Looking at Death Differently

I have actually been talking about death for months. I started to make the observation quite awhile ago to friends and family that I had never seen a dead body. A mixture of circumstances and culture had created this reality where at age 35, I had never seen a dead person before. I know lots of people who have died. I have been to lots of memorial services (but few funerals). There has never been an open casket. I was unfamiliar with death. Until April 14^th.

Being present for Grandma’s last breath and the fading of her pulse made death personal. It put a face to death. As Easter approached the following Sunday, I realized the hope of the resurrection felt sweeter after seeing the loss that comes with death firsthand.

On Wednesday night, my story-telling small group learned the crucifixion story in Luke 23. I found images of my Grandma’s last breath coming to mind as I read that Jesus breathed His last. I have always used my imagination to picture what that scene must have been like. However, this time the pictures in my head were rooted in my experience on April 14th. 

Jesus says, “Father, I entrust my spirit into your hands!” in Luke 23:46. Jesus gives up His spirit to His Father who knows and loves Him. In that moment, Jesus breathes His last. My Grandma entrusted her spirit to the Father who knows and loves her. I was present for that moment. As I reflected on the story with my small group, I realized my April 14^th experience caused me to look at death differently.

There is such a sense of control in Jesus’ death story. His self-controlled response to those mocking Him as He hung on the cross speaks to this. His deliberate extension of grace to the criminal hanging with him on the cross shows He died the way He lived. In the midst of His pain and suffering, Jesus moves toward people with compassion and forgiveness. What a remarkable way to die! Reflective of the way He lived.

I can’t look at death the same anymore. I realized that on Wednesday night. It is now colored by being present for Grandma’s death. This has caused me to approach the crucifixion story differently. It feels more personal. It feels more costly. It feels more miraculous. I can’t help, but see death differently now.