Behind my house sits a small shed with an old wooden privacy fence about three feet beyond it. Over time, vines had entirely overtaken the space between them.

A few weeks ago, I decided to reclaim that area. With fall approaching, it seemed like the perfect time to free some stored items and restore order to the chaos.

I spotted wasp nests along the shed’s back wall, sprayed them, and waited before starting work. I was tearing out vines when I turned to clear the fence as well. Without warning, a swarm erupted from a metal gate stored there. I only noticed them when the stinging began.

They hit me at least three times, and the one on my forehead seemed particularly aggressive, stinging repeatedly based on the lasting welt. Over the following days, I endured a massive headache, swelling around both eyes, and pain, along with embarrassment.

This experience reminded me of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, where he writes about resurrection and Christ’s return. He describes how death will be “swallowed up in victory” and quotes the prophet Hosea: “Where, O death, is your sting?”

Death brings momentary stinging pain, much like a wasp’s attack. It hurts both physically and emotionally, but there’s hope. One day, death’s stinger will be removed forever.

I hate wasps. I hate death even more. But I’m grateful that someday, both stings will be gone.