The Fear of Death

Death is the last topic I thought I’d be writing about to kick off my blog’s second year. Yet, here we are; the highest highs always seem to bring to my mind the lowest lows right along with them. And perhaps that’s just as it should be. 

I’ve been taking morning walks lately, and one morning this week I walked to a park I haven’t been to for years, just outside of a well-manicured neighborhood. The park is all woodland, with a creek running through it. Once inside under the completely shaded canopy, I saw that the park itself seemed a completely different world from the sunny neighborhood just beyond. Instead of neatly trimmed grass, there was a mess of moss and fungi blanketing rotting logs. Instead of bushes full of blooms, there were downed trees with their roots exposed, brutally ripped up from the earth beneath. Instead of small blue jays or cardinals hopping about, there were two large, hulking black vultures, still and silent, perched in a pile of fallen leaves above the creek. 

These starkly different scenes just yards from each other perfectly illustrate how death and reminders of it are consciously kept out of sight and ignored as much as possible. 

Death is uncomfortable to think about.

Given how prevalent and obvious death is in this world, I’m interested in why this remains so. I certainly don’t have all the answers, but I do know that we all have an innate sense of the fragility of our lives and our loved ones’ lives. 

Even so, we have to keep surviving, right? No time to think about death when we’re trying to survive. However, there comes a point at which facing death becomes absolutely key to fully embracing our humanity.    

According to the Bible, humans gave up the option to ignore the knowledge of good and evil long ago (Genesis 3:6); we simply don’t have the luxury anymore of being unconscious of it. In a podcast interview, psychologist Jordan Peterson posed the idea that perhaps the remedy now is to be fully or “all the way” conscious of good and evil, since we can’t go back to being “unconscious.” I like this idea, but whether it’s correct or not I think it holds true with the Good News of Christ.

Along with the knowledge of good and evil comes a responsibility to face the good and evil in us.

To face the evil in us could also be described as becoming conscious of our own sin. This is exactly what we must understand before we can sincerely repent; C.S. Lewis talks about this in Mere Christianity. We realize the extent of our sin (evil) and the extent to which we need God’s grace (good) to free us from death’s grip. 

For repentance to come, we need to do something God didn’t design us to do–to stare death in the face. It is when we really see that the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23)–and that death forces us into something we were not created for–that we can understand all that we’ve been saved from by Jesus and how truly amazing His grace really is. 

Turning from our willful ignorance of death to follow Jesus, the Master of death, means we will stop avoiding it and trust that He’s bigger than death itself, as well as every one of our fears.

If we knew the Master of death better, we wouldn’t be so afraid of our own death. 

Jesus came to master death and set us free. To use the woodland analogy, Jesus came to lay His life down, like a fallen tree in the forest, that we might live like a newly sprouted seed from the soil He provided by His act of love. 

Yet, death is still worthy of being sad about, something to deeply mourn and to grieve. Separation from loved ones, though temporary for believers in Jesus, is still deeply painful and still very much a loss. I want to be very clear that it is okay to grieve, mourn, and be sad when it comes to death, no matter who it is, whether or not they were believers. Grief is not something to be brushed aside or ignored.  

When my Jewish grandfather passed away years ago, I was able to experience a community that faced death together in a beautiful way. The love and support of my grandmother’s friends and family was hugely beneficial, even for me in my own grieving process, as they came to simply be present and literally “sit” with her. Shiva following a Jewish burial typically lasts for seven days, providing not only community support but food for the grieving first-degree relatives. 

There is great value in appreciating the seriousness and weight of death and taking time to acknowledge what our hearts are feeling. 

While our culture has lost the skill of being open about death and understanding of grief, we don’t have to when we stay close to Jesus and understand the truth He brings–that death is not the end. Jesus Himself spoke openly about death. He was not afraid to do so, predicting his own death several times. People who had experienced death also came to him in a state of grief. He didn’t turn them away but even grieved with them (John 11:35). He even chose to raise the sick girl (Matthew 9:25), and His friend Lazarus (John 11:44) back to life. 

While I don’t think it is healthy for death to be excessively avoided as a topic of conversation, I also want to make a point to say that an excessive focus on death is not the answer to any problems either. It is only by understanding how God intended life that we can understand death and see it for what it is, no more, and no less. Romanticization of death glorifies the wrong god. 

Life is a gift from God. 

Examining our feelings about death along with the truth of the Bible can give us a deeper appreciation of life and its meaning. Reading Genesis, we find that death as we know it was never meant to be. We were not built for it! We were created to walk with God and eat from the Tree of Life. Death was not in the original plan. 

It is no wonder that it can be so devastating to us psychologically, physically, and spiritually! Knowing this, it is completely natural to avoid death, and it makes perfect sense that we would brush traces of death aside because innately we know what we were intended for.  

Facing death is so hard because God never intended for us to experience it in the first place. 

Death may never stop being hard to face, but it need not take us by surprise, as it so often does. With Jesus’ wisdom and grace, we can explore our knowledge of good and evil. 

We can let Him help us through to the other side of fear as we examine what He says about life and death. We can begin to safely open ourselves up to facing the realities of death when we trust Jesus and His love for us, for there is no fear in love (1 John 4:18). 

Christ and His love sets us free.

The bigger the debt of sin we have been forgiven from, the more we will love Jesus for canceling it. The story in Luke 7 gets me every time, when Jesus forgave the sinful woman with the alabaster jar of perfume. 

Her display of gratitude for forgiveness led Jesus to tell those in His company, “...Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little” (Luke 7:47). When we are conscious and aware of our sins, fully acknowledging our need like this woman, gratitude for our canceled debt leads us to a life full of love and peace. 

As I was headed back from that morning walk in the decaying woodland park, walking once again past neatly spaced out trees and colorful blossoms, these words came to my heart, “All that was lost will be restored to you.” 

That is what God does; He restores what is lost, damaged, sick, even dead, in and for us. 

The very first book of the Bible that was written was Job, which speaks to and confirms this simply, “If you return to the Almighty, you will be restored . . .” (Job 22:23).

The last book of the Bible speaks of the restored life that God will bring to His people: “[His servants] will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads” (Revelation 22:4). How amazing that the story (which is not ours but God’s) that is unfolding will end in God calling us, servants created to glorify and enjoy Him, by His own name. 

Think of the intimacy of giving someone else your name, or of taking someone else’s. That is the intimacy God intends for us to have with Him. What vulnerability and trust to be called by His name! Death is not the end, but rather this beautiful picture of restored, everlasting life in the family of God.

For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Romans 6:5). 

Thank you for spending some of your time journeying with me. If you haven’t yet, please subscribe to the blog, it helps me continue writing about Life with the King. Grace and peace.  

The Joy of Dance

I remember having to sit through my younger sister’s dance recital rehearsal while trying to do math problems. At age 11, anything girly made me roll my eyes. However, out of the 50 or 60 dances, one ballet dance in particular caught my attention even among the racy jazz numbers and the snappy tappers. I found myself being drawn in by the teen ballet set to Tchaikovky’s Waltz of the Flowers

It carried me off into another world where everything seemed better.

The dancers looked genuinely happy. The number was synchronized, artistic, and when I finally saw the dress rehearsal, the white costumes with pink sashes and pink flowers made it all just too beautiful to deny. If this was what dancing could look like, I finally understood why people wanted to do it. “If only I could do that,” I thought. Could I? I wrestled for a few weeks, and then decided. I almost surprised myself when I told my mom I wanted to begin ballet lessons.  

I held tight to the dream of being able to dance like the girls in Waltz of the Flowers, to move with grace. The first year or two of classes revealed my deep love of dance; I danced every chance I could. But when I started competing, I lost sight of why I loved dance in the first place. At competitions, dance was instead about external validation. The hope dance had given me for a better more beautiful world took a backseat until there wasn’t much joy in dance for me anymore; after three years I resigned from the dance team. I couldn’t quite bear to stop dancing altogether though.

Nine years after I quit competing, I did stop altogether. At 25, I simply couldn’t dance. Not because I physically couldn’t. Any doctor would have said I was physically capable. But spiritually, I had nothing left. Without being aware or intentional about my relationship with God, I hadn’t been following Him. I had been consistently careless with my heart and mind, and that summer it caught up with me like a ton of bricks. That’ll slow anyone down real quick.

I had lost all sight of the Lord.

It happened so gradually that it was hard to notice. By the time I did notice, I had stopped even trying to pray. I wasn’t following God’s commands, which provide joy. “The precepts of the Lord are right, giving joy to the heart” (Psalm 19:8). My joy had run out, and I felt it. All of a sudden, everything about my life seemed wrong. I had a vague awareness that I had lost something like innocence but at the time I was blind to the Truth of God. I sought the world’s rational, scholarly answers for why this was happening to me. But nothing satisfied. The truth was, my heart hadn’t received true joy, the joy that comes only from God’s grace and love, for quite some time. What I didn’t know then is that joy is a gift I couldn’t work to give myself. 

Joy is a gift from God. 

It took years for me to make sense of it. All I knew at the time was that I had completely lost strength, mentally and spiritually. I didn’t think that had anything to do with God. Even the thought of attending a dance class right across the street, as I had been, was exhausting. I don’t even remember having hope to dance again. Scripture says, “...Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10). However, I was grieving and weak. I was in pain and didn’t know how to escape it. I didn’t know how to come back to God even if I wanted to (I didn’t, and I blamed Him for how I felt). “Joy is gone from our hearts; our dancing has turned to mourning” (Lamentations 5:15). My dancing had indeed turned to mourning; I was lucky just to get out of bed. Having joy was only a distant memory. 

I had no reason to dance anymore.

Thankfully, God is a merciful God. He never stops loving us and He is always waiting for us to repent. He welcomes us back to Him with open arms when we do. He delights in lavishing His gifts upon His children, and by His amazing grace, He restored my joy that was lost. It took years, but eventually I was ready to accept the Truth. In one of my darkest moments, I focused on Truth instead of my own pain, and let go of blaming God. I repented of my sin. Suddenly, I was filled with joy, and I praise God that joy has not left me since. 

About a year later, I slowly started dancing again, taking one class here and another there. I wanted to savor the process this time and to go at my own pace. I was not disappointed. I found that once again, as when I first began to dance, I could express freedom in the movement. I became sensitive again to the beauty and grace of dance that I had fallen in love with at age 11. Dance is an expression of the heart and a wonderful way to express joy. 

Two years ago, I took an opportunity to perform in a ballet. Though I doubt anyone knew it but God, I wanted to perform again as a testament to how far He’s taken me. From the depths of despair to the stage, He stayed with me through it all. 

To express the joy that He restored to me through dance was a gift.

Now I’m in a season of being stirred to dance the way David danced before the Lord, “Wearing a linen ephod, David was dancing before the Lord with all his might,” (2 Samuel 6:14). This year, I’ve had the opportunity to choreograph for a performance. By God’s grace I was inspired with joyful steps and free, expansive movement. I could not have set that kind of piece without the joy of the Lord. This was just a few weeks ago.

Joy is so powerful it often elicits a physical response. Other responses to joy found in the Bible include shouting (Leviticus 9:24), eating (1 Chronicles 29:22), and singing (Psalm 95:1). There are many outward expressions of joy to the Lord; my favorite, as you may have guessed by now, is dancing. 

If I ever doubt that God has restored me and delivered me from sin, I remember how, not so many years ago, I couldn’t even dance one step under the heaviness of darkness. There’s no denying its contrast with the joy that now flows from my spirit, particularly through dance. God worked the miracle of joy in my life. Dance symbolizes my journey of being brought from death to life. And so, I will dance on. 

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,” (Psalm 30:11).