I HATE Death

It seems like an obvious thing to say, but it needs to be said. Through the years, I have lost grandparents, friends, and my dad. In the past two weeks, the loss has continued. A dear, sweet, kind man from the Church in Alaska where I served, passed away from a heart attack. Then a few days ago, Ravi Zacharias, a national speaker who helped to strengthen my faith enormously while I was in college, died of cancer.

All these losses have created moments that took my breath away. Even though death comes as no surprise since we are bound for it, there is still the pain of letting go of those with which we have a connection. I know these reports will not be the last I will receive, and that possibility alone sends me reeling with anxiety if I think about it for too long.

While I stand in stunned silence at the loss of people I know, I also take these times to reflect on the meaning of faith. The single biggest reason I am a follower of Jesus is because of his resurrection. Jesus died, was buried, and then rose to live again on the third day. He is the only person in all recorded history to walk out of the grave under his own power. He defeated death and turned the cemetery into a place of victory. There is no other religious leader who accomplished what he was able to do.

I hate death and the emotional pain of separation that it brings. I love Jesus more. In dark moments like these, his light shines the brightest. In the place that seems hopeless, he brings hope. We grieve loss but cling to the savior who gives us life. I HATE death. Thankfully, I serve a God who hates it too. He hated it so much that he did something about it. Jesus came to bring us resurrection and life. For that, I am eternally grateful.

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