I was not exposed to a lot of death when I was young, with the exception of the television reports about Viet Nam, which seemed so disconnected from my small world. I’m sure there were church members who died, but I was blissfully unaware. I had no extended family to speak of, so when we traveled to Pittsburgh for my grandfather’s funeral, he was just another person I knew of, but did not know. I was raised on the belief that most of us will end up in heaven, so death isn’t something to be afraid of. Good in theory, but not always convincing in practice. I was trained on what I believed to be a good theology of death; live well, do good, and let God take care of the rest. I still follow that simple path.
That’s why I was shocked when a woman who was a member in the second church I served – a beautiful and generous soul – admitted to me that she was afraid to die. She was in her late 80’s and living in a nursing home with a lot of health problems. I hesitated, which I think she took to be me taking a thoughtful pause to commune with God (it wasn’t); I honestly didn’t understand how she could feel this way. She was a deeply spiritual person who had spent her entire life in the church. She faithfully attended worship and lived a great life. She was the kind of person, from a faith perspective, that I wished everyone could be. When I asked her where this fear came from, she couldn’t pinpoint it; she could only say that she sometimes doubted God’s existence, and that made her feel afraid that God would punish her. In my best 26-year-old naive way, I assured her that doubt was something everyone struggles with, and God would never hold that against her. Did that help? I have no idea. Was I right? Again – no idea.
Good theology allows room for questions and doubt. Bad theology demands unanimity and unswerving allegiance. Good theology recognizes that every death is sad; some are even tragic. Bad theology teaches us to say things like “everything happens for a reason” and “God has a plan” and “Jesus needed another angel” and “It was his/her time.” Good theology empathizes with loss, knowing that every person goes through the death of a loved one. Bad theology demands unswerving belief. Good theology tells us that grief and anger and despair over the death of a loved one is fine with God. Bad theology tells us that we must believe (or else).
I believe in the resurrection of the spirit, and I believe in heaven and, for the very few, some kind of hell. I have no idea, like the Apostle Paul, what any of that will look like, so I live with the uncertainty as uneasily as most people do. I do not believe that the beginning of wisdom is the fear of God – I believe that loving God is the gateway into being able to live in the liminal space between this life and the next. I hope heaven isn’t like it is described in the Book of Revelation; that seems pretty boring. I don’t know if I will see the people I love there either; that is above my pay grade. I do know that whatever heaven (yes, I am making an assumption) is, it will be just fine. And I will keep trying to live well, do good, and let God take care of the rest. I can’t do anything more than that. Neither can you.
Prayer – Holy God, we seek assurance that You love us enough to welcome us to Your kingdom. May it be so. Amen.
Today’s art is called “Painting the Heavens” by Margie Chapman.