Death swaggers in and devastates. It snatches away that which is most precious to you, leaving a smouldering wasteland in its place. Not a facet of your life remains untouched by its charring hand. Death drains colour and joy from your experiences, leaving you, as a surviving onlooker, feeling dead. Death rules over you, insisting that you wear retro, monochromic spectacles when you look at your present, arguing that what you are currently viewing is an accurate reflection on what your future will be too. Yet death is not enough. As powerful as it is, and as vast as its effects are, it lacks the power to perpetually consume the passions of living people, so as to motivate them to useful living. There has to be something greater.
No, when I say death is not enough, I am not saying that it does not crush the spirit. I am not saying that it is an easy predator to stave off. I am not saying that those who grieve heavily are weak. Yes, death is enough to administer this mushroom-cloud explosion. Then, in that ruin, the temptation is to see the majority of life though that burnt lens. Yes, the pain of facing death does stimulate fresh thought, and eventually fresh action. It stirs compassion and drives people to new heights in reaching out to others. It even brings people together, who were either indifferent or at war with each other. It is often the catalyst God uses to sensitise remaining family members and friends to think about their souls and to come to Christ for salvation. Yet I maintain that death is not enough. We cannot stop at this point, utilising this new form of motivation. There must be more.
Facing death and living though the death of loved-ones breeds, over time, a new awareness within the soul. An awareness of a more complete picture of the span of human life, seen from start to finish. A new sensitivity to the pacing of relationships and how the moments of a relationship fit into the whole. An appreciation for the function of people in the world; that they serve a specific purpose, within a very limited time-frame. An awakening as to how unique and purposeful any given phase of life is because God has granted that specific slot in history to this specific individual, to function in a specific way, to interact with specific people, to achieve specific achievements, to ensure the birth of specific children (or not), so that future generations would be impacted in a specific way. Everything is significant as life begins on cue, reaches every critical moment, and then terminates exactly on schedule.
For all of this to be genuinely significant, there has to be more—an ultimate Person, God, in whom ultimate purpose is found. Just as it is deeply satisfying to enjoy the momentary life, and memories, of a person you have loved and lost, so also, on an unspeakably grand scale, is the satisfaction of enjoying the purposeful life and existence of the eternal God. What you, as a mourner have lost in your precious loved-one, you have also gained, as a Christian, with immensely greater value in Christ; a life beyond measure. This is what death does, if drives the weeping eye to the happy heart of Christ in whose everlasting intentions, time-bound bereavement is completely worth the pain. Because in Christ bereavement finds a happy home in an all-consuming, effulgent agenda. So death is not enough to consume the grieving heart for the whole span of life. Rather, the short life-packages of every individual appear in their place as moments God used to bring many to breathtaking, never-ending beauty, satisfaction and joy. This alone is enough to consume the human heart, because it was for this purpose that it was crafted by the hand of God.