“He will wipe every tear out of their eyes, and death will be no more” (Rev. 21:4).
Dear Jesus, thank you for guaranteeing the Day of no more dying and death of anyone, anything, anywhere—grandparents or grandkids, a favorite tree or a beloved pet, old friendships or dreams that seemed too good not to happen. Though you have already removed death’s “sting” (1Cor.15:55-56), it still slaps us in the face, buckles our knees, and rocks our sensibilities… and that’s the way it should feel.
Thank you for validating our shock, encouraging our grief, and giving us tears. As a pastor, I’ve experienced more deaths and funerals than seminary prepared me for. As a human being, yesterday I felt the life leave the weary body of our 14-year-old Yorkie, Zuzu. It hurts more than I anticipated. Standing before your friend Lazarus’ grave, you revealed your anguish before you demonstrated your power. Thank you for that gift.
Death creates an instant void that is both numbing and disorienting. It’s not the way things are supposed to be, and (hallelujah) it’s not the way things will be forever. By your death and resurrection, you made clear that death isn’t sovereign, you are. Sin didn’t triumph, you did. Death doesn’t get the last word, you do. Jesus, you are the grace giver and grave robber. The keys of death are in your hands—not in the hands of evil, accidents, or “natural causes.”
With the same hands you grabbed nails that pretended to hold you, you hold us. And on the perfectly timed, deeply longed for Day, you will wipe every tear out of our eyes and all pain from our hearts. Questions remain, but we don’t question your goodness and faithfulness. Our mourning is for this brief, painful moment; but eternal joy will come one Morning soon. Thank you, and So Very Amen.