Scared of Dying?

Saturday I played for a funeral service for a man I never met. He was the ex-husband of one of my choir members, and he died at the young age of 60 of cancer. Died of cancer. Its a hard sentence, one that I hear often these days. Pastor made a very interesting remark during the service. She said that as we must leave the womb to be born, so we must exit life to continue our journey with God. Afterwards, I was chatting with another elderly choir member who wondered out loud just why we are so afraid of dying. She thought it should be something we look forward to, a celebration, an entering into a better place where there is no pain, no sorrow, no unhappiness.

I wonder, when the time comes, will I be afraid? I hope I will not be. I have sat with several people when they passed from this life to the next - not a common thing for this day and age. One was my Grandmother. I don't believe she was afraid when the moment came. Oh, she had a few moments of angst when the thought was heavy on her mind before death was all that imminent. It was as if she forgot all the years she had known Christ and she was panicking. But she remembered her Scripture verses, experiences she had during her life when God was so real to her and soon she was calm about it.


Another person was my son Michael. I was with him when he died. I held him in my arms. He was ten. Ten. He didn't choose to be sick. But he was. On the night he passed, I woke in the middle of the night and I knew something was wrong. I went to him, and held him, not realizing how bad it was, just knowing he was restless and needed me. He asked permission to go home. I thought he meant back to New York since we were living in Oklahoma at the time. He told me the man up there wanted him to go with him, and he pointed to the ceiling. In fact, he told me there were several men there. One was Jesus, the others were angels. And they were there to escort him home.

Home. I'm pretty sure he didn't make it up. And he was not afraid. He was excited to go and worried about leaving me. He didn't want me to be sad. But he was going. He tried to tell me what he was seeing. It must have been wonderful. He tried to talk more, but he couldn't make the words work right. His face was full of joy. And he was gone, just like that. Of course, we went crazy doing CPR and calling 911 and all the things you do when death invades your space. You don't forget a thing like that.

People who work with the dying will tell you Michael's experience is not unusual. There are numerous books written about near death experiences, and just as many "experts" who will tell you it is the result of chemical imbalances in the brain and all sorts of things. People have struggled with death for centuries, and talk about it in all sorts of ways. I like the "crossing over Jordan" image. I choose to believe that there is a God, and there is a heaven where I will go when I die. Not because I deserve it, nor because I am special in some way, but because God so loved the world and provided a way through the death of His son so that anyone who chooses can spend eternity with Him.

When the angels come to take me home, I hope I will not be afraid. How God must laugh at our reluctance to step into the light and be free from pain and sorrow and misery. Fear? That's anxiety about the unknown, because what we don't know may cause us pain. But I know Whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I've committed (my eternal soul) unto Him against that day.

When I am afraid, I will trust in Him. I have no idea what the next few weeks will bring. Whatever it is, I will not face it alone. So until the time comes, I will not waste time stewing over something I cannot control. When your time comes, it comes. And that's a curtain call no one can refuse.