“Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”
56 The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 57 But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Corinthians 15:55-57
I watched as the tears streamed down flush red cheeks of a mom standing next to a casket of a son gone far too soon. The sting was seen in the weeping of a sister saying good-bye. In the faces of friends, loved ones, co-workers, I found death’s sting.
As believers in Christ, we hold a hope of “until we meet again.” We firmly believe that in the life after this one, we will be reunited in Heaven with those saints that have gone before us. Yet, until then, death’s sting is felt. Like the rush of Niagara Falls the initial wave of grief feels like a crushing blow that you do not know if you will survive. In time, that continual battering of brokenness gives way to the tide of waves that unexpectedly rushes in setting you off course for a moment, an hour, or a day. Grief comes in waves. Some days the sea of sorrow is still and calm. Other days, the skies have opened up and the storms are beating this borrowed battleship of our life.
Where, O death, is your sting? It is for those that live in after we say good-bye. The tension of this life is that in one hand we hold hope of eternity. In the other hand we no longer hold the hand of the one we have said good-bye to. I will echo every sentiment that gets stated, that we as believers do not grieve like those that have no hope, yet we do still grieve. We do still hurt. We do still face the tide of memories that simultaneously make us weep and smile. The sting of death is in the grief that accompanies it.
The three synoptic gospels tell the same story of Jesus and his disciples setting out across the Sea of Galilee after a long day of ministry. A sudden storm pops up, battering their boat putting professional sea-worthy men in fear for their life. Jesus, he is asleep in the stern. Out of their panic they awaken the Lord. He sees their fear and silences the storm. He poses one question: “where is your faith?”
Jesus could rest in the storm because he knew they were getting to the other side. I have wondered if the storm was never meant to be stilled, but the disciples were meant to experience the storm to learn to trust Jesus in the hardest times of life. Some storms are not meant to be silenced.
As I hugged that dear family friend, my heart wanted to whisper peace be still to the storm of grief. Yet, I knew, it was storm that cannot be silenced and probably should not be stilled. Instead, I prayed, Jesus be with them in the boat. Asleep or awake, the Son of God is still in our boat in the sea of grief. Batter as it may get, he is with us. As overwhelming and sensing of near disaster, he is with us. As we fear and cry and struggle, he rests assured that we are getting to the other side. While we want him to shout at the storm, he speaks peace to our hearts in the middle of it, because he reminds us that he is in the boat.
Death, where is your sting?
Grieve. Take the posture of Jesus and weep. Yet, believe he is in your boat and you’re gonna make it to the other side. In time that sting dulls, the tears dry, the waves lessen and what felt like a loss becomes victory.
