I’ve been thinking about three recent deaths.
First, a beloved family member, plagued by ill health, who travelled halfway around the world to try and settle difficult relationships before her passing. Second, a friend of my parents-in-law, whose life was changed as a young man by a serious car accident which killed his girlfriend and stymied a promising career. Third, a long-standing member of our International Group whose infectious good cheer always struck me when I saw him at the Connection or around Soho. Three lives all brought to a close in the last few weeks.
Perhaps the wildest claim Christianity makes is eternal life. Science is, at best, sceptical. The Gospels have no such doubts. Jesus calls Lazarus to come out from the tomb: and thus he calls us not to tarry forever in death, but to live with him whom death cannot hold. Jesus commands death itself: unbind us and let us go.
One thing I’ve been feeling bound by is powerlessness. The temptation in the face of the deaths of those we love is to say is that it’s all pointless, and there’s nothing more of value to be done. But that’s not true. There may be painful conversations in the aftermath: but perhaps they are an opportunity for reconciliation. There may be regret at a life seemingly diminished: but maybe in turn we recognise less showy gifts of fraternity, positivity and hope. There may be anger at a system that lets people die homeless: but we know that their lives have quietly enriched all they met. In the midst of death, the Spirit of Life patiently shows us that there is a more excellent way, and reveals a life beyond the grave.
Death will come to us and those we love. There will be a price to pay in grief for the gift of every life. It will be hard. But hear the good news: death won’t hold us. Like Lazarus, we are all heading for the tomb: but God will not let us dwell there, in this life or the next.
Chris Braganza
