Connecting the Truth of Easter with my Reality of Grief
Isaiah 25:8 He will destroy death forever
For the past few years I have been torn in my celebration at
Easter. Since my brother died a lot of the verses and phrases that are commonly
used within a church service or worship song—such as ‘death has lost its
sting’—have me muttering and disagreeing, and sometimes feeling angry with God
and all those worshipping sharing in this joy that death is no longer the end
game. For me, hearing people sing “now death, where is your sting?” makes me
want to stand up and shout “it’s here, it’s in me, it’s in grief and mourning
and life!” For me, the sting is real because I’ve been left behind. Of course
what the verse really speaks of is everlasting life in the Kingdom of God, and
that we should be thankful and victorious knowing we will one day be reunited
with our Saviour; and loved ones.
At my brother’s funeral we sang Thine Be the Glory as our
first song, and when that song was put forward for my university’s Christian
Union (CU) one week when I was in the worship team, I almost refused to sing
it. This was the first time the song had been used around me since Josh’s
funeral. I mentioned this to a friend at CU before worship began and she said
she views the song and the line ‘death hath lost its sting’ as triumphant
because although it still hurts for us, we know those people we miss are safe;
we know their spirit is gone from their bodies, not sitting under 6ft of dirt
or scattered in a field, but actually having a party so perfect and rapturous
we wouldn’t be able to comprehend it if we tried. She said that for her, death
has lost the sting of separation; she believes she will see her loved ones
again, it’s just a matter of time.
I have often heard people say that the death of a close
loved one has brought them closer to God or turned them from their faith
completely. For me it surely made me believe in God more than ever, but for at
least the first year after Josh’s death I resented God with a fire that could
burn down a city. I couldn’t have turned away from someone I was so awfully
angry with. I had so much anger inside of me, as I still do, but I was unable
to reconcile this anger and forgive, because the person I had to forgive was this
apparently all-knowing creature I can’t touch, see or feel. If He was
all-knowing, shouldn’t He have stopped it? But I have always held the belief
that my God is a fair God: He would never cure one boys incurable illness, that
wouldn’t be fair. I knew in my heart that nothing anyone on Earth could do
would have saved Josh from his early death, so I was angry that God had put me
into my family, that He had allowed me to love so deeply this person who would
be gone so soon, who wouldn’t even outlive his cat, whose muscles would slowly
destroy themselves, who I would have to watch grow weaker my whole life until
the end of his. But at the same time I wouldn’t want to imagine my life without
him, my fun, brave, silly big brother who brought me and my siblings and my
parents years of joy, wisdom and laughter. But after his death, all the world
would sting: I would feel a ‘sting’ in church, watching children stand where
his coffin lay, miming actions to ‘Fishy Songs’; I would feel a ‘sting’ on each
anniversary or birthday without him; I can feel the sting of death every time
someone asks how many siblings I have. The sting was and is so very real.
Somewhere through that first year without my brother, I came
across a few bible verses and sermons about death and bereavement which I have
clung to very tightly, the main one being “never again will death have the last
word” from Romans 6:9. I actually asked if this could be put on Josh’s
headstone, but a different verse was agreed on. I still intend to save up and
engrave a stone with this scripture on, to lay at the foot of his grave. I
cling to this verse because it gives me hope. Death losing it’s sting implies
we shouldn’t be hurt by death, but Romans 6:9 tell you why you no longer need
to be hurt by death. Of course this revelation doesn’t come overnight, you
can’t choose how you feel and I still grieve and mourn heavily for my brother
in my ordinary days. I don’t believe any bible verse will take away my grief. I
don’t think I’d want one to, either, as my grief is also an expression of love
and reminds me of the great relationship I shared with an amazing person and
reminds me of how I am now changed for the loss of these. However anything that
gives me hope is, I believe, worth my time and value. So I cling to this verse
and know that one day I will see my brother again, that his incredible spirit
has not been wasted or trapped in a coffin, it’s in Heaven enjoying the feast
and party of eternity with Jesus.
Easter is a time when there are a lot of songs being sung about
one man, God in flesh, rising from His own death. Lots of verses are spoken
about how we shouldn’t mourn for Christians as they don’t need our mourning,
having been saved. Sometimes this just reminds me that I have yet to be saved
and confirms the feeling of being left behind. Last year however, the second
Easter since my brother’s death, our vicar gave a very good sermon about the
death of Christians and our relationship with grief after their passing. One of
the things he likened it to is a daffodil bulb. Daffodils, heavily associated
with springtime and Easter, don’t flower all year round, and for surface
appearance seem to die shortly after flowering, just like how the human life
seems very short and we die and retreat into bones and dust. Over Summer,
Autumn and Winter we lose the bright vibrant daffodil and are left with no
trace above ground, but we know the bulb stays underground, keeping its life
but with no outward appearance. My vicar likened this to our spirits remaining
real and alive after death, even though our bodies have died and decayed. We
know that one day, we will see that beautiful strong yellow flower again. Just
because the flower is gone, just because my brother is gone, just because Jesus
was dead and buried, we still have hope that they will rise again, as Jesus did
at Easter. The rest of Romans 6 is, for me, a declaration of faith. It reads
that if we know that Jesus physically died, and believe that He physically rose
again and ascended to Heaven after death, we too will physically die and our
spirits ascend to Heaven. It declares that Jesus beating death means that death
is beaten—the simplest way to explain Easter. Death is no longer the end-game,
but eternal life with Jesus is. And so never again will death have the last word.
The rest of Romans 6:8-9 is this:
What we believe is this: If we get included in Christ’s sin-conquering death, we also get included in his life-saving resurrection. We know that when Jesus was raised from the dead it was a signal of the end of death-as-the-end. Never again will death have the last word. - (Message)
If we died with Christ, we know we will also live with him. Christ was raised from the dead, and we know that he cannot die again. Death has no power over him now. - (NCV)
Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. 9 For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. – (NIV)
