The great equalizer...

I have been thinking that in many ways, death is the Great Equalizer.  Or perhaps it is the Great Eraser.  Or both.  Or neither.

It is not that what comes before in a life does not matter.  It does.  Vitally.  But what comes before also does not matter.  What one has done or not done, pales in comparison to suffering, in comparison to facing the end of life, in comparison to loss, to grief.  What harm has been done or not done.  What love has been given or not given.  What mercy has been shown or not show.  None of it matters.  Death is not the ultimate revenge or the perfect punishment.

Death is not about revenge or punishment. Death is not about reward.  Death is not about justice.  Death is simply death.  It is wrong in every sense of the word and of the world.  Death is not what our triune God designed or intended for His creation.  Death is a result of sin.  Death is sin's victory.

Eternally, Jesus Christ robbed sin of that victory.  Eternally, the Holy Spirit brings life that has no end.  Eternally, death is an odd sort of rejoicing for it means that those who have been washed clean in Holy Baptism, saved by the work of the Living Word, get to go home, to the place where life actually is the way God intended.

But temporally, in this fallen world, death still has its sting. Oh, does it have its sting.

Sometimes, someone does slip away "peacefully," but their ending is not peaceful for those left behind.  Sometimes, those who are dying do so in agony--an unwelcome legacy of the achievements of modern medicine.  For example, cancer victims are promised another year or two or perhaps another month, but that time is bought with a terrible price.

Sometimes, death comes too soon, when life in this world has barely begun.  Sometimes, death comes in medias res, when other lives before and after are affected ... parents, spouses, children.  Sometimes, death comes at the end, where deep ties make the rending near impossible to survive.  Death is never welcome.  It merely is.

We are all given temporal life.
Sin always takes that temporal life away.

In the 10th chapter of John, Jesus tells us that He came to give us life, abundant life, and that the thief came to to steal, kill, and destroy.  Notice that order.  To me, order matters.  Kill is not last.  Destroy is.  To me, death destroys, can destroy, far more than the temporal life it takes.  Kill is not first either; it is the metaphorical meat sandwiched between theft and destruction.  Steal, kill, destroy ... love, truth, wealth, health, life ... all are stolen from us and destroyed in death.

So, what I am trying to say is that there is no good in death.  Death is not something anyone deserves more than another.  The mass murderer deserves death as much as I.  As we learn in the third chapter of Romans, all have sinned.  Is the breaking of one Commandment worse than another?  We perceive some to be worse, maybe even label them so, but they all have the same cost in the breaking: eternal death. Eternal separation from God.  Eternal suffering.  An eternity of life not being as God intended.

Yes, death can be an end to suffering in this world, but death is not what God intended.  The frailties,   the failings of our bodies are not what God intended.  How, then, can anyone rejoice in that?  No matter what the person has done or not done.  There is no rejoicing in his death.  There is no justice in her death.  There is no satisfaction is death.  Not without sin.

I am sin. I cannot not sin.  Such grieves me.  Such is a strange sort of comfort.  Such magnifies the work of Christ crucified beyond comprehension.  Such epitomizes the freedom of the Gospel. I can, however, try to not sin. With the strength of the Holy Spirit, the certitude of my baptism, the sustenance of the Lord's Supper, and the power of the Living Word, I can try to not sin.

One way I am trying is to see death as the great equalizer and to let whatever justice I might think is due fall away.  Years ago, a man who hurt me died a painful, degrading death.  When I learned of his suffering, I felt satisfaction and had no pity for him, no compassion.  I was convinced that he deserved such a death.  I know now that I was wrong.  What he did was wrong, but I was also wrong.

I am not talking about forgiveness.
I am not talking about forgetting.
All I am saying is that two wrongs do not make a right.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!