Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Colossians 3:1
I really didn’t know how to react to what I was reading.
With sympathy? - “Oh, how sad! How pathetic!” Or with contempt, even anger? - “How
unutterably stupid! How could anyone even think of such a thing?”
I was reading about those mega-rich people who are planning
– at enormous expense – to have their bodies deep-frozen when they die so they
can be resuscitated at some future date.
The very idea seems grotesque, revolting. Assuming for a
moment that it is actually possible, I try to imagine what it might be like to
die in 2021 and then to wake up again in, say, 2121… Who am I? Where am I? What
is this place that I find myself in? What am I supposed to do? Will I be for
ever dependent on these tubes, these people sticking needles in me?
Anyone who has read Frankenstein will be aware of how
one writer’s imagination pictured some of the horrors that might lie ahead. And
all for what? Presumably, in order one day to die all over again.
Just as the people of Babel set out to build a tower “that
reaches to the heavens” (Genesis 11) – an ambition that is still being pursued
in many of the world’s enormous cities – so there has also been that goal of
defeating death. As if human beings can ever out-god God!
If ever a project exposed the natural human fear of death,
this surely is it. This, I suppose, is where the element of sympathy came into
my thoughts. Has no-one ever told these deluded people that the thing that they
are pursuing, at such great trouble and expense, has in fact already been
achieved? Has no-one ever told them the Easter story?... “The women hurried
away from the tomb, filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly
Jesus met them. ‘Greetings’, he said…” (Matthew 28:8-9).
No laboratories. No scientific techniques. No monstrous
refrigerators or brilliantly concocted chemicals. Nothing but the sheer
almighty power of the God of all creation. A garden – but not, like Eden, with
an angelic armed guard declaring “Strictly no entry” (Genesis 3:24). No, a
garden with a tomb gaping wide open.
Truly a “new creation” has begun, and one which has
no end.
We must make no mistake: without the resurrection there is
no such thing as Christianity; with it, there is hope without end. Just read
again the glowing words of 1 Corinthians 15!
Death is not an easy thing to come to terms with, even to
the person of solid faith in Christ, and it’s not until our eyes open on that
wonderful, final resurrection morning that the trouble and sadness will be
finally gone.
Two poems spring to mind reflecting different attempts to come
to terms with death. The first is Christian, though I would almost say it is slightly
over-optimistic.
Francis of Assisi (1182-1226) wrote these words, which were
later turned into a hymn…
And thou, most kind and gentle death,/ Waiting
to hush our latest breath…/ Thou leadest home the child of God…
It’s true, of course – except for those words “kind and
gentle”. Yes, “kindly” and “gently” may be how death takes some people; but
they are, I suspect, a small minority. Even those who believed most strongly in
Christ’s victory over death still described it as an enemy: “The last
enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Corinthians15:26) – which implies that while
death is defeated in Christ, it is yet to be finally destroyed.
So, what? Well, this reassures us that our shrinking from
death is not a failure of faith, a sign of spiritual shallowness, but a natural
part of our fallen nature. It’s no accident that after the shocking and
premature death of Stephen, the first “Christian” to die (that word, of course,
didn’t yet exist), he was “mourned deeply” by the infant church (Acts 8:2).
Let’s never be ashamed to grieve!
The other poem is by Dylan Thomas, who I assume was an
unbeliever. He witnesses his father approaching death, and pleads with him…
Do not go gentle into that good night,/ Old age
should burn and rave at close of day;/ Rage, rage against the dying of the
light.
It’s a moving and powerful poem. But that sentiment – “burn…
rave… rage” – can never, surely, be the attitude of the believer in Christ.
Mourn, yes; grieve, of course; but not that!
I can’t think of a better way to finish than with perhaps
the Bible’s greatest word on death: here is Paul in Philippians 1:21: “For to
me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain”.
An enemy, yes; distressing, yes; perhaps painful, yes. But,
in spite of all that, a gain. Christ is alive; and we are alive in him.
And, without end, we will be more truly alive than ever we have been in the
past.
Lord God, thank you for the victory over death
that Jesus has won on our behalf. Thank you that, even when my faith is weak,
and the sorrow of death threatens to overwhelm me, I share in that victory, and
so have hope. Amen.
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