Abba,
Death strikes again…
Once more we are reminded of the brokenness of sin.
Once more we are reminded of the pain of our rebellion.
Our hearts lament…
Death, oh death, where is your sting?
The scriptures cry out
The question…
Intended to be rhetorical.
Intended to draw us to gaze upon victory
And yet…
Where is the sting?
It is here
It is now
It is present and cutting
Pain and sorrow flow
Loss and grief flare
And we acutely feel the heat of its blade.
The blood seems to flow freely
Resisting any attempt to be staunched
And just went scabs begin to hint at healing
Another rending tears asunder
An already vulnerable wound
It feels as though the wounds will never end.
Sorrow stacks upon sorrow
Loss upon loss
Heartache upon heartache
Never healing
Never regaining the strength and vitality
That once existed.
How long, Oh Lord, will death endure?
How long will You suffer it to remain?
How long, oh Giver of eternal life
Will You permit death to mar Your glory?
How long, oh Eternal One
Will death be permitted to pillage and destroy?
In Your hand is the power to stop it all
In Your hand is the strength to prevail
Why then do You delay in declaring victory?
Why then do You wait while death pillages?
Why then do you suffer the gut punching pain
The heart rending sorrow
That death brings and leaves in its wake?
How long, Oh Creator of all, Giver of life
Will you permit our hearts to languor in death’s grip?
How long will You give death power and authority over us?
How long before enough is enough?
The sorrow and loss of this life rip at us
With the ferocious intensity of a rabid animal.
How long will such a weapon
Be permitted in the hands of our Adversary?
We bow our heads, tears streaming
A deep ache in our souls for that which is lost.
A wordless stupor engulfs
Cloaking with the heaviness of a weighed blanket
Such is the even present mass
That death and sorrow bring
Never truly rid of it
Forever affected and changed by it
And if permitted…
Debilitating
And Yet…
Even while the deep ache of loss pervades
Even while the grief of sorrow lingers
Even while the emptiness of loss attempts to consume
YET, we will hope.
Though death may rob us of that which is precious
Though death may yet still cut and sting
Death does not have the final word
Death does not deliver the final blow
The original intent of the question DEMANDS attention
Death, where is your sting?
The unspoken answer
The rhetorical nature of it answered by the context.
1 Corinthians 15:50–57 (ESV): Mystery and Victory
50 I tell you this, brothers: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. 51 Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, 52 in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. 53 For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. 54 When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:
“Death is swallowed up in victory.”
55 “O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?”
56 The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 57 But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Death is defeated.
Death’s power is removed.
Perishable puts in imperishable
Life reigns and overcomes
Life knocks death on it’s backside, bewildered and dazed.
Instead of Death being a final destination
Death becomes a doorway
Death’s sting is removed
For out of death, life marches triumphant
Death’s smug victory
Is wiped away in the face of life’s shining blaze.
Death, for us, Abba, as your children
Is a temporary wound
A minor scratch
An endurable annoyance
One we must endure
One we CAN endure
In light of the coming blaze of light and victory.
And so, though our hearts cry out in anguish,
In temporary sorrow and loss
Yet our hearts can and will rejoice
For hope still blossoms
In the wake of death’s war path
While sorrow clings with its tenacious grip
YET our hearts will rejoice
They will sing Your praises
They will trust Your graces
They will seize Your outstretched hand
And they will proceed with strength
For this death
These sorrows
They will be instruments for joy
Tools for glory
That will redeem the pain
And remake the grief
Into a tapestry of eternal delight.
Until the day this conversion is complete,
We cling
We grasp
We abide
We remain vitally connected
We trust
And we hope.
We wait, with confidence, for the approaching day
CERTAIN of its arrival
And Your peace settles our hearts
To endure the wait
However long it takes.
And in this hope
In this peace
In this confidence
We find rest
A Singular Passion 