by Marc Hays
I am nearly forty years old and have yet to experience the death of “someone close to me.” My parents both live. My wife, my siblings, my children all remain. My grandparents have all passed, but for one reason or another they were distant. Age, geography, or Alzheimer’s can each create their own kind of distance. A close friend of mine from high school died a few years ago, but his death was nearly twenty years removed from our life together. I cried at his funeral for those who remained. My tears were not for my loss.
Today, we will bury my wife’s grandmother. Jamie’s experience with her “Mema” was the polar opposite of mine. Mema was only 48 when Jamie was born, so they had many years and spent much time together. We lived in Virginia for a four-year period and, until that time, Mema never lived more than 15 miles away from Jamie. The family gathered at least a half dozen times per year for birthdays and holidays and, up until a few months ago, Mema kept an incredible amount of clarity in her thinking. Neither age nor geography nor mental illness removed Mema from Jamie’s life. Only death did, and it did so on the same calendar day that we remember Jamie’s arrival. Today at the funeral, Jamie and her family will weep for their loss, something I’m not sure that I’ve ever done.
Jesus wept. He wept at the tomb of his friend, Lazarus. “When Jesus therefore saw (Mary) weeping and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in his spirit, and was troubled.” (John 11:32) He could have avoided it. He knew early enough to have come and healed Lazarus. After all, he had healed people without being present in the room so what would have stopped him from healing someone from miles away? Mary and Martha lamented, “If you’d have come, he wouldn’t have died.” But Jesus wanted to do more than give them their brother back. He wanted them to see the glory of God. (John 11:40) He wanted them to see that his groaning was not simply for himself. Not only for his loss.
Death is the nemesis of life. Archenemies they are, and there is no reconciling them. Never any accord. Never any peace. One must win and the other die. Jesus is life. He not only created life or gives life, although he did do those things; He is life. If he is life, then he and death can never be reconciled. Life is the antithesis of death. One must conquer and the other must be conquered. Jesus must be the death of death.
Adam ate from the tree that had been kept from him, and he died. Jesus drank from the cup that had been given to him, and he died. Adam’s death, as a consequence of his disobedience, plunged him and his bride headlong into death; Jesus’ death, as a result of his obedience, conquered death and gave life to his bride in him.
By his death and resurrection, Jesus trampled down death. In his life, he showed his power over the effects of death by resuscitating the victims of death. He could restore life in those who had succumbed to death. By his own resurrection, which could only follow his own death, Jesus showed that it is impossible for him to actually succumb. His “laying down of his life” is just as active as his “taking it back up again.” By “giving up the ghost” he never gave up any ground. Not one square inch.
Today, we will lay Mema to rest. But the day is coming when she shall be raised incorruptible. The trumpet shall sound. The Earth will give up her dead in the resurrection. Our Lord Jesus Christ, the first-fruits of them that slept, shall return for those who sleep; he shall return for those who weep.<>
