Everyone Dies. Not Everyone Will Live.

My uncle passed shortly after midday today, becoming the fifth among those who helped raise me now taken away by death. Three of his sisters yet remain, though one also walks beneath the affliction of cancer. First departed my grandmother, then my grandfather, afterward the eldest daughter, my aunt, then my father, and now today my uncle also hath gone.

What weighed most heavily upon my spirit was not merely the succession of deaths themselves, but the fearful consideration that they all passed, so far as the truth of God's word declares, outside the saving grace of God. I found myself pausing in silence, striving to comprehend the dreadful breadth of such a reality: beloved relatives passing onward into a Christless eternity. There are truths which the mind may confess doctrinally, yet when Providence sets them so near as of one’s own household, they strike the heart with altogether different force.

Yet even amidst these sorrowful meditations, I find reason to give thanks unto my gracious Father. Though I cannot honestly say my years beneath my earthly folks' care were easy or altogether pleasant, still it pleased God to ordain that very path for me. Through those hardships, those relationships, those wounds and providences, the Lord was quietly shaping the man I would become. None of those years lay outside His sovereign hand. And now, whatever peace I presently possess, whatever comfort, understanding, or hope hath taken root within me, I owe unto no man ultimately, but unto God alone. It is He who preserved me, the Father to the fatherless. He who guided me through dark and troubled years, and He who, in great mercy, granted rest unto my weary soul. Therefore let all praise return unto Him, whose providence is often severe, yet always wise.

And so, as I behold this precious treasure which the Lord hath so graciously placed into our hands, I cannot help but consider that every book and every tract represents a soul appointed by Providence to receive it. Each one is destined, under Heaven’s sovereign ordering, to cross paths with these words at the very hour ordained by God. Behind every person stands a soul with its own hidden history of sorrows, sins, mercies, and providences—not unlike mine own—which hath led it unto that singular moment beneath the eye of God. Whether they shall read or neglect what is given unto them, whether they believe now or in some future season appointed by grace, lies wholly beyond my power. Such matters remain shut up within the counsel of God alone. Mine is not the authority to save nor the right to condemn. I have been granted only this sacred privilege: to stand as a herald of the one true King and faithfully proclaim His message unto men.

For the Gospel proceeds not from the servant, but from the Sovereign Himself. The message is not born from the vassal, but from the great Suzerain whose authority rules over all souls. He alone quickens whom He will, hardens whom He will, and brings every man at last beneath the righteous judgment of His throne. Therefore the servant may labor with peace, knowing that the burden of outcome rests not upon his shoulders, but upon the perfect wisdom and decree of God.

How strange a thing death is. It is the great leveler of men, before which all earthly distinctions are made equal. The rich and the poor, the learned and the simple, the mighty and the weak alike descend unto the dust together. It strips away every earthly accomplishment that human beings spend their entire lives pursuing. All the pride of flesh, all worldly honor, all treasures gathered beneath the sun are silenced before the grave. 

Thus it is a foolish a thing to imagine that money paid unto a physician can add even a single moment to a life already measured by the hand of God. We shall not draw one breath more, neither shall the heart beat one beat beyond that number which Heaven hath already appointed. For every man’s days are numbered before they begin, and none can lengthen his appointed span by anxiety, wealth, or human will. Death comes neither too early nor too late, but precisely at the hour ordained by God.

The measure of life is not found chiefly in its duration, but in its devotion. What matters it if a man gain many years, yet waste them upon self, pride, and earthly pursuits that perish with time? Better a short life lived in the fear of God than a hundred years spent in rebellion and spiritual emptiness. The great question at the end of a man’s days is not merely, “How long did you live?” but rather, “How did you live before God?”

And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment:

Hebrews 9:27

Though death deals equally with all men outwardly, it divides them eternally inwardly. For unto one it is the doorway unto everlasting judgment, and unto another the entrance into everlasting rest. Thus death humbles every man, but it doth not receive every soul alike. Those who possess nothing but religion shrink back from it in fear, for their confidence rests upon false ground. Yet those who are truly in Christ often find within themselves a longing for that final passing, not because they despise life, but because they desire more perfectly the presence of the One whom their soul loveth.

For the natural man, death is the dreadful end of all that he counts as dear: the severing of earthly pleasures, ambitions, companions, and every fading comfort beneath the sun. But unto the redeemed, death is but the end of misery, corruption, and sin. It is the final putting off of the corrupt flesh and the entrance into everlasting rest with Christ.

To the unbelieving, death is the fearful beginning of unimaginable terrors, when the soul and all its secrets must stand uncovered before the holy judgment of God. Yet unto those redeemed by grace, it is the beginning of joys unspeakable and full of glory—the everlasting beholding of God, unmarred by sin, sorrow, or separation.

And herein shines the marvelous wisdom of God: that even death itself, that most dreadful enemy of man, He is able to transform into something beautiful for those whom He loveth. What was once the curse of the Fall becometh, through Christ, the promise of Resurrection. The grave itself hath been conquered by the risen Lord. Thus the redeemed Bride will hear his beloved Groom speak,

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Songs 2:10-13

For the religious and the fearful lose everything in the end. But for the redeemed in Christ, all is gain. There is never any loss.