I’m confronted with death this morning. What an awful way to start a piece. But it’s early, and I’m at my best in the early morning hours of the day. So, why not? It’s nice to experience a little clarity before the day fogs my mind.
For years (decades, perhaps), someone has tracked former members of the unit with which I’ve been so long associated through a directory of basic contact information (just emails — and if it weren’t for the fact that every member of the unit is generally known by China already, I’d say it could be a gold-mine of information). But I don’t pay any attention to the email listing. Maybe referred to it once or twice in the years I’ve received it. No. I pay attention to the “In Memoriam” section that starts the listing off. I remember when the moderator started including it. It started small – just the ones he and others could remember. Then others recipients chimed in. Now, every time he adds a name, he marks it with double asterisks, so it’s easy to see who’s died within the past month. The list is up to 258 as I write this.
I’ve been associated with this unit for over 40 years, so I know a lot of the people on the list. Many of them are the oldsters that I knew or at least had heard of when I was a young Airman. Some of the names are there because of my own recollections. Cookie comes to mind. Died in a car accident the year after he left Korea in ’85.
Sadly, there are a few names on that list that aren’t oldsters. Young men and women who, as we would say, left this world too soon. People half my age whom I’d known and spoken to personally within days of their deaths. It’s tragic.
We’re confronted by a world filled with tragedy every day. Sometimes it seems we can only make it through as humans by lying to ourselves – by forgetting the brokenness and focusing more than we realize on our personal comforts. Don’t get me wrong – those comforts can be wonderful and true. My grandchildren are a personal example: I love and miss them so much it almost hurts sometimes. And they in turn remind me of the lives that our family has put together. My own children, whom Micha and I held and raised and nurtured, with their own families now – their own children to love and cherish. It’s all so beautiful.
Throw in everything from friendships to bike rides to food that we love. It’s all part of the package that makes this place bearable for all of us.
But there’s that list. There’s that hospital bed in someone’s future. There’s that liar, that deceiver, that cheat. There are thousands of things happening every day just in our own lives let alone the lives of those around us. And we cover it over with happy pictures on Facebook while we worry that the other guy is so much better off because their happy pictures are so much better.
But in the end, it’s a bit of a deception for all of us. We’re going to be on that list someday. It might come quickly and painlessly, but it’s just as likely to come after a long and intense battle with a painful disease. Face it – the death rate is 100%. Ten out of ten of us will die. This is a truth more absolute than just about anything else a person can claim.
But of course, there’s good news. Great news in fact. There’s a solution to the broken world. There’s a hope to which we can look forward, and what I’m writing here is my periodic reminder: There’s a life beyond this – a life that is so much better than even the best we could put up on our social media, and it comes in this simple form:
“Repent and believe the good news.”
Mark 1:15
These are the words of Jesus. They imply a certain way – that we ourselves can know the solution to the problem. That we ourselves have sinned and turned away from God, and that the result of that sin is death. Not just the death that puts your name on an email list, but the eternal death of a spiritual separation from God.
But…
“…because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions…”
Ephesians 2:4-5
This is the invitation. This is the result. Dead, but made alive. And alive for eternity in a peace and wonder beyond our current imaginings. I know that someday my name will be on that email list, but that’s not the list that matters. The grave is not my final destination. I’ll be doing better than fine. Let me know if you’re interested.
Well worth the listening:
What a great message – love this!