Thank you, Robin Hood

Everyone must die once… Hebrews 9:27 (Good News Bible)

I had a very welcome letter the other day from Robin Hood. (In case you don’t know, Robin Hood is the name of the company that runs the buses in Nottingham, where we live; forget that chap with the bows and arrows.) They had sent me my right to continuing “free concessionary travel” – otherwise known as my new bus pass. There was my name, my mugshot – and then the information: Expiry date:13 June 2027.

Ah. When I read that part I couldn’t help muttering under my breath “that’s assuming I don’t ‘expire’ first!”. On the 13 June 2027 – assuming I make it that far – I’ll be eighty. And we mustn’t take anything for granted, must we?

All of us know from early years that (unless we belong to the last generation before Christ’s return) we are going to die. We live with that knowledge and, for most of our lives, probably just try to push it to the back of our minds. And then, as when I opened that letter, and courtesy of Robin Hood, we get a sharp reminder…

Well, we had a bit of a laugh, my wife and I. And why not? At the heart of the Christian faith lies the truth of Christ crucified and risen from the dead. Jesus really died, and really rose again.

The Bible contains many passages which are non-literal – they are truths presented in metaphors or other figures of speech. But this isn’t one of them. The four Gospel-writers, all telling the same factual story, meant that story to be taken as sober history. This actually happened! This man Jesus overcame death! And the promise is that his victory is given to anyone who puts their trust in him. Which means, among other things: just as he rose, so will we.

Paul spells it out as clearly as you could want: “For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Romans 6:5). (Note that “if”, of course.)

You might say “Well, it’s all very well for a couple in their retirement to treat death light-heartedly, but what about those who ‘go before their time’?”, and you’d be perfectly entitled to do so, with a frown on your face.

I don’t mean to make light of it – it’s just the way it was when that letter arrived. Of course, we all shrink from death. And the same Bible that triumphantly declares the miracle of the resurrection also calls death “the last enemy” – the last enemy, it’s true: but still an enemy.

God has treated my wife and me (she’s a few years behind me, by the way) with great – and, of course, completely undeserved – gentleness. We enjoy retirement: reasonably comfortably off; reasonable health (though experiencing ever greater creakiness); children grown up and launched upon the world; grandchildren who bring us great joy.

And we are very well aware that it just isn’t like that for everyone, Christian or not. Our hearts sink every time we hear of someone twenty, thirty or forty years younger than us being taken, or even just threatened, by death. No; it’s no joking matter.

I have known Christians who refuse to recognise the sheer sadness of “early” deaths. Instead of looking it fair and square in the face they rejoice in a way that comes across as forced and artificial. I always want to point them to Acts 7, the story of the stoning of Stephen, the first Jesus-follower (there were no “Christians” at that time) to die after Pentecost.

Of course, we don’t know anything about Stephen’s age: he might have been well on in years. But somehow the impression we get is of a vigorous man still in the prime of life. Did he have a wife, children? Very likely.

Whatever, I am always grateful for what Luke tells us in Acts 8:2: “Godly men buried Stephen and mourned deeply for him”. I don’t think those godly men would have had the slightest doubt that Stephen had gone to share in Christ’s resurrection. But that didn’t stop them from giving vent to great grief.

Sadness and sorrow are part of our lot in life. Job 5:7 tells us that “man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upwards”, where that image of sparks flying off the fire, or perhaps off the anvil, graphically conveys the inevitability of trouble, pain and tears.

But then at the end of the Bible John has his extraordinary vision of what is to come: “God will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…” (Revelation 21:4). The tears are real, and they may be bitter; but God has a tissue big enough for them all.

Thanks be to God for his lordship over death!

Dear Father, Thank you that because of Jesus we can look death fairly and squarely in the face. May that great truth both bring us comfort, and also prompt us to live to the full all the days you give us on this earth. Amen.