I wonder what it was like to be Jesus’ brother and watch him die; or his mother, sisters, or disciples. More than just the Messiah, here was a son, a brother, and a friend suffering not only death, but the most gruesome and tragic of deaths imaginable. While they knew on some level this death was not permanent, it sure must have felt permanent in the moment. We feel the pain of those closest to Jesus as we read of a great multitude mourning and lamenting on His journey to the cross (Luke 23:27), and of His mother being present at the burial, along with Mary Magdalene (Matt. 27:61). Scripture says that while on the cross Jesus looked down at His mother and gave His position as son to John, His friend and disciple, also giving him the responsibility of a son in treating Mary as his own mother (Jn. 19:26-27). That sure feels permanent. And then after the Sabbath we see Mary Magdalene and others go to the tomb in order to anoint Jesus’ presumably dead body with spices prepared for the occasion (Luke 24:1). There was fear and confusion when they arrived at the tomb only to find it empty, emotions that would only have been present if they were operating under the assumption that Jesus, their loved one would still be there in the same lifeless state as they had left Him. It felt very permanent.
Over the past month I have attended three separate funerals, and it seems as if everyone has lost a friend or loved one over the past few weeks. Death is a very near reality for many of us, especially in this season of life, and it sure feels like a permanent separation. The heartache, the pain, and the grief don’t leave much room for hope. In their own unique ways however, each funeral pointed to an even greater reality than death; that of resurrection. They pointed through the tears to an eternal hope, a hope that is only possible because when the women came to the tomb that morning after the Sabbath it was empty. Death is a very real and very painful reality, but for the one who is in Christ it is a reality that ushers us into the eternal presence of a Jesus who is very much alive. Death reminds us that what we see is not permanent, and that our only hope after this life is in the resurrected Christ.
My three year old likes to talk about heaven so I asked her the other day how we get there. Her response was spot on; “Jesus takes us there.” Feeling what was probably an unhealthy level of pride in that answer I decided to probe a bit more and asked, “so we can’t get there on our own?” To which she responded, “Nope. Because we don’t have any pixie dust.” She’s not wrong, but we also have some work to do. May the hope of eternity encourage us in these trying times, not because it’s a band aid to cover the pain or an unrealistic expectation based on fairy tales, but because it’s founded on the reality that the One who died and rose again is the One who takes us there.
~~ Tim Wilson