“When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

“Death is swallowed up in victory.”

“O death, where is your victory?

O death, where is your sting?”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.”

The last word on death is that it will be ultimately and finally defeated. Revelation 20-21 teaches that Death itself will be thrown into the lake of fire. Death will be no more and God Himself will wipe away every tear from the eyes of His people.

As I write this post the sting of death is looming over my family. Today I received word that my 87 year old grand father is moving from the ICU to Hospice. I received word while I was sitting in the church auditorium doing some reading and being available for questions from the mission team that is doing various projects around the building. After getting the note from my family I couldn’t help but put the book down and walk up to the piano and flip through my hymnal to the old gospel song by Fanny Crosby “Face to Face.”

Now before any of the readers start feeling sorry for me, I want to clarify that I was able to go home and be with my grandpa about two weeks ago and spend a full week there with my family. While I was there “Papa “went in and out of the hospital three times, but he still had enough strength to make it out to church for the midweek prayer meeting, as well as the Sunday services. He was able to be there to hear me preach twice and though he has been losing his memory more and more and getting increased confusion, he not only stayed awake during my two overly long sermons on Wednesday night and Sunday afternoon, but he also was able to follow the message and even talk to me about it afterwards. I think it was probably his last week where he was mentally coherent. After spending the week there in Florida I came back to the city fully aware that I had most likely seen my grandpa for the last time on this side of eternity.

As I sat there at the piano playing the old songs about heaven from days gone by, I couldn’t help but think of my other grandpa – my dad’s dad, who received his promotion about 15 years ago. I was thinking about the reunion that Papa and Grandpa will have when Papa makes it home – they were not just in-laws but they were retired preachers and friends that both lived in the same town and attended the same church where my dad has pastored for almost 30 years. After thinking of the good time they will have and Grandpa Woodard there as part of the “the great cloud of witnesses” ready to welcome Papa Tillman home, I thought of the welcome when Papa see’s Jesus face to face.

Those lines from Crosby’s song paint a vivid picture of the believers joy to see Jesus.

When my lifework is ended, and I cross the swelling tide,
When the bright and glorious morning I shall see;
I shall know my Redeemer when I reach the other side,
And His smile will be the first to welcome me.

Through the gates to the city in a robe of spotless white,
He will lead me where no tears will ever fall;
In the glad song of ages I shall mingle with delight;
But I long to meet my Savior first of all.

As I think about the missionary life and losing a loved one, I have it easy compared to my aunt and uncle that live and serve as missionaries in Poland. For them, a plane ticket will cost over a thousand dollars – and then there’s three people in their family still live at home. It’s much easier for me because I can hop on a plane out of any of the three major NYC area airports and fly into either Tampa or Orlando for around $350. But throughout history, the missionary life meant someone else was going to bury your parents and grandparents.

As I anticipate the passing of Papa, I’m sad, because unless I die young, it’s going to be a while before I see him again. But on the other hand, he is on the brink of glorification. Think about that. There will be no more night, no more pain, no more tears, never crying again. As Papa’s health has declined he’s become far more emotional than I’ve ever seen him before. Tears have easily flowed over the last few weeks from the eyes of an old Montana Cowboy turned preacher some sixty years ago. But one day soon he’ll see His face, and every tear He’ll wipe away, no more pain or suffering, because Jesus is risen from the dead.