I believe death is the most intimate of all things we will face in this life. Perhaps this is why it feels unnatural to watch someone be put to death, or see someone die in an accident or in the open. It is humiliating to the one who has died, an obscene intrusion of their privacy. Death was never meant for an audience.
Each of us meets this intimate experience differently. We are one of two people: the bystander or the one dying. Regardless of the perspective, death is intimate and personal.
I have walked alongside two people as they journeyed from this life into the next. Although I was not there as they left this world, for one loved one I was there mere moments before they passed. It was intimate – just my great-aunt and myself. This very strong-willed woman and I sat on the edge of her hospital bed and she laid her head on my shoulder as I prayed over her. She asked me to sing to her, something for which we both had a love. She had a beautiful voice in her younger years, and in these moments she longed to hear mine. Amazing Grace sung as a lullaby while I held her in my arms. When I was finished, like a child, I laid her down in bed, covered her up, and tucked her in. I kissed her on the forehead and told her I would see her again. I was told that she passed as I walked out the door. Intimate. Personal. Cherished. That was death with my great-aunt.
The other experience was different; a dear friend in her well-advanced years. Her decline had been slow, and the day had come. I received a phone call from her family inviting me to say goodbye. She was in her own home, on a sunny porch in a warm bed surrounded by loved ones. Although her awareness of this world was fading, she was cognizant of how uncomfortable she was. She asked to sit up and so I crawled behind her on my knees with pillows to cushion her. For a moment that gave her some comfort but it did not last and she became irritable. The many who were there, each one in their own way, tried to comfort her. It was noisy, sad, a little panic immersed in their loving words. The atmosphere was restless, as was my friend. Although surrounded by loved ones who wanted to be with her in her final moments, it was anything but intimate. I didn’t stay long. I felt like an intruder; not on this family’s time together but on my friend’s most intimate experience. She passed later that day and was finally home with her Saviour.
Of course I understand wanting to be with our loved ones when they pass away. I am sure that I will want to be with those closest to me when their time comes. Yet, as we walk alongside those whose death is imminent, I believe we must strong enough to provide the intimacy required, even if it means giving space, finding ourselves uncomfortable in the silence or remove ourselves from that experience.
When I think of death from this perspective, I am left humbled at what Jesus did on the cross. His death was by no means intimate in any way. He was beaten, His flesh ripped from His body; long Thorns shoved into his head. Forced to carry the cross on which He would hang, He bled profusely, weak from dehydration and blood loss, He would stumble and fall as people spit upon him and yell “Crucify Him!” He was then hung naked on a high cross at the top of a hill, surrounded mobs by people where His blood poured out, His lungs unable to exhale, slowly suffocating in pain.
This man did no wrong, not one sin in his 33 years of life. No Lie. No lust. No jealousy. No Envy. No unfaithfulness. No Pride. Not one wrong thing ever. He was sentenced to death before thousands, stripped naked, beaten, humiliated, insulted, left to hang through his final dying breath on public display. There was no intimacy whatsoever in this man’s death. And yet… and yet He chose to die, allowed Himself to die this way. Did you hear that? He chose this. He could have gotten out of it. He had every means to do so. The only thing holding Jesus to that cross was – not three nails – it was Himself; it was God In the Flesh. Why? Why would anyone choose this?
Love. He chose this humiliation and excruciating death out of great love for you. It was and always will be the ultimate sacrifice. A punishment meant for you and I, yet Jesus took it, serving our death sentence would be served, so that you and I – and every person before and after us – can spend eternity with Him.
When I stand before the cross this Good Friday, I stand humbled at Jesus’ sacrifice. I look up and force my eyes to see His death on a cross meant for me. I kneel with overwhelming gratitude knowing that no matter how intimate my journey from this life to the next may be, one day I will dance on streets of gold with my Saviour who suffered and died with humiliation because He loves me – and He loves you too.
Today, I invite you to get to know this Jesus. He is real. He lived, He died, and He came back to life on Easter. He did this for you and He wants to get to know you. Through prayer, reading the Bible or through someone who would like to help you get to know Him, Jesus is with you, waiting for you to reach out to Him. He will never leave you or forsake you. He loves you and you are the most important thing to Him right at this moment. His humiliating love is the greatest love you will ever know.
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