I Hate Death

I have a very good memory. I remember things going back to four years old, some three, and I have a few vague recollections of when I was two years old. I trust my brain like I would any good machine. In fact, if I can't remember something or have difficulty recollecting my thoughts, I can put it aside, tend to another task and poof, just like magic the missing data comes to the forefront and surfaces. It never fails. Sometimes it takes a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, but it always works. I love the mind; it is an incredible aspect of this miracle called life. That's why one of my earliest memories has never left me.

When I was about four years old, I was looking out my living room window. We lived on a busy street and I sat there mesmerized by the traffic going by. I watched a man on a bicycle riding with a golden retriever by his side. Strange, it seems to me now, to ride a bike with your dog on a fairly busy street. As I watched, the man turned his bike to cross the street and the dog ran ahead, and was hit by a car. I was scared and confused, but watched as the dog's lifeless body remained still and the biker was in a terrible panic. I began to cry and my Grandmother came over, surveyed the scene, and decided this was too much drama for a girl of four to witness, but it was too late. The reality of death had materialized and being the ever-inquisitive child that I was, began to ask questions. I wanted to know why that dog wasn't moving. Why didn't it get back up? Why was it laying there in blood? Quickly, I learned about death, and I learned that I didn't like it.

I was a very young child, but I knew that death was unfair, ugly, and painful and I didn't like it; in fact, I hated it.

Soon, I began to ask questions about what would happen to me if I died. Would I be found lying in the middle of the street like the dog? Yes, I know, pretty morbid thoughts for a child my age, but still I wondered about the issue and wanted some answers. So my Grandmother explained to me about heaven, and how when I was very, very old, I would close my eyes in sleep and Jesus would take me to heaven. I wanted to know if that dog was in heaven, and if heaven was so wonderful, why was the man on the bike so upset. I had a lot of questions; I witnessed the stark reality that every one must face. Though many try to deny it, try to live as if the inevitable isn't real, or if the day of death will never arrive, all one needs to do is turn on the television to realize that death is everywhere, it surrounds us, and it permeates the air we breathe. We will not escape it's appointment; that is the one time we will not be late and will not be able to reschedule our busy lives for a time that is more convenient. We are all going to die.

When I think about the reality that everyone who is on this planet with me, I mean, the billions of people who are living their lives, no matter what their lot in life holds, will for the most part, in 150 years all vanish, it saddens me. I love life; I love being here. I cannot look into the eyes of my child and not be fully aware of what a miracle life is; yet at the same time, not realize how devastating death is.

Many try to remove the sting of death themselves for death does have a sting. They want to believe that death is a simple transition into another realm, another world where we will continue to have access with the living. They like to look to ghosts and communications with past loved ones as evidence. My friend, I must say that with all of the people who have been on this planet since time began, that were the dead truly communicating with the living in a "ghostly" manner, there wouldn't be any safe place on the planet free from paranormal occurrences. Should every human (and animal) have access to the living realm from the grave, things would be continually moving amongst us at a phenomenal rate. The living would be at the mercy of endless amounts of spirits and ghosts, and that simply isn't the case. Sit down in your home, look around. The millions of people and animals that have died before are not materializing in your room.

I don't understand how people can ignore death. Even atheists who swear off (or at) God, how can they not consume themselves with thoughts of what will happen to them after they die. Do atheists pray if they suffer long, painful demises of life? Is it enough to break their hardened hearts to ask the question, "God, if you're out there, please send help?" I know at one point in my life, I asked that question, and Jesus gave me the answer. He showed me that He is out there, that He does have the answer to death, and that He is the resurrection and the life. I hate death, but I no longer fear it. I have assurance from Jesus Christ that I am safe within the nail pierced palm of His hand. He conquered death and rose from the grave and has promised that life to all who believe in Him. Is there any other purpose to this life, then to determine your eternity? Eternity is coming; it is only a breath away. One last breath, and you won't be slipping back and forth into this world to communicate with the living. Today is the day of salvation; today is the day to seek answers to the questions that your eternity rests upon.