This is my first and final blog post of the week (which oddly seems to fit Sunday's sermon of the first being last and the last being first). I don't think this has ever happened before, but it was a necessity this week because of everything else I've had going on in my life. I can safely say the last seven days are not ones I would particularly care to repeat. Granted, there have been great moments -- my mom's birthday, getting things done I've needed to for a while, etc. -- but on the whole, this has been seven days of death.
I mean that literally, too. On Saturday evening, I had the graveside service of my cousin's unborn child, born and buried at fourteen weeks into her pregnancy. No amount of training, no manual, prepares you for that. Wednesday afternoon I assisted with the funeral of a great-aunt who lost the battle to Alzheimers exactly thirty days after her husband died of cancer. When I got home Wednesday evening following Bible study, I had a message on my phone offering condolences for the death of a friend. After checking things out, I discovered a girl I graduated high school with, and who had been in band with me, had been murdered by her husband, shot multiple times during an argument.
I could go on about any of them -- the baby, Aunt Ruth, Stephanie -- but the fact of it is, every one of us will die unless Christ comes back first. This is the truth of the Scripture: "It is appointed unto man once to die, and after this, the judgment" (Hebrews 9:27). Each of us will one day face death. Each of us will one day return to the ground that formed us. And after that, we will stand in judgment, a judgment which will determine our eternity based upon whether or not we confessed Christ as Savior in this life. For those who know Jesus, death is simply going home. For those who haven't confessed, it means opening your eyes in hell. Have you made that confession? Are you prepared to face death?
Maranatha; even so, come, Lord Jesus, come.