The Last Word

It feels like forever since I've posted on this crazy thing. I suck, but it was a busy, busy weekend. Anyways, here goes:

Read: 1 Thessalonians 4-5

Part of the reason this weekend was so busy was my grandpa's funeral. Well, rather, the whole reason. I'd like to contrast his funeral with a funeral for Bob Pfendler I had attended earlier in January. Bob: still a relatively young guy with a kid in college, died of a brain aneurysm that happened suddenly and completely without warning. Grandpa: old guy, lots of kids, grandkids, and even a few great-grandkids, lived with Parkinson's for the last 20 or so years, had trouble communicating and taking basic care of himself.

On paper it seems like Bob's death is definitely more tragic. I found myself often telling people who wished condolences that in some ways Grandpa's death was almost a relief. No matter how much better his passing might be, I was/am still hanging on tightly to the idea that life is always better than death. It just doesn't seem proper to say, "I'm glad he's gone," does it?

That's where 4:13-14 comes into play: "First off, you must not carry on over [the dead] like people who have nothing to look forward to, as if the grave were the last word. Since Jesus died and broke loose from the grave, God will most certainly bring back to life those who died in Jesus."

It's as simple as that: Jesus has the last word, not the grave. Not even Satan. But yet, death is still one of our most horrible fears. It's a weird contradiction we carry around as humans and Christians but I suppose contradiction is par for the course really. I know, however, that I'm thankful every time I hear these reminders.