“I will miss you when you die, mommy.” Big E said as I tucked him into bed this evening.

My children have been asking me a lot about death lately. It’s a difficult thing for our minds to comprehend, yet a far larger beast for them.

“I don’t want to die, mommy, because I don’t like to die.”

I smile and I stroke his hair. The world can be large and scary to a three year old. I tell him that no one wants to die, and while it seems scary, if we believe in Jesus we get to live with Him when we die.

And I know it is my job to teach him why that is such a good thing.

If he has no context of who Jesus is or what He did for him, then that explanation will do nothing to comfort him. It is only knowing the full extent of Christ’s love and sacrifice for us, our acknowledgment of our own depravity, and our realization of our utter inability to save ourselves, that our perspective on death can be changed.

O death, where is thy sting?

Shortly before my grandmother died she had gotten ill and was in the hospital. We drove up to Pennsylvania to visit her and I remember her whispering, I’m ready. 

With confidence my grandmother was ready to die. Her body had grown weary when her mind had not. She was released from the hospital several days later, but within weeks she was back in and we got the call to come, not for a visit, but for a funeral.

As I sat in her service I wondered over her calmness… over her confidence… over her grace. And I thought, I hope I meet death like she did. I hope I stare it down and say O death, where is thy sting? 

I’m sure a part of her was nervous, but I think it was overpowered by the confidence of knowing death wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning!

Sorry, it wasn’t my plan to tackle such a tough subject this evening. It just sort of happened!!