When death snatched my friend away
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. 1 Thessalonians 4:13
Elaine was part of the Tuesday/Thursday Bible study I attended in college. I didn’t know her very well; she only attended the university for a semester, but after she entered the work world, she and another young woman from the group shared a home near their places of work for a short time.
Word started filtering back to me that Elaine and her friend were experiencing a “Euodia and Syntyche” situation. These were the women to whom the apostle Paul referred in his letter to the Philippians: “I urge Euodia and I urge Syntyche to live in harmony in the Lord” (Philippians 4:2). Evidently, Eu and Syn were not getting along, and it appears that their issues were affecting the church. The same thing was happening with Elaine and the other gal.
Although I didn’t know Elaine very well, and the other lady was like Moses to me (she was the one who shared with me in-depth about water baptism and got the ball rolling for my “dunking”), I felt led to do what Paul admonished the Philippians to do for the sparring women: “Indeed, true companion, I ask you also to help these women who have shared my struggle in the cause of the gospel, together with Clement also and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are in the book of life” (Philippians 4:3). Elaine and her roommate lived between my parents’ home in St. Louis and the little town in which I taught my first year after college. On the way back to my small town home following a visit with my parents, I decided to “help these women”.
“Euodia” wasn’t home, but “Syntyche” (Elaine) was. We sat and talked together for an hour or so and prayed that God would bring peace and harmony back into the household. And then I hit the road, clueless to the fact that God had just laid the foundation for one of the most solid friendships of my life.
I moved back to St. Louis after my first year of teaching while Elaine taught middle school math in rural Missouri. But the friendship thrived as we visited one another’s homes at least once a year, and as we grew older, we visited three, four, or five times each year. She was one of those rare people who “got” me; my penchant for analyzing and “solving” world problems and issues in Christianity—aligning the two with an eye to what God was saying and where we might be in relation to the end times—tended to wear on others; they wanted to chat about lighter, more relational things—who was getting married, who was doing this or that, who went to what church. Not Elaine; she and I discussed events and issues in light of the Word hour after hour, solving and re-solving—and praying about—everything that came to mind.
After nearly twenty years of friendship, Elaine was diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer. Again, we prayed together—often—and dug into the Word of God together to retrieve her complete healing from the Author of its pages. Before she went into her first surgery, she wrote the word “Satan” on the soles of her shoes, just to remind him of his position—under her feet.
She battled valiantly for four years—even though initially she was given less than a year to live. Those four years were full for her; she continued teaching for the first three, wore a floppy hat over her bald head wherever she went (wigs were itchy), and lived in joy and expectation of a good outcome.
We discussed her walk of faith and how strong she had grown as a result of her determined stance in the Lord. The thing that amazed me about Elaine was that her faith was not a denial of reality, nor was it a knee-jerk reaction to a fear of dying. She was walking through both the cancer and her faith hand in hand with Jesus, drawing near to Him.
One day she shared this profound perspective with me. Unafraid of death, but desiring to live (she was in her forties), she said, “Dorothy, death is not failure or defeat. I see death as the safety net under this tightrope I am walking by faith. If for some reason I don’t make it to the end, I’ll fall into the loving arms of Jesus.”
She refused to fear, whether cancer, chemo, life, death, or failure. She walked by faith, and in October, 1999, she stepped out of her body into eternity—by faith.
I lost a key person in my life when she went to Heaven—a rare friend who “got” me and loved me even when I was unlovable. And I mourned. I needed to. A place in my heart was instantly vacant; my friend who enjoyed and accepted me was no longer available.
But I knew where she was; I knew that she now lived in the presence of the Lord whom she so intensely loved, respected, and enjoyed.
Paul wrote, “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Some have interpreted this verse to mean that we should not mourn the passing of our loved ones. I respectfully and vigorously disagree with that teaching. We grieve; but we do not grieve as the rest who have no hope.
When your friend is snatched away from you, it’s agonizing. It’s painful and you need to mourn the one who meant so much to you. Death is a part of life; so is mourning. Ecclesiastes 3:1 and 4 declares, “There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance.” Psalm 116:15 assures us, “Precious in the sight of the LORD Is the death of His godly ones.” God certainly understands our need to grieve; He Himself is touched by the preciousness of the saint who passes from earth to Heaven, and He does not take their death lightly. Neither should we.
We have freedom in Christ to grieve the departure of our loved one from our lives. But our grief is not the grief of those who are without Christ and devoid of hope, for we know that our friend is having the time of her life as she joyfully embraces the King of kings and rejoices in her new, eternal home.
After Elaine passed, I had uneasy questions. This is normal when a faithful believer dies, especially when they are way too young and are standing in faith. In it all, however, God comforted me and gave me peace about all of the whys and what ifs. I would like to share with you how He did it.
He gave me Psalm 131. Its simple message quieted and comforted my mind.
“O LORD, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
O Israel, hope in the LORD
From this time forth and forever.”
The death of a loved one is a difficult thing to grasp, even for the most fervent Christian. On the other hand, I am convinced that every one of our believing loved ones now in Heaven are 100% clear as to the “whys and what ifs” of their death, and I firmly believe that each one of them is A-OK with it. They likely don’t give it a second thought as they live out the adventure in that world—an adventure far greater than anything we could ever experience here.
Because of the heavy and ponderous questions and my inability to comprehend what is private between God and someone else, I have learned to be like that weaned child resting against his mother. Some things are just too difficult for me, and I have given myself permission to be OK with that. My friend is in Heaven, embracing the Lord; I am on earth resting against His heart. Anyway you look at it, that’s a good place to be.
May the God of all comfort surround you with His peace at the time of your loss.
Dorothy
Read MoreFear of death conquered
Therefore, since the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise also partook of the same, that through death He might render powerless him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and might free those who through fear of death were subject to slavery all their lives. Hebrews 2:14-15
Death. It’s an uncomfortable topic for most of us, and for many, it stirs unspeakable fear. For generations before Christ, death was an unpredictable tyrant lurking menacingly in the background of life, only to pounce, steal, kill, and destroy when least expected.
Folks have spoken of the “great unknown” of death; speculations abound concerning the experience awaiting the soul who enters through its gates. And yet the shadowy, mystical quality of death remains a fearful, morbid mystery to a large portion of mankind.
Many believers in our hour believe that we are in the generation that will be caught up to meet the Lord in the air, thereby allowing a whole host of souls to evade death altogether (see 1 Thessalonians 4:15-17). Nevertheless, you and I have flesh and blood bodies which are naturally fragile and will wear out over time. It is what it is.
For a large portion of history, Satan was captain over death; his fingerprints can still be found on the deaths of many as his stealing, killing, and destroying invades lives and families around the globe. But he didn’t count on one thing: that he would be rendered powerless through the death of the One he despised more than all other men. The devil never imagined that his murderous strategy against the Son of God would in reality strip him of the power to enslave men and women washed in the very blood he had worked so hard to spill. No longer would he be able to control or constrain those whose faith rested firmly in the One he had crucified. For them, the fear of death would cease as they entrusted their souls to the One who died for them.
Because the race of man lived out their lives in fragile flesh and blood, Jesus took on a vulnerable human body as well and entered the world to save men and women from its cruel taskmaster, the devil. While the Lord walked the earth, He faced every temptation and vulnerability that weighs upon the rest of us, yet He never sinned—not even once. And at the right time, He offered Himself as a spotless sacrifice, dying on the cross in our place, bearing our punishment. In this great, horrible, awesome act, Jesus not only opened the way for you and me to receive eternal life through faith in Him, but He also rendered the tyrant of death—the devil—absolutely powerless over all of us who put our trust in Christ.
Yes, believers die; nonetheless, even in death they overwhelmingly triumph. They simply step out of this life into eternal life; their last breath here is quickly followed by their first breath in the presence of God. For the woman or man who has walked with Jesus, death is but a transition; she steps out of her body in the same manner that she stepped out of her bathrobe or PJs every morning to dress for the day; he launches out of his body the same way he kicked off his dirty work clothes after a hard day’s work. He doesn’t mourn his sweaty pile of denim and tees; she doesn’t weep over her abandoned robe hanging in the closet; in the same way, the discarded body left behind is nothing to the child of God but a distant memory when they enter eternal life in the presence of the very One they lived to worship, serve, and adore.
Certainly death has a sting—but that sting is sin. And because of Jesus’ death—the death on the cross—your sins have been washed away. Therefore, you can count on it—for you, death will have no sting; for you, death will be swallowed up in victory. Your God, who has loved you with an everlasting love, will continue to be your God, never failing, never forsaking you, every day of your life. And when you step out of your body on that last day of this life, He will be right there with you, loving and guarding you all the way through.
And then…the real adventure begins!
Dorothy
But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Corinthians 15:54-57
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