Not all heart musings, especially for a born again believer in Jesus, are corrupted.

Fallen and imperfect in assimilation, yes, but not always sinful or evil at the root in some way. Never is this realisation more apparent than when one is unavoidably confronted with and forced to dwell on the stark reality of death, because even for unbelievers, it puts a kind of fear of God into us that has a kind of ‘sacred’ feel to it; you may note for example, that people instinctively refrain from ‘speaking ill of the dead’, even if that person was a known tyrant, or particularly obnoxious in some way. As death is a kind of judgement (the wages of sin), there is some recognition (by many of us) of the impact of holiness implementing itself righteously upon us, and that we are only lowly servants, and not masters.

It is written in the scriptures that death in others has a sharp, refining edge to it over us; from personal experience I can say that it’s a very sobering process for one to sift through over the course of time, as we contemplate our own mortality through it, and are obliged during life to consider that hard and unyielding reality, that applies to all people (mostly without exception; I think Elijah and Enoch are the only known genuine cases of someone avoiding death that have been recorded, that we know of).

I think most people instinctively know that death for human beings is not much of a good thing, as even some of the more sensitive souls in this world are mournful of even the death of an animal, especially that of a cherished pet. But I’ll wager that most of us know instinctively that human death is something else entirely, a whole new level, perhaps because of our self awareness and higher consciousness; or perhaps it’s because of us being able to have deep reciprocal relationships with each other. But whatever it is, death is like the merciless gavel knocking down upon a hard judgement sentence – it’s just so… utterly final. And, totally unquestionable. You can’t at all argue with it, you can only expect it to visit you one day to take you on to the other side, forever and ever.

Everything that any of us ever do is totally limited, not only in something like our physical ability or brain capacity, but in terms of a certain measured amount of time that we each have on earth, of which the finite sands start running as soon as we are conceived, and death begins it’s own process right at the beginning. I think there maybe a subconscious awareness of it all gnawing away in the background of our purposely oblivious lives, that whatever we do with ourselves during life, we need to do it quickly if we want to see it realised in actuality. For none of us are promised tomorrow, and deep down we all know that, however much we like to ignore it and hope it goes away.

Anyone who has ever seen a dead human body (and even some animal bodies) will (I’m certain) have the image branded onto their mind and be able to recall it almost exactly in their mind’s eye for the rest of their lives. I can vouch for it, for I have seen a couple of them in my life so far, the most recent being my dad’s body lying there lifeless on the floor of his office last June (2016), before the coroner’s ‘meat wagon’ came to finally take his physical mass away from us. Take a moment, if you are such a witness already of human death (it’s fairly rare in our culture in this day and age, to be fair), to pity those who must deal with their flashbacks of horrific war scenes, or maybe a bloody murder that happened close to them – even perhaps something like a suicide in the family, where they were the first to discover the body. It seems to be a total taboo (in western civilisation, at least) to ever be able to ever talk and release about anything like that to anyone (even those close to you) without fearing to upset, bore or depress someone else who probably (and usually) really doesn’t want to hear about it at all, regardless of your need to vent. And we as Christians know why they don’t want to, and it’s not at all about a lack of compassion; for talking about death in any form always brings home the hard hitting reality of the inevitable finality that catches up to us all, and most people are not AT ALL ready for it. The obvious response to death for most is to pretend it never really happens, or to simply trivialise it until it’s ‘inconsequential’. It is far safer to talk about the weather, of course.

Mankind will always fear the unknown, except for perhaps a few brave but reckless souls who try to conquer their fears by embracing them head-on. To do this, one must either be totally deceived about what happens to souls after death (for example; oblivion, reincarnation or universalism), or simply just suppress the rightful fear into a kind of blasé ignorance, that produces a spiritual form of ‘dutch courage’ in the way they live their lives whilst on earth. Extreme sportsmen and women have the latter outlook for sure, and possibly the former too; for to be quite honest, in my opinion it is not befitting for someone who truly loves and fears God to play around negligently with their precious lives, as they should know the Lord has His own plans for them, and they usually don’t include adrenaline junkie, cheap thrill highs (much of the thrill being the dancing on the knife edge of mortality, combined with a lack of total control of the situation and being at the mercy of ‘chance’) . Dancing with death becomes a reason to live for so many, which is a strange thing. But if they really understood the spiritual war, I’d wager they wouldn’t be so daring, unless called to be specifically, by the Lord.

All of this blog so far has hypocritically been my own type of postponing of what I actually wanted to discuss from the off, for the hurt of death travels deep and I won’t deny that it’s difficult to talk about. All this previous talk has lead up to me getting into real and honest questions I have, like ‘where did dad really go when he died?’, for surely what I saw that day of his body on this side of the grave was not what he is forever experiencing on the other side, even as we speak.

That is the main thing about death, is that for all it’s certainty, there is so much unknown about it, that it is impossible for us to really judge rightly or speculate effectively. I know that in myself, there dwells no good thing, and that the presence of the Spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ guiding me simply highlights that fact, leading me to complete dependence on Him for everything. As I stared at the cruel lip of death’s grip on dad’s lifeless bluing face, the blank lidded stare at the ceiling from his crystal azul eyes, I was aware that I was with just a shell, a carcass. Dad himself was truly no longer with us, and it was a very strange feeling to recognise it. If not here, then where? It did not stop me confessing to him that I loved him, and that I really will miss him in spite of our many differences in the past, but I really felt I was speaking to God more than dad, for I knew those ears were now as deaf as one speaking to the lump of meat we would cook for a Sunday lunch. For it’s a strange thing that once upon a time, they were both alive and able to create and change things; now there is only their legacy to remember, for that previous era has past unalterably. And that time looms ahead for me too, and in wisdom I must take it to heart and seek my Saviour whilst He still may be found.

From a human point of view, my dad had a good legacy; a wealthy businessman that loved his family and strove to conquer the many goals he had to better our lives and provide abundantly. A hard worker too. A clever and articulate man, especially with politics, of which he had a reasoned and (most of the time) balanced point of view. But what really counts, in God’s eyes? For surely, none of us are truly good from His perspective, however much we might deceive ourselves that we might be. He owes us nothing, yet we owe Him everything – including our very breath. Dad found this out in the most unexpected of ways, and it was a huge lesson for me, for honestly none of us saw it coming. He was even writing my sister’s wedding speech (the wedding was the next day, he always left things like that to the last minute) at the time, and from the way his writing suddenly became random and incoherent (I had to study it closely for I had to take what he had already written and make the wedding speech on his behalf), it was easy to see that death had started to grip him a few minutes before he hit the floor, never to get back up. In some ways it was a real blessing that he went without much pain, or suffering for months in a hospital bed; but I lament that I could not explain the gospel to him just once more, as he might have listened closer if he was humiliatingly stunted from his normal routine by being relegated to a hospital stay, having to contemplate his own mortality – perhaps for the first genuine time in his life. Too late.

‘And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?’ It is very clear to me personally, however unpalatable it is to others, that only those who truly know Jesus find eternal life. People die every day, in many varied ways, but we are to be ready for Him to come (either by death or rapture) at all times, and this means being clean in the heart. My purpose with these blogs is to reveal my own heart and lay it vulnerably at your feet, so that you the reader will be edified. God bless you!