As a hospice chaplain, part of my job is to face death with patients and their families. I’ve been at the bedside of those who are crossing over and prayed with them as they take their last breath. As I’ve told co-workers, this calling involves a daily existential crisis that many jobs don’t have. When some of us are confronted with death it’s often brief, fleeting, and forgotten (this is certainly not the case for everyone). But this new virus circling the globe has invited the Grim Reaper into our homes. We are startled with the idea that we, or someone we love, could die.
COVID-19 is unflinching in its progression and is indiscriminate in its targets. In the West, this existential confrontation with death has caught many of us on the back foot. We don’t seem to have the spiritual energy to deal with it. Fear has swept over many of us. What do we do?
I read once that when you grapple with your own death, (no matter when that is) you then learn how to live. Scripture tells us in Psalms 89:48, “Who can live and not see death?” For me, this is an ongoing process and I’ve not fully eradicated my fears surrounding my demise, and I suspect I never will. But in the words of the theologian John Wayne, “Fear is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway.” So, what does it look like to saddle up? One way is to talk about your shared fear of death. As Fred Rogers states, “Anything mentionable is manageable.” Avoiding our thoughts and feelings about death only causes more anxiety, fear, and distress.
Confronting death will narrow your focus as it has mine. I still do many of the same things I did as a pastor, family member, colleague, friend, and husband. But my choices are shaped by the brevity of life. Death is coming for you, too. You can either learn to live with it or medicate the problem with distractions or pleasure. We are finite, and being reminded of that isn’t a bad thing. As Solomon in all his wisdom states, “It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart” (Ecclesiastes 7:2).
As a hospice chaplain, I’m reminded that we should be living for more than the next applause, family gathering, life event, or job promotion. However, more than that, the current circumstances have helped me see that all of these things, (and much more) are infused with meaning. Washing dishes, walking with my wife, eating dinner, are all meaningful in God’s kingdom. By contemplating my demise, I can rightfully enjoy the good. It’s also helped me confront my grandiosity. I love me. It’s that simple. But as we face death, we begin to ask two very important questions, ‘Who am I?’ and ‘What am I becoming?’ If we stop long enough, we might not like ourselves. Reminders of death fling us back to reality. What we do, most likely, will be lost, but who we are remains. Death helps us ask these questions and prompts us to answer them.
I’m not at all excited about COVID-19, even when refocusing on what’s important. It’s a horrible virus that calls the Christian community to lament. Personally, I’m not immune to death’s devastation. Two months ago, I buried my brother. I’m 30 years old. It was out of season and not his time. I hate death and I fear its inevitability. But if I’m ever to live rightly, cultivate virtue, love my neighbor, and love God with all my heart, mind, and strength, I must come to grips with my death. I don’t need a positive re-frame, but to see it as part of the curse that it is. In the garden, Jesus prayed that he might be removed from the trial of an agonizing death. I certainly don’t need to make light or pretend it isn’t the final enemy. I’d say, let’s not waste our exposure to death.
Death reminds us there is more to life. It certainly stings, but in Christ, it doesn’t have the final word. Jesus’s resurrection shows us that in Christ, our resurrection will be as glorious as it is bodily. Heaven will come down to earth and his Kingdom will one day be visible. Justice and mercy will kiss and death shall be no more.
Hopefully and prayerfully, this virus will fade and we’ll get on with something closer to ‘normal’ life. But people will still die; tragically, accidentally, by genocide, old age, and horrible diseases. Even when it doesn’t make the news, people still die. And the universal truth is that one day, you’ll die too. Our world is fundamentally not right, and this virus reminds us of that. Therefore, don’t waste your fear.
And with all the saints we continue to pray, “Even so Lord Jesus, come quickly.”
Published in the Edmond Sun: Sunday Sermon 4/11/20