Death part 1: "Fear of Death"

One of my ministers (Scott Green) delivered yet another powerful sermon this past Sunday(11/15/2009). He spoke about the word “goal,” which only appears five times in the Bible. His final point addressed “the goal of faith” in 1 Peter 1:9, which is to dodge death and receive eternal life. I wanted to devote several blog entries to exploring the topic of death. I will attempt to hold to the following outline: 1) the Fear of Death, 2) Death as a Friend, and 3) Choices in Death.

My experience of death has generally not been filled with fear. Various church members died when I was a kid, but at that time as a Seventh-Day Adventist, I already knew that they would remain in the grave and then be resurrected once Jesus came back. Since the only people I knew were SDA’s, death occurred to me as an extra-long nap. However, I did have great fear of leaving the SDA denomination because then the magic formula would no longer work. As a child, I pondered how our neighbors could possibly live their lives without the absolute security that they would receive eternal life when they died.

A large number of my relatives passed away in my teens and twenties (1990-96) and my parents were very positive role models in how to face each situation without being in denial. The first was my 99-year-old Grandma Leiske who had literally experienced the horse and buggy days. Sadly, the second was her daughter, my great Auntie Myrna, who died in her 60’s having enjoyed her multiple grandchildren for only a few short years. The third was my second cousin Michael Wiggins, who was cut down at the age of 24, tragically leaving a grieving wife and his two parents who happened to teach at the same college that I attended. Fourth was my Aunt Carol, who contracted multiple myeloma in her early 50’s and thankfully made good use of the several years she had to bond with us and then say goodbye. Right before I graduated in 1997, my maternal grandmother died of liver disease caused by longstanding alcoholism. I viewed this as a mixed blessing for my mom, who fought to love an alcoholic woman who did not choose to love her back. After a five-year respite, my paternal grandmother died at 88, and my paternal grandfather a couple of years later at 93.

A final incident worth mentioning was the death of David Beale at age 18 or 19 the week before school started my sophomore year in college. He was an incoming freshman who had already become good friends with my roommate (and now brother-in-law) Brandon Sanders, who was also starting college that year. The entire campus was sobered by this tragic incident that occurred exactly as the school year started, but I had a unique vantage point from knowing Brandon and encountering his grief, sadness, and questions. Looking back, I’ve wondered if this was a spiritual watershed moment. That year Brandon and I had many talks about God and both embarked on a deep search for spiritual understanding.

An individual’s teens and twenties are often very formative for their belief system and personal growth, and mine was no exception. I struggled mightily to understand the meaning of life and experienced some very high highs and some low lows. In that period of life, I was unattached to a very large degree and I recall visiting a very large waterfall in eastern Washington. I started with fascination at the rushing water that fell hundreds of feet and felt like I just wanted to get swept away with it and be one with it. There was no fear of death for me at that moment because it was irrelevant to the feeling. Such bravado! But to what end? I do not think it is coincidental that we send our 18 to 25-year-olds to fight our wars.

Depression affected me rather strongly in 1999-2000. God used it to help me develop humility and see my need for him. But I’ll never forget counting the cost with the brothers. Scott Green asked me, “If you were to die today, where would you go?” At that moment, I felt very depressed and didn’t really care where I went—I just knew that I wanted to live for God. Looking back, my answer showed that I was in denial of my mortality. It was along the lines of, “It’s really up to God, I’m in his hands. If he sends me to hell, then I accept that.” That was a huge step for me because having grown up going to church, I had never honestly considered being truly “lost” and separated from God. At the same time, you can see the shreds of denial to which I still clung. After getting baptized in order to be saved and forgiven from my sins, I’ve gotten more in touch with how I do deserve to be separated from God. It is indeed a scary thought, but it keeps things real.

On a daily basis, I do not emotionally fear death—I’m focused on living a life for God! But at a survival level, I wonder how I would react if my life were truly endangered. I nearly drowned when I was five years old. When I took swimming lessons at 10 years old, I could not stand to do the “survival float” because it felt so claustrophobic. My near-drowning clearly made a deep impact on me. There have been many instances since then where I could have died: flipping my VW Rabbit on an icy road at age 16, getting hit by a car while riding a bike with poor brakes at the UW at age 24, and even an SUV narrowly missing me the other morning as I crossed the street at 6:15 am in the rain wearing a black coat.

My greatest fear in death right now centers around what would happen to my wife and kids, who would experience the rest of their lives without a husband and father. They are certainly my greatest vulnerability, the softest part of me. I think especially of my daughters—who would play that irreplaceable safe male role in their lives to give them confidence, security, and love? They each have the potential to become an incredible individual, but what sorts of choices would they make without a dad? I fear that they will turn to men in their teenage years for their security instead of to God. I fear that without a spiritual male role model, they will miss out on fully understanding God, who has both fatherly and motherly characteristics.

It is in this context of my real fears surrounding death that I share Heb 2:14-15. “Since the children have flesh and blood, he [Jesus] too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.” I have to be careful that my life is not lived in slavery to my fear of death. Jesus came in real flesh and blood, sharing not only our mortality but also our fears that arise out of our vulnerabilities. By facing his fears and dying on the cross, Jesus dealt a death-blow to Satan. It was a paradoxical and unprecedented act. Jesus showed us how to live life full tilt, even in the face of death (see Luke 13:31-35).

American society has taken the fear of death to entirely new levels with Halloween, Hollywood’s scary movies, and the like. Ironically, our society has embraced and glorified death and the fears it engenders. However, if each of us gets real with what we really want, I think it lines up pretty closely with the following scriptures.

“Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. The lake of fire is the second death” (Rev 20:14). The Bible describes that death itself will be consumed by the lake of fire and for eternity forward, it will no longer exist. What a radical concept to break the life/death duality!

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Rev 21:4). Isn’t this what we all want? God knows us so well. The point that jumped out at me today was the phrase “every tear,” which implies that God knows the reason and source for every pain and tear we have cried. He knows, he understands, and he can’t wait to comfort us and make it all better.