An Open Letter to Death

Dear Death,

We’ve had a lot of time together over the years.  I met you for the first time that I can remember in 1979 when you took my mom, Edee Reuss.  Because of you I never had a chance to get to know her. 

I’ve been with you at the funerals for all but one of my grandparents.   In fact, you took my Grandpa Dodd in WWII France before my mom was even born.

As a pastor I’ve faced you many times.  One of the first times was one of the hardest as you claimed Licahan Kennell, only 8 years old, in a grain bin accident.

Last fall we met again as my wife Shannon breathed her last here in our home.  I can vividly picture her gasping for breath, the death rattle shaking her body.  I will never forget holding her still body for the last time.

Death, I have every reason to be bitter.  I have every reason to rage against you, against the injustice of losing a mother and a wife at such young ages.  I have every reason to want to check out of life and be miserable. 

But let’s face the facts, death.  You’ve wreaked your share of havoc in my life, but you have not won.  You will never win.  Ever.  You have been utterly and completely conquered by Jesus.  I know those words may seem trite and rote, something that I heard from a Sunday School teacher once upon a time.  For me they are the foundation of my existence.  My faith has always centered around God’s victory over you.  Always.  It started when you took my mom.  I heard words of hope in a God who conquered death.  I grabbed onto those words and have never let them go.  God’s Scriptures abound in stories of God’s victory over death. I could sit here and type chapter and verse over and over again, but you know them as well as I do.  Just go to the book of Revelation and read about the God who has taken you behind the woodshed once and for all.  God wins every time.  You do not.  I have boldly proclaimed those words at funeral after funeral. 

Recently I’ve found tears as I sing in worship.  When the words turn to themes of eternal life and the saints giving God praise I’ve struggled to keep singing as I imagine Shannon with those saints.  It hurts me in deep ways.  Throughout my life these words have sustained my faith in powerful ways.  Death, I’m not about to let you rip them away from me!  I’m not going to avoid those songs or those words.  I’m going to revel in them even as tears flow.   I’ll let others sing them for me if I must.  God has won.  You have lost.

Death, I have a life to live and I’m not going to let you define it for me.  The almighty God and I will walk through this life together.  The day will come when you will come and take me.  I know that, but even then you will not hold me.  The God who sustained me as you took my mother and wife is the same God who claims me as God’s own, now and forever.

Death, you have not won.  You bring pain, but you will never win.  Never!

A claimed son of the living God,

Pete