me that I am not God, it's death. And in my experience, it's never a nice feeling to realize that you're not the one in control of your life, like you believed. It's easy to believe we are gods. We believe it almost without noticing, or at least I do. I've always had a horribly negative connotation with death (like I suppose almost everyone does). Each relative that has died in the past has jarred and shaken me. The closer death has come to me, the more nervous and anxious I have become about it. Because, no one likes to feel out of control- no one who believes they are their own god rejoices in realizing that they are human like everyone else- human in every possible way and no better or worse than any other human that has ever lived, because they were just as human as you are. Forced humility feels a little bit like claustrophobia.

But probably about this time last week, my grandmother passed away unexpectedly. And she was a woman of great strength, patience, goodness, faithfulness, and hope. She worked hard all her life, and was not one to complain or be ungrateful even when things were difficult or less than ideal. She had always won over my respect for her by the way she approached life so openly- so ready to accept whatever circumstances came her way. I watched her from afar as she lived a life dedicated to the Lord and to serving other people, and treating them with warmth and good humor and companionship. She was a beautiful woman of faith, who I know spent every minute of her life loving Jesus from a deep and unshakable place. I don't doubt that by the time she died, she had been ready for decades to be with Him. She loved Him more than anything. She wasn't afraid of death because she loved Him, trusted Him, had faith in Him to do what He has promised. Her funeral was the first one I have attended in which I felt peace. Mixed with the sadness of not being able to talk to her again was an overwhelming sense of peace- because she is finally with Jesus- she is finally Home, a place she had longed for all her life. And I am so proud to say that I am her granddaughter. And because of her beautiful life and beautiful love for her Creator, I am much less afraid of death.

Death is vital. Death makes the whole equation work. Death is necessary and mandatory for God to exist and for God to love us. Without death, there could be no eternity. Death means there was a punishment given, and therefore a mistake made. Death is the penalty for my misconduct, for my pride in willing to dethrone God. But it also means that Someone cared enough that I made a mistake- cared enough to do something about the irreversible sin I've committed- cared enough to become one of us in the form of a helpless baby to shortly after conquer death altogether for those who claim Him as their Savior. All through my life, from the second I was born, He has been reaching for me- hoping that instead of hoarding the life I have been given, I would surrender back to Him the breath that He has lent me, out of love and devotion and appreciation and gratitude. He cares. He won't let me go no matter what I do. And I know that though my body must return to dust because it was created from dust, my soul will return to God because it was created from Him, in His likeness- in love, for love, because of love. It started with love, and it will end with love.

And I hope that when the last page is turned and the book of my life here is closed, I will have made my grandmother proud. I hope that I will be as fearless as she was about death. And I hope that I will have loved Jesus even half as much as she did. I know that she is safe, and therefore not permanently gone. She is  truly Home, experiencing things that we can't know or understand now. I don't have any choice but to trust that she is with Him- and that one day I will be too.