When Something Dies

There’s something unwordable that happens inside us when facing a death. A dream you gave your savings, years, and health for shrivels. A friend’s tumor returns. A mom longs for heaven’s door.

There’s something unwordable that happens inside us when facing a death. A dream you gave your savings, years, and health for shrivels. A friend’s tumor returns. A mom longs for heaven’s door.

Each of us could fill pages with our own aching stories. But it is next to impossible to give voice to that feeling deep in your soul. Over the past 5 years, I’ve pleaded with God as faithful grandparents suffered their last days away. I’ve sat with my forty year old friend as cancer ravaged her prime. And I’ve watched friendships uprooted and dreams stolen by misunderstandings.

Death interrupts our routines, dulls our senses, and deepens our faith—if we let it. I grew up on stories of Lazarus and Christ’s empty tomb. And I believe for certain that everyone who dies will rise again. But it’s not until lately that I’m discovering resurrection is for the living too.

In John 12:24 Jesus puts it this way, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” Not only was Jesus giving the Greeks a glimpse into his upcoming death, but he was also calling his disciples to an upturned perspective. He continues saying, “Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life” (John 12:25).

Some of us will be called to give everything—including our lives— to follow the life of Christ. But for others death takes on other tones. Pitches that include friends and five-year plans, mortgages and family roots. Such deaths usher us into dark places within our souls. They expose our arrogance and youthful insistence. They sift our priorities and instruct us in the ways of true significance.

And when we emerge from those deep, spiritual places, something beautiful begins to sprout. With our grip loosed and face dirty, we start seeing glimpses of light piercing the surface of our soul’s sod. Such light illuminates God’s goodness and nurtures deep fruitfulness within.

 Like tangerines dangling from orchard branches, their bright appeal beckons us to try their sweetness. The fruit from death is not for us alone but for those entrusted to our care. After we’ve walked those eerie roads, done the soulful digging, and confronted our inner compulsions we have something profound to offer. Life is sweeter on the other side, and its hopeful fragrance is unmistakable to those still journeying through death’s valley.

So will you join me on this venture of death and life? Open your hand, take your precious seeds, and let them fall to ground. The journey downward is cruel and grueling. But cling to the promise of the One who went before and walks beside. There are tangerines for sharing on the other side.