The Fragility of our Mortal Life

I’m back at college now for my last term as a Student Minister.  Over the next two weeks we’re all studying a module called Death & Dying.  The dreadful puns have already begun and I’m too much of a Christian to repeat them; but actually, along with the jokes, they serve as a defence mechanism to what are some very strong emotions and reactions to our study, or at least they do so for me.

Yesterday we had a field trip to a local cemetery.  We were encouraged to walk around and read what was written on the gravestones and to think about any reactions we had.  One thing that struck me was that there were many stones for former University Professors with line after line about their academic achievement; and then right at the bottom something along the lines of ‘and his beloved wife…’  It was almost as if his wife was a mere footnote in his life rather than an integral part of it.  Another thing that struck a friend was that a former Bishop was buried there, and nearby there was a grave for a young child and another for a baby.  In the eyes of the world one was of great significance and one not; yet in the eyes of God both are equally loved and equally valued.  The same is true of the Professors and their wives.

Another thing that struck me in the cemetery was the impermanence of things.  Names from long ago that once evoked memories of living, loving, vital people are now just words.  Stones that once had a clear message about the deceased are now crumbling and overgrown.  Beneath the ground lie the remains of bodies that once walked and talked and lived and loved and maybe could not imagine a word they were not in.

Today we went on a field trip to the local crematorium.  We were given a great talk about how the place works and then shown behind the scenes and saw the furnaces where the deceased are cremated.  Last year I had a similar visit to a crematorium in another part of the country and was encouraged by the minister I was with to look through the spyhole at the remains of a body being cremated.  It was a sobering experience and the memory of it flooded back in force this afternoon.

Our lives are so precious and so terribly fragile.  We are mortal creatures who will not go on forever as we are.  If we are lucky we will wither and age and die after a long life.  If we are less fortunate our lives may be taken by accident of by disease.  Yesterday and today I was reminded with renewed force of my own personal mortality; of the fact that one day mourners will attend my funeral and it will be my dead body that will lie six feet beneath the earth or be reduced to ashes in a furnace.

And yet I am not downhearted or depressed.  It is sobering to be reminded of my own mortality, of course, but it is also liberating because I truly believe as a Christian that death is not the end but a glorious beginning.  I will physically die; but I will also be raised to glorious new life in Christ.

St Paul knew this truth and he wrote it down in his First letter to the Corinthians:

‘For the trumpet will sound and the dead will be raised imperishable and we will be changed.’ - 1 Cor 15:52 (NRSV), but read that whole chapter.

I will one day die and I am not looking forward to that day; yet I know that I will also be raised to new life, to the eternal life that was given me through the grace of God when I accepted Jesus as my Saviour and Lord!