Life After Death

Her fingers were soft and bony at the same time.
As I fought back tears, she patted my hand... reassuring me instead.

How strange, I thought, that she should be comforting me instead when she is the one in pain.


Death has a different flavour when it comes slowly.

When death came suddenly, we reacted with equal force.
We raised our fists to the sky in indignation and anger, only to fall into heavenly arms in defeat and surrender.

Life, in turn, had to be fought for.
Thickly, as if underwater, we carried on with our daily rituals, looking for reasons to live on.


I found myself loving life with gusto.
Resolute that no matter how tough the going got, I would always find a way to live life passionately and fully.
Because we never know when life may be cut short.
Death is just a part of life - we all die in the end.

But another part of life... is disease.
Youth is so often taken for granted - not just because we seem to have boundless amounts energy and optimism for the future, but also because our bodies have not begun to break down yet.

We make silly choices and develop hazardous habits that often takes a toll on our bodies when we are much older.

By then, it is too late to say, "Oh, I really shouldn't have done that."
Instead, we must deal with the consequences of those poor choices.

This is but a fact of life.



But my grandma has always been strong.
Strong-minded, strong-willed, and always bustling in the kitchen.
I remember the big difference in her character when she accepted God somewhere in my teenage years.
Her life, as far as I remember, has been one of service to others.
So I know how hard it is for her to be sick - waiting for death to finally come for her.
Not able to cook for others or wash the dishes.
Instead, having to depend on the love and kindness of the people around her.
It must be hard for her.
It is already infinitely hard for the people who love her to see her like this.


And as I held my grandma's hand, and watched my mother cry because grandma was suffering, a thought flew through my mind:

The wages of sin... is death?
Perhaps not immediately...
Because at this point, I think that death might be a welcome relief to this disease.
Maybe in this case, the wages of sin is pain and suffering, and any imperfection of life.




The last weekend of our Sydney trip, we visited the local Adventist church.
And as I sat quietly (albeit uncharacteristically silently) listening to their Sabbath school lesson... they briefly talked about sin.


What is sin?

Theologically there are many types of sin defined in the bible.
But the one that remains the most "personal" to me is the definition that sin is "falling short of the mark".
It is anything which separates us from God.

I've begun to taste the truth in this.
The consequences of sin can be seen in all aspects of life - for ALL have sinned, and fallen short of the glory of God.
These consequences include:
- broken relationships with our fellow man.
- the slow but sure degeneration of our bodies which lead to either disease, or death, or both.


Watching my grandma suffer physical pain as cancer slowly takes over her body, and then the emotional pain her loved ones go through as well - her childrens' eyes grow sad and cold with grief over her suffering... I understood.

This is the promise - the wonderful gift that God has given to us, made possible by His Son.
That there IS a world with none of this - a world with no sin - where we are no longer separated from the Life-Giver. Where the imperfections of this world that plague us, will be no more.
Neither death, nor disease, nor emotional suffering.



This morning, I awoke to the news that Michael Jackson had died.
Funny, because through a thick haze of sleep, my immediate reaction was one of shock but compassion:
Good for him, I thought, because he surely was not happy living his life here on earth.
His suffering has now come to an end.

Many say that MJ was "wacko".
But I think he was merely a person who believed in the beauty and innocence of life, and that longing for perfection was what seemed so strange to the rest of a disbelieving world.
He could not live his life "normally" because he was one of the few people who had the heart of a child. He pursued perfection through all the wrong means possible, seeking healing by sinking into repression/denial, drugs to numb the pain...
In other words - when faced with the realities of life, imperfect in all its facets, he simply could not deal.
(Don't quote me - that's just my opinion!)




The issues of death and the imperfection of life... so real and so tangible to me, especially in the last few years, have only led me to think this:

We should appreciate every wonderfully unique moment that life presents us.
No two sunsets will ever look the same.
Even within the same sunset, each moment is a new work of art.

Yet, while living each moment, we should also plan for the next.
We must invest in our future - our old age.
Make good dietary and physical choices while we are young.
Form good habit on how to live life - whether they be physical habits or cognitive habits.
For we all get old, but God has given us wisdom on how to live healthily and fully.

Most importantly, we do not need to despair.
When death and disease and suffering comes our way.
For they are to be expected in a life separated from God.
We must hold our heads up high, and lift our voices in praise - for the Conqueror has overcome all that separates us....
...and one day, we shall meet our Hero -
The God who cries with us each time we face these trials in life.
The Saviour who has conquered death and has deemed us somehow worthy to live perfect lives one day.

We will finally live how we were meant to live - when our Creator made us in all perfection.

So pursue an authentic relationship with Christ.
Get to know your family.
Keep in touch with your friends.
Put to practice the wisdom given by the bible on how to live life well.






I wonder how my grandma will look like when I meet her in that perfection.
She must have been a beautiful young girl.

********

Lullaby for Grandma

Up where the stars are
the night wind blows soft.
Moon shines a lullaby
Magic aloft.

Sleep must come silently
to those who have waited long
for dreams to
rest on
the eyelids
that needed sleep to rest their soul.

Hands clasped together
Lips pursed so tight.
Eyes cast to Heaven,
Where are You tonight?

Do You hear all my prayers?
Every word lifted up
by Your own
Angels
who hold us
and never leave us all alone.

Up where the stars are
the night wind blows soft....

~S.21062009~