You see, I operate within the context of all this life and death from a worldview that God is sovereign. He foreknows both the beginning and end of every life. He alone knows both when life will end and under what circumstances each life will come to its conclusion. This foreknowledge is true about every person, everywhere, throughout history. And as a pastor, I am privileged to see details of people’s lives; details that sometimes might otherwise be hidden, but may reveal an “ahhh!” understanding of why a person dies. For example, I might learn that a person who, despite all appearances being functional and without struggle, actually had a hidden life of alcoholism or addiction that explains an otherwise-surprising terminal sickness or disease. In these unfortunate circumstance, awareness of the mitigating factors helps bring those left behind some understanding or reconciliation to the graceless event of their loved one’s death.

However, more often than otherwise, there are no such hidden explanations. Every day, “good” people die. Cars that normally follow the laws and patterns of traffic unexpectedly have a tire blow out, causing it to swerve headlong into the opposing lane. Cancer strikes a person who is young, healthy, and full of promise. A person makes an unthinkable decision to end his own life, without offering adequate explanation of how or why that decision was determined (as if any explanation would be satisfactory). So, if you find yourself gobsmacked by the unexpected death of someone you love, and without clues that would help make sense out of the senseless loss of a life cut tragically short, don’t be surprised to find yourself in a Jacobian wrestling match with your own faith.

The implications of these types of senseless and often-irreconcilable death wakes me and unsettles me when I would otherwise be sleeping soundly. I pray and pray for the families left behind, asking God to give them the rest they need to have the strength to face each new day. I implore God to lavish comfort upon them with buffers the sharp edges of shock and insulates from the effects of the survivor’s traumas. And even as I do that, I find myself angry at the reality of evil that is in this world. We call this evil “sin,” for that’s what God calls it. But it is evil. “Evil” is the word thad lies below the reality that this world is terminally sin-sick and every death evidences this pandemic plight. It is because of evil that people die unexpectedly (even good people), causing mourning and uncertainty and sorrow and concern.

A rationalist will simply say that life and death are mere biological functions and any consternation over the details is unnecessary romanticism. In my experience, this claim tends to offer little relief to the skeptic. On the other hand, any person of faith (and not just Christian faith) realizes that life and death are much more than chemical processes resulting from eons of chance, change, and survival of the fittest. Faith rooted in biblical claims proposes that we are all uniquely and wonderfully made in the eternal image of the Creator. God has determined that every life is precious, worth the redemption cost of his own son, Jesus. And for the person whose faith is in Jesus, life offers the promised fulfillment of that redemption with a reunion in heaven with God, forever.

Ultimately, it is this expectation that God does and will keep his promises regarding heaven and eternal life that gives the mourner the ability to hope evil will be overcome and that death is not the final event. This flame of faith may flicker in a trial’s gale wind, but is not extinguished because its source is the God of truth, holiness, and love. This is no pastoral platitude designed to help sorrow-filled, grief-stricken, loved ones find night’s slumber. God himself is the deeply-established harbor upon which our lives our tethered as the hurricane of grief passes over us. We, like all people, are shaken by evil, but because of the grace of God shown in the victory of Christ, we are not undone by it.

It is impossible to have answers to questions that were never promised to be revealed on this side of eternity. Inability to answer questions of “why?” and “what if?” leads some to depression and others toward its sibling anger. Releasing these imponderables to God doesn’t mean letting go, giving up, or not caring. It just means that whatever the situation–I can seek to understand, I can dare to comprehend–but even if I fail to accomplish either, I will continue to trust God.

The Bible defines faith as the substantiation of my expectations based upon evidence that cannot be seen. And while my faith is based on things invisible, it is also based solidly and consistently upon things experiential. Though I cannot “see” it, I have experienced God’s grace. I have experienced God’s goodness. I have experienced God’s faithfulness. I have experienced God’s compassion. I have experienced God’s trustworthiness. While life has offered ample disappointments and tragedies, God has never let me down. By faith, I expect that he will substantiate (or make real) my expectations that he will continue to show goodness, faithfulness, compassion, and trustworthiness to me…and more importantly to the individuals and families who mourn because God loves them all with a perfect love.

Every day, good people die. And despite their goodness (as we perceive it), life still comes to a close before anyone around them is ready. In this, I see that our goodness is not quantified in the amount of good we do, but it is qualified in the identity we have in God through faith in Christ. I hope that my life and your life will be megaphones that amplify goodness against the din of evil in this world. May our lives be worthy of the eventual death-time celebration because of the attention that our deaths brings to the God who both gave us live and also gives all life its meaning, purpose, and eternal continuance.

(this entry is a modified repost from the original blog, dated 08/19/2009)