Making space for death

I don’t like death. I mean, who does like death though?

In Lent it is inevitable. Jesus is walking with us in the Lenten journey towards His death. And this makes me uncomfortable. Again, I know, I know, the cross is the point of the whole narrative of Christ and his mission and ministry on earth. But I just can’t shake being uncomfortable.

Death for me is pretty fresh with the passing of my Grandma Irene in January. Though her death was in so many ways welcome after a very challenging year and a half of health problems, it is just so permanent. My little human heart is so uncomfortable with the permanent nature of death.

On Wednesday I was putting Maggie to bed. The bedtime discussion began with the usual stuff. Crocodiles, dinosaurs and how she is going to marry Vinny (or Uncle Pierre or Uncle Bryce). Then she started asking questions about death and my heart took a dive into my stomach. She was asking things like “Mom, am I going to die?” I explained yes, she would die one day. We all get older and eventually we die. I spoke about Grandma Irene and how she was a little girl who grew up and got married. Then she had 4 kids with Grandpa. They had a whole life together. Then she had a life with Jake. And she got older and knew she had a very full, beautiful life. And she was ready to die when the time came.

I know I glossed over a lot. Like my Grandpa and Uncle’s tragic death. Or Jake passing away in 2014. But a little 4 year old, and more accurately her mom, can only handle so much.

Some of it landed well, but she was pretty wary of aging (aren’t we all). She was saying things like “I don’t want to get older. I want to stay little. Right now I’m a little girl and I’m not getting older and I don’t want to die.”

But then came the kicker. “Mom, are you going to die one day?”

“Yes my girl. One day Mama will die,” I replied. It was devastating for me to face that.

Then her voice broke a bit. “And Pops too?”

“Yes my girl.” 

Then Maggie began to cry and say “But I’m going to miss you.”

I gave her a huge weepy hug and she squeezed me back so tightly. It was a perfect, devastating, grace filled moment. I kept wondering ‘how on earth did I get here?’ It felt like moments ago I was spending month after month aching to be pregnant. And here we were talking about death together. A conversation I didn’t feel equipped for.

We got through it and I kept assuring her she didn’t need to worry about dying right now.

Then she said “I want to talk to God, OK Mom!” She looked up to heaven and put her hands in a praying fold and said “God, can you make it so that I don’t die. Is that OK?” Then she looked at me and confidently said “God said that I don’t have to die and I’m going to figure it out tomorrow.”

Oh the faith of little nearly 4 year old girl. It will break your heart wide open. To ask with such confidence. To be so assured that God has listened. To know she still probably has to make a plan. Her mama was dumbfounded in that moment. I don’t remember what I said to assure her, but I am assured that in that moment she needed her Heavenly Father more than me.

I haven’t known how to feel about this moment since it happened. This Lenten journey and the created world itself feels cruel when we face death.

Take for example Moses. Moses cooperated with God to set God’s people free from slavery. God gives Moses incredible responsibility. Then the hearts of God’s people turn cold and they are forced to wander into the desert for 40 years. As a result Moses dies in the desert (I know I glossed over a lot there too, but you get the gist). This feels so harsh, his lifeless body buried in the desert after a life serving God.

But we do see Moses again in the New Testament at the Transfiguration beside Jesus Himself in all His glory.

Robbie has been delving into this story lately. When we were in counselling this week when it came up. Robbie was expressing how he feels uncomfortable with Moses dying in the desert. That it feels unfair.

Our counselor said “Why don’t you take some time and ask the transfigured Moses how he feels that he didn’t get into the promised land. And what did it mean to him that he got to be a part of the legacy of God?”

I think it is appropriate to say ‘mic drop.’

Isn’t this how we should remember Moses? Transfigured in light. Aware of the whole story even beyond his death. Aware of his weaknesses and choices that prevented him from entering the promised land of earth, yet so clearly rewarded with eternal life.

I am walking this Lent with Jesus who is going to be crucified. I hate that. I am in the desert. But it is ultimately my choice if I choose to walk through Good Friday with Christ immersed in the story, making space for it to permeate my heart or to suffer impatiently through Lent and conveniently hop over to Easter Sunday.

The challenge for me is to wait patiently with Jesus through this season while still believing in His resurrection. To believe that the most complete story of Moses is found in the Transfiguration, not in his earthly death.

This is the story I hope to teach to Maggie and Rémi. That death does not have the final say, even the death of God.

I want to be clear that this peaceful confidence is a struggle for me. My heart resists living like this is true. Yet even in my hesitation, He is with me. Walking with me every step of the way through these 40 days and nights. Showing me the way, leading me to His death at the cross and making space in my heart to believe in the greatest miracle to come.