An Ode to Death
A Blog on Grief by Katie Hawkins
“Where, O death is your victory? Where, O death is your sting?”
– 1 Cor 15:55
This verse penned by the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Corinthians has bothered me. Each time someone close to me has died, this verse rattles around in my mind until I want to shout.
I scream something like this:
I’ll tell you—Paul? Death? God?— Where is the sting? It’s right here in my heart! Right here in my puffy, reddened, scratchy eyes as I’ve sobbed myself dry. I’ll tell you where the victory is… square in the court of the Enemy!
I pray and pray for healing, but it never comes. Death comes, and it feels like defeat. Stinging defeat!
My precious daughter-in-law Vanessa died the night before Thanksgiving. She was 36. She was seriously ill in mind and body, trapped in horrible addictions. One part of me thought maybe she was better off dead and in heaven than having to continually fight a losing battle here on Earth.
But a part of me questioned God’s role:
She was so young, God! She had so much potential in her for good. God, why allow this? You could have healed her! Was her case too hard for You, God? Your Word says nothing is too hard for You! You’ve done miracles before. Why not now?
And a part of me questioned my role:
You prayed for her healing for years, but maybe not enough. You should have prayed more, fasted more. You could have come up with the $80,000 to send her to a top-notch treatment facility, but you didn’t! You could have taken her into your home toward the end, but you didn’t! You should have spoken up sooner when you saw the signs of mental illness, but you cared more about keeping the peace than trying to help her find inner peace.
Oh, the agony of condemnation and guilt and doubt. There was a dark cloud surrounding me for days after V’s death, shutting me away from the comfort God wanted to bring. I wallowed in anger and self-hatred and confusion and felt the sting.
And then God declared enough and let light into my soul, the light that only His clear Word can bring. His Word interpreted correctly.
The Apostle Paul isn’t writing these beautiful lines to communicate that death doesn’t bring sorrow and regrets to those left behind. He writes to remind us to view everything that happens here on Earth through the beautiful lens of the Gospel. Because Christ came, died and rose again, death has been defeated! We believers shall rise again, too. Death doesn’t deal a final blow, just a new address—and a better one at that. Death is a victory! There is no sting for the one who moves on!
I suddenly remembered this beautiful analogy I’d stumbled across online. There was no author listed, or I’d give credit, but here it is:
In a mother’s womb were two babies. One asked the other:
“Do you believe in life after delivery?”
The other replied, “Why, of course. There has to be something after delivery. Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.”
“Nonsense,” said the first. “There is no life after delivery. What kind of life would that be?”
The second said, “I don’t know, but there will be more light than here. Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths. Maybe we will have other senses that we can’t understand now.”
The first replied, “That is absurd. Walking is impossible. And eating with our mouths? Ridiculous! The umbilical cord supplies nutrition and everything we need. But the umbilical cord is so short. Life after delivery is to be logically excluded.”
The second insisted, “Well I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here. Maybe we won’t need this physical cord anymore.”
The first replied, “Nonsense. And moreover, if there is life, then why has no one ever come back from there? Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery, there is nothing but darkness and silence and oblivion. It takes us nowhere.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said the second, “but certainly we will meet Mother and she will take care of us.”
The first replied, “Mother? You actually believe in Mother? That’s laughable. If Mother exists, then where is she now?”
The second said, “She is all around us. We are surrounded by her. We are of her. It is in her that we live. Without her this world would not and could not exist.”
The first said: “Well I don’t see her, so it is only logical that she doesn’t exist.”
To which the second replied, “Sometimes, when you’re in silence and you focus and you really listen, you can perceive her presence, and you can hear Her loving voice, calling down from above.”
God’s loving voice finally pierced the dark mood I was in following Vanessa’s death. He reminded me gently that He is God, and I am not. God whispered to me that He loves Vanessa and no, her case was not too hard for Him. And here’s me, blushing at my presumptuous musings! God had a different solution than the one I’d envisioned and demanded.
I remembered hearing once that the womb is the gateway to life on earth, and the tomb is the gateway to eternal life in heaven. Each may involve a painful passage, and someone always ends up crying, but following Jesus ensures life—both abundantly on Earth and eternally in heaven when we pass on.
Vanessa is healed and happy and experiencing a new life that I can only guess at. The Apostle Paul, under the empowerment of the Spirit, writes truth. I pray the next time a loved one dies, I’ll triumphantly speak this truth:
“Oh death, you have no victory! Oh grave, there is no sting!”
Jesus has triumphed gloriously.