How Many Times Must I Die?

by Tom Gilbert
Published November 4, 2004

Here’s something you don’t want to think about – dying.

Death is the natural outcome of life. Despite all we do to prolong our lives it is inevitable. Sooner or later all of us will face death. Everyone dies. No one knows for certain when death will come, but when we encounter it we are changed.

We are all touched by death. The resulting grief is real, traumatic and hard to process. Just days ago a friend called to tell me his brother died of a drug overdose. My daughter’s high school has had a few more suicides. Men, women and children are dying in Iraq and Sudan. Nature is unleashing her fury with hurricanes that barrel through Florida and have taken lives.

Everything dies. Not everything ends. Death is the doorway to new life. Of course, the harsh reality of a life ending often obscures this view. When a loved one passes we are shaken to our core. Our preoccupations with our agendas suddenly seem small. We are stopped in our tracks. We face the Great Reality.

All of life is a journey towards death…and letting go.

"I Woke Up This Morning to the Empty Sky"

As I write this I am listening to Bruce Springsteen’s “The Rising”, an album full of songs that echo the loss and grief many of us experienced that fateful day three years ago, September 11, 2001. Our reality was shaken by an unthinkable event. Hijacked airliners crashed into the World Trade Centers in New York City and the Pentagon in Washington D.C. One plane flight ended in a field in Pennsylvania. We all have vivid memories of that day when the lives of so many innocent people were extinguished in a few short hours.

Springsteen’s songs on this release are not full of condemnation or retribution. Mostly they deal with the loss: the empty apartment, the father who won’t return home, the firemen climbing the stairs into an inferno and the lonesome days that followed as a country mourned.

When death comes unexpectedly we are jolted by its cruelness. Our anger, denial and fear must come before any acceptance.

If we see death coming the specter may hover over us like a dark cloud, but the moments of closure when loved ones can gather around and make peace can profoundly change us for the better.

There can be regret when someone dies and we feel our chance to say goodbye is missed. My sister’s husband Rob died of Leukemia at 38. The end was painful and drawn out, but Rob bore it with the grace that only God can provide. While family members spent those last days with him in the hospital I was a thousand miles away. I missed the personal goodbye. Still, I know that somehow Rob and I connected…before and after. While I cried at the funeral I couldn’t shake the peace and joy that I knew he was (is) in.

Two years ago my wife lost both her grandmothers in the space of three days. They were special women who lived long and full lives. Their passing brought together a large gathering of family and friends. Their presence is still very much felt today.

Not Alone

One of the reasons I find Scripture whole and holy is precisely because it doesn’t shy away from the reality of death and grief. The story of Job, the tears of Lamentations, and the cries of the Psalms share life’s journey in its fullness. When death strikes and grief overwhelms us these stories bring comfort because the experience is shared. We are not alone in this.

Still, each of us must die our own death. We are all called to take up our cross. Life and death are experiential, not theory.

If we truly embrace the others in our lives – those we know and those we don’t – then each death will feel a bit like dying ourselves. And we will know loneliness, sadness and grief. And we will become freer.

The great mystery for us is that we must die before we die. “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” (John 12:24) Christ showed us in this statement that all of God’s creation exhibits this pattern. Birth, life, death…harvest.

My own journey has brought me through repeated dying. I have experienced the death of self-will and the death of misunderstanding, prejudice and legalism. This pattern, like the seasons, seems to regularly repeat itself.

How many times must I die? Physically — just once. On the spiritual path the experience may be continual. Everyday requires surrender. I’m finding that the journey is worth it and that abundant life is fertilized by my many small deaths.

At the end of this earthly life we can follow our Lord by releasing our earthly bonds, shaking off our mortal coil, and proclaiming as He did, “Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit!” (Luke 23:46)

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