The thing about Death is that he doesn’t have as much power as he thinks.
Death pounces, attacks our flesh, and he wins a lot. Death halts heartbeats and organs. Death defeats our bodies, our flesh.
But that’s it.
Death sees no victories over anything else. Unless you let him, that is.
Death delivers his horror and pain in different ways, at different times. Sometimes Death creeps for months. Other times Death is sudden and shocking. Sometimes we battle Death. Sometimes we surrender to him. Any way and any time he comes, Death leaves an emptiness and darkness inside of us that is as unbearable of a feeling as anything I’ve ever felt.
But, because I know the King, I know that I can keep Death from defeating anything beyond a body. I can deny Death access to my spirit, my faith, my love for others, my forgiveness, my warmth, my joy. I can look Death in the face and ask him the questions Paul once wrote: “Where, O Death, is your victory? Where, O Death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:15). And I can do this simply because Death won no other part of my brother but his body.
So we press on. We press on, despite the devastation, the darkness, the emptiness, the pain that we suffer through. And we press on because we can’t let Death win any more of us than the body he has defeated.
Death will come. It’s inevitable. But Death doesn’t have as much power as he thinks he does.