Okay, so let’s talk about death. How can anyone believe that death is simply an end to life? That’s scary. Really scary. When you die, you cease to exist? There is no more thinking, no feeling, no knowing. You don’t know you are dead, because you’re dead? It’s difficult to comprehend.
If this is the case, then what is the point in life? You would have nothing to live for, nothing to hope for. Life would be lived in fear of death. Death would be some incomprehensible final destination that keeps us worrying about whether things will be okay after we are gone.
If death is truly the end, then time dictates our lives in entirety; we are no more than meaningless agents of time, ticking away towards the vast emptiness of non-existence.
We live our lives in order to get to heaven, but then why live at all? Is it so we may know suffering and therefore truly appreciate the splendor of heaven? Sometimes we get fed up with this world and wonder why we are here at all. Do we come to Earth with the free will to decide where we spend eternity? We have free will but the God of knowledge already knows the choices we will make. Does that mean God knows before we are born whether we will end up in heaven or hell? What then, is the point of living out our choices? Our God loves us and hates to see us hurting from this world- why don’t we start off in heaven, especially if He knows our hearts before He creates us? And why create someone who He knows will turn against Him and wind up in the grasp of Satan? I guess in the end, everyone gets what they truly desire (For all find what they truly seek). Tough questions, brain overload.
Death = End of time on Earth.
So make you time here count, but while you are here, remember where you are going.
My heart hurts. It hurts because of sickness. Because of pain. Because of the inevitability of death. We have hope. Oh-my-goodness she’s shown us strength. But it stares at us. It obstructs our view and habitually pounds fear and heartache into the depths of who we are.
Today, as I struggled with the complexity of this monster, I decided to look back on the thoughts I had about death several years ago. They seem inconsequential. They seem petty. Thoughts without context. Now, faced with losing someone who has made my life more complete and filled with joy, I’m not thinking about the true meaning of death.
I’m thinking about heartache. I’m thinking about fear. I’m thinking about seemingly unbearable grief. And not even my own grief. I’m thinking about her grief. Her husband’s grief. The fear, confusion and pain felt by her children. Her parents’ anguish. My mother’s incredible sorrow as she faces losing a sister and best friend. No matter my stance on life after death, this is heartache.
So we hope, we pray, we love. We love.