Reversing Death

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.

Death is all around us. We are surrounded by it. We are so used to it that often we don’t even see it.

It’s spring now. The grass is turning green. How many of you have allergies? Illness is a sign of death. Allergies are your immune system reacting to things in the air.

We have cemeteries where we place our loved ones, and we go and visit their graves in memory because they are no longer with us. We have famine in the world. We have war in the world. We have crime in the world. These are all shadows and reflections of death.

Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of how much more white there is in my beard than there was just six years ago. I have a photo on my wall from seven years ago, and there’s hardly any white in it. And I think, “What happened?” Age happened. We slow down, and death comes for us all. The only two sure things in life are death and taxes. You’ve got a little less than a month on your taxes, by the way. Hopefully you have more than a month on death.

But that’s not true for everyone. We have members in our congregation who live under a death sentence. They have terminal diagnoses. Every day is a new victory for them. It is truly the curse of curses. There is nothing worse. It breaks our hearts so deeply that sometimes, when we see the reflection of death in illness, we even pray for death to come so that suffering may end.

One of the cruelest forms is dementia, when our loved ones die long before they die.

And the fault of this is our own. We chose this. Our first parents desired to be like God instead of trusting God. They desired power and dominion and authority. They desired to glorify themselves, and sin took the opportunity. They reached out and ate.

And what did they gain? Heartache—watching their children kill each other. Pain. And finally death. All through the generations, down to us. It’s enough to make someone despair.

But when God laid the curse of death, He also laid the hope of the Restorer. That’s who Cain was supposed to be—the promised one of God who would lead Adam and Eve back into the garden. Which makes the story of Cain and Abel all the more tragic.

God promised an end to death. He promised an end to our heartbreak and pain. He promised an end to sin. And He does it in the way God always does—completely unexpected. When we make things, we use our hands and mold them. God spoke, and creation came into existence.

When God waged war against Satan on earth, He did it by becoming a baby. By fasting and prayer. By feeding people and calling them to repentance. By restoring them. And the thanks He received was crucifixion. He waged war against Satan by dying—taking our death upon Himself.

He came and took all our sin upon Himself. It doesn’t make sense. If you commit a crime, your best friend doesn’t go to jail for you. If you’re speeding, your brother doesn’t pay the ticket for you. You have to make it right. You have to pay for it.

But God does it for us. God does it because He loves us. He loves His creation, and instead of destroying it, He redeems it. And He promises to remake it.

Satan tried to lock Him in the tomb. He thought it was over. But on April 5th we will celebrate the victory when the stone is rolled away from the mouth of the tomb, and Christ is not there. It is empty. And so Paul penned those words: “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” Death has been judged by God. That’s what “swallowed up” means—Old Testament language for judged by God.

That which is killing us has been destroyed so that we may have everlasting life. Even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil.

I dwell on many verses in Scripture, but that is one I always return to. David does not say he is stuck in the valley of the shadow of death. He says we go through it, because the Lord is faithful. The Lord does not abandon His sheep, but walks with them in danger all the way. He walks with them as the Good Shepherd, fighting off the bears, the wolves, the bad shepherds. For He is not the hired hand, but the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep.

And He takes us through this veil of tears. He takes us through the illnesses that kill us. He takes us through that last breath and delivers us to His Father in heaven—where God Himself wipes away every tear from our eyes, where death is no more, where there is no mourning nor crying nor pain. All the curse is reversed.

And the promise is greater still. The promise isn’t just that we get to heaven—and that would be enough. It would be perfect if that were all. But God promises something even better: that Christ will return, and the resurrection we receive will not just be spiritual in heaven, but physical on this earth again, dwelling in a new and better garden—the new Jerusalem, paradise restored.

This is our hope in the midst of pain. When we cry out, “Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy,” He has had mercy upon us. When we say, “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner,” He has had mercy upon us.

And we have hope.

There should be no such thing as a grumpy Christian. I read a lot about Christians—it’s a professional hazard—and I was surprised to learn that the restaurant shift nobody wants to work is the Sunday lunch shift. Because Christians get out of church after hearing the gospel and the forgiveness of sins, and they complain the most and tip the least.

What are we doing?

We are a people of hope and joy, even in heartbreak. It doesn’t mean we’re happy all the time. But it means we don’t grieve as those without hope. We grieve knowing the answer has already taken place, and the greater promise is still to come. And we can carry one another’s burdens. We can walk with people as they walk toward their death and as we walk toward ours. We can walk with them knowing that in the love of God, death has been conquered. And we have a peace that surpasses all understanding. We have a joy and a comfort that the sorrows of this world cannot overcome.

For we are the bride of Christ, His treasured possession, the apple of His eye. You are redeemed in the blood of the Lamb.

As we finish up Lent, be people of joy. Be people of hope, knowing that death has been overcome in Christ Jesus. And that no matter what happens on this side of eternity, the other side has been secured forever because of Christ our Lord.

In His name, amen.