By Guest Writer
I held my father’s hand as the accordion machine pumped air into his lungs. It was time to say goodbye.
How do I let go of the one who tethered me, taught me how to see the world? How do I let go of the hugs that could melt away tears?
The nurse clicked off the death-machine march, and the room fell silent enough to hear dad’s deflating breaths. My husband and I sang “Amazing Grace” as I held dad’s cooling hand. A tear traced down his face. He whispered his last breath.
In that moment, I wanted to reach out my arm and grab forward into the new heavens and new earth (Revelation 21:1). I wanted to run into my father’s safe arms, skipping ahead of the pain and suffering of grief. It’s been eighteen years, and thinking about his death still makes me want to hide in a corner for a week.
Because the reality is, death is a curse (Genesis 2:17, Hebrews 9:27). A consequence (Romans 6:23). A horrific reality of the world torn by sin (Genesis 5). Where parents and children die and our souls cry out, “It should not be this way!”
What pain or suffering has your family faced because of the curse of death? In our pain, our hope echoes as we wait for the reverse of the curse to come, tearing through the clouds—a new reality where God once again dwells with his creation and there is no death or suffering, no mourning or pain, for the curse has been done away with (Revelation 21:3–4).
But for now, we breathe in a heavy weight as we wait for this hope. We carry the marks of our brokenness. These marks can look like the physical scars of cancer surgery or maybe the stiff knee from high school soccer. Maybe they look like the deeper wounds of injustice or the loss of a spouse. Whatever the wounds, we all have them.
And with every wound, we reach forward more to our great hope, a hope not like a wishing well or positive vibes (whatever those are). Our future hope is a physical reality, paved with gold and flooded with the light of God’s glory, where all who are in Christ will dwell with new bodies that never die (1Corinthians 15:42–49, Revelation 21:21–23). This is trustworthy and true (Revelation 21:5, 22:6).
So as we suffer momentarily, even in the darkest days of despair, we can trust the promises of our future home. We set our hope on things above (Colossians 3:1–4) because we can be sure God will make all things new (Revelation 21:5)—including my father’s body.
Written by Seana Scott
Post Comments (0)