This morning I learned of the death of a former student.
Sudden, unexpected death.
Now, in this season of life, when we read verses like Zechariah’s pronouncement about Christ’s birth: “…the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us,” death has again triumphed, and a family is weeping. Christmas will forever be changed for them. Even when the great waves of grief have passed, every year, in the midst of celebration, there will be a tinge of sorrow.
Death has broken in.
My soul rages when I hear news like this. Somewhere deep down in me is the knowledge that this is wrong. It should not be like this. We learn to live with dysfunctional families, fallen bodies, mental illness–all the “subtle” reminders of a broken system. But then death breaks in and hauls us up short. We turn the corner from “life is hard but endurable–even good at times” to find that the passage before us is gone. It has dropped off and all we see is darkness.
“This is unacceptable,” I want to say.
But I have no power to change it. In fact, in my own small way, I, too, will wreak death as I walk through my days: wounding those I love most, including my own self.
I don’t always notice this, but then a life that intersects with my own is snuffed out, and capital-D Death makes me wail with a specific-yet-vague knowing of the shadow that hovers over our planet and in our very hearts.
At times like this I get a glimpse into what God must have felt when His beloved image-bearers made that irrevocable choice that doomed all of creation to groaning and travailing in a bondage of corruption.
God sorrowed–far more than we because He could see the great contrast between what was planned and what we chose.
But then He did more! The Lion of the tribe of Judah roared.
We thought it was simply a whimper–an insignificant birth, a controversial life, an ignominious death.
But no! It was a roar! “It is finished!” was a victory cry. His death had swallowed up death itself.
We are in the night of sorrow.
But morning will come.
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