Thursday, December 22, 2016

The View From Beyond the Grave?

Grief is painful.  Perhaps the only other pain like it I can think of is arthritis.  It might not be the most intense at a particular time (although it can be very intense), but it is the fact that it is not just something you suffer now, but something that you know is going to come back.  It sits like some kind of magical beast that can't be seen until it jumps upon you.  It doesn't jump from the darkness, it jumps and brings the darkness along with it.  it jumps on you and stands on your chest, depriving you of light and air and seemingly threatening your very existence.  Words can't assuage grief, they can't run it off, they can't even make it bearable.Not even time really relieves the pain, instead we just become accustomed to it, we accommodate it at best. 

I was listening to Ravi Zacharias talk about this topic. A person had asked the question of how could a loving God take away their mother when they were only ___ years old. Not at all an easy question. As Ravi pointed out it comes from a sincere heart and is a pain at the core of our being. I won't recreate Ravi's answer. It rests upon the presumption of a moral law giver (God) in even making sense of the question. 


The thought that came to my mind is that it seems to be the wrong end of the question in some respects. "Why do I have to live without?  This is a very egocentric question, the "I" rests at the subject of the question.  It focuses upon my pain, my needs.

Don't misunderstand, it is an understandable and natural question in so many ways. I have, and will again ask that question.  It is central to our human experience to ask. But let's flip the question to a different perspective. Our 'earthly life' is measured in seasons and years. With science, good living, and a lot of luck we will circle the sun perhaps 85 times if some actuary tables are to be believed. The real question is how is our time in this life is

evaluated or measured against all of time.  Tom Wright calls it life, after life after death.

We actually begin our time on this earth in a state of death.  We are dead in our sin.  However, through Christ we are offered life--life after death, not just at some point in the future ure but in the now!  That is a tremendous promise given to us.  Then, there will be but a shadow of death that will cross us in our futures before the fullness of life in the very presence of God is experienced!  Thus as Wright notes, life, after life, after death.

Oh but how we cling to our days here and now.  We struggle and we cling to them, because they are in fact a precious gift.  I wonder if a caterpillar mourns the end of his days as a caterpillar?  It seems natural that he would, he knows not the beauty ahead.  It is natural.  For you see, death brings an absence to us.  Those left behind will surely be missed.  Just as in this life we have an absence of the presence of God, in life, after life, after death we will have a brief absence of loved ones here, until we are united again.

In this life we can't help but plead to God for why someone would be taken so soon.  Why was our elderly grandmother who loved us dearly taken away?  Why was our spouse or sibling stripped of us in their prime?  Why was the young so early ripped from our grasp in this life?  Why must we experience absence so deeply?

I wonder, and this is the question I think is looking at it from the other end, I wonder if those who have gone before us are asking God why they must wait so long for us to be together again?  "Why can't eternity begin now?" they implore of Him.  Again, absence is something we weren't designed to deal with.  If absence is the pain then the only balm is presence.