For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another (Job 19.25-27).
Like you, I have experienced the loss of someone I loved. My heart hurt and I did not know what to do about it. On the one hand I wanted the pain to go away and on the other hand, I wanted the pain to remain. I did not want to lose or lessen my memories of someone I loved – and do love still. I recall her courage in the face of adversity, her kindness, loving encouragement and hopefulness. As I sometimes think about her now, I know she has lost none of these qualities. Indeed, in the presence of Christ her every good gift is perfected. There is so much more to life than that which meets the eye. So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal (2 Corinthians 4.16-18). There comes to all of us a point when we put off our earthly body and enter the presence of Christ as we await the resurrection and our heavenly body. Yet, we do not lose our identity; rather we become what God intended us to be in Christ. Your life has been marked by someone you love and that is a legacy you may carry with you in the days that lie ahead.
The book of Job may seem like an odd place to turn for solace when confronted with heartache, but there are few others who have suffered like Job in the crucible of life. Despite his trials, he maintained an unshakable confidence in God’s faithfulness. That life is full of trouble. Job knew this all too well. He lost all his material possessions; he experienced the catastrophic heart-wrenching pain of his children’s deaths. If this were not enough, his closest “friends” declared him to be a sinner who was getting what he deserved. Still, he declares: Though he slay me, I will hope in him; yet I will argue my ways to his face (Job 13.15). If God’s mercy was not to be experienced in this life, he believed he would experience it after he shed the skin of his mortal life: For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another (Job 19.25-27).
Perhaps some may think it strange, but I often think about my mortality, and when a friend departs this world the thoughts of my own departure override all other thoughts. The Bible does not give us a full description of the new heavens and a new earth; rather, the imagery suggests that what lies ahead is so wonderful that everything I’ve known up to this point pales in comparison to it. If this is true, then I suppose it is reasonable to be hopeful about what lies ahead. How we depart this life may vary from person to person but the country to which we journey is not a place to be feared.
Some time ago I was rereading the English pundit Malcolm Muggeridge’s book “Jesus Rediscovered.” He made the following observations based on the Corinthians text quoted above.
“For myself, as I approach my end, I find Jesus' outrageous claim ever more captivating and meaningful. Quite often, waking up in the night as the old do, I feel myself to be half out of my body, hovering between life and death, with eternity rising in the distance.”
“I see my ancient carcass, prone between the sheets, stained and worn like a scrap of paper dropped in the gutter and, hovering over it, myself, like a butterfly released from its chrysalis stage and ready to fly away. Are caterpillars told of their impending resurrection? How in dying they will be transformed from poor earth crawlers into creatures of the air, with exquisitely painted wings? If told, do they believe it? I imagine the wise old caterpillars shaking their heads -- no, it can't be; it's a fantasy.”
“In the limbo between living and dying, as the night clocks tick remorselessly on, and the black sky implacably shows not one single streak or scratch of gray, I hear those words: I am the resurrection, and the life, and feel myself to be carried along on a great tide of joy and peace.”
The Bible is replete with assurances about God’s provision for his children, not because they have adhered to a rigid moral standard (though being good is a good thing and it is what Christians delight in doing) but because they believe and trust in their heavenly Father. At the conclusion of Paul’s argument for the justification by faith alone in the first eight chapters of Romans, he makes this remarkable statement: What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised— who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8.31-39).
With the death of one we love we feel real grief; but we do not mourn without hope. The risen Christ has the final word.
The book of Job may seem like an odd place to turn for solace when confronted with heartache, but there are few others who have suffered like Job in the crucible of life. Despite his trials, he maintained an unshakable confidence in God’s faithfulness. That life is full of trouble. Job knew this all too well. He lost all his material possessions; he experienced the catastrophic heart-wrenching pain of his children’s deaths. If this were not enough, his closest “friends” declared him to be a sinner who was getting what he deserved. Still, he declares: Though he slay me, I will hope in him; yet I will argue my ways to his face (Job 13.15). If God’s mercy was not to be experienced in this life, he believed he would experience it after he shed the skin of his mortal life: For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another (Job 19.25-27).
Perhaps some may think it strange, but I often think about my mortality, and when a friend departs this world the thoughts of my own departure override all other thoughts. The Bible does not give us a full description of the new heavens and a new earth; rather, the imagery suggests that what lies ahead is so wonderful that everything I’ve known up to this point pales in comparison to it. If this is true, then I suppose it is reasonable to be hopeful about what lies ahead. How we depart this life may vary from person to person but the country to which we journey is not a place to be feared.
Some time ago I was rereading the English pundit Malcolm Muggeridge’s book “Jesus Rediscovered.” He made the following observations based on the Corinthians text quoted above.
“For myself, as I approach my end, I find Jesus' outrageous claim ever more captivating and meaningful. Quite often, waking up in the night as the old do, I feel myself to be half out of my body, hovering between life and death, with eternity rising in the distance.”
“I see my ancient carcass, prone between the sheets, stained and worn like a scrap of paper dropped in the gutter and, hovering over it, myself, like a butterfly released from its chrysalis stage and ready to fly away. Are caterpillars told of their impending resurrection? How in dying they will be transformed from poor earth crawlers into creatures of the air, with exquisitely painted wings? If told, do they believe it? I imagine the wise old caterpillars shaking their heads -- no, it can't be; it's a fantasy.”
“In the limbo between living and dying, as the night clocks tick remorselessly on, and the black sky implacably shows not one single streak or scratch of gray, I hear those words: I am the resurrection, and the life, and feel myself to be carried along on a great tide of joy and peace.”
The Bible is replete with assurances about God’s provision for his children, not because they have adhered to a rigid moral standard (though being good is a good thing and it is what Christians delight in doing) but because they believe and trust in their heavenly Father. At the conclusion of Paul’s argument for the justification by faith alone in the first eight chapters of Romans, he makes this remarkable statement: What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised— who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8.31-39).
With the death of one we love we feel real grief; but we do not mourn without hope. The risen Christ has the final word.
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