Why are we scared of death?  For good reason!  It’s largely unknown.  Even the most hopeful and promising biblical passages which speak of Heaven remain somewhat vague (Rev 21).  In fact, Jesus spoke more about Hell in the Gospels than he ever did about Heaven.  And when he did speak of Heaven, he spoke in parallels and analogies, recognizing our nearsighted inability to peer into eternity (Jn 3:12).  But what if we’ve misunderstood death?  Would it be less scary? 

Jesus compared the grief his disciples would feel after his death to the pain of a woman in labor (Jn 16:21).  But he also remarked how quickly a mother’s pain transforms into pure delight the moment that little child is nestled in her arms.  And so it would be for Jesus’ followers when they were able to touch and see their King raised from the dead. And if Jesus is truly the first of all humans to be resurrected (1 Cor 15:20) than we know that our translations into our glorified bodies and conditions will not be unlike his.  I think this is what can give us a new perspective on death.In his book, Where Is God When It Hurts, Philip Yancey helps connect the dots of the parallels between our first birth into this world and our birth into the world to come—Heaven.  He writes… 

“Imagine birth from the perspective of the fetus.

Your world is dark, safe, secure.  You are bathed in a warm, cushioning liquid.  You do nothing for yourself.  You are fed automatically, and a murmuring heartbeat assures you that someone larger than you is meeting all your needs.  Life consists of simple waiting—you’re not sure what to wait for, but any change seems faraway and scary.  You encounter no sharp objects, not pain, no dangers.  A fine, serene existence.

One day you feel a tug.  The walls seem to press in.  Those soft padded walls are now pulsing wildly, crushing you downward.  Your body is bent double, your limbs twisted and wrenched.  You’re falling, upside down.  For the first time in your life, you feel pain.  You’re in a sea of roiling matter.  There is more pressure, almost too intense to bear.  Your head is squeezed flat, and you are pushed harder, harder into a dark tunnel.  Oh, the pain.  Noise.  More pressure.

You hurt all over.  You hear a groaning sound and an awful, sudden fear rushes in on you.  It is happening—your world is collapsing.  You’re sure it’s the end.  You see a piercing, blinking light.  Cold, rough hands grasp at you, pull you from the tunnel and told you upside down .  A painful slap.  Waaaahhhhh!

Congratulations, you have just been born.�

Could our physical deaths in this existence be like that?  Note many of us looks down the tunnel of time to the moment of our deaths with much anticipation.  The approach of the deaths of our bodies may include pressure, pain, darkness, loneliness…the unknown.  But beyond this present darkness lies a world that we never could have imagined bound within the confines of this world.  Remember the words of Paul, “However, as it is written, ‘No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind as conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.� (1 Cor 2:9)

I must admit that at times I’m scared of the thought of death approaching.  But I suppose I wouldn’t be normal if I weren’t even a bit apprehensive.  Yet, when I recalibrate my outlook to align with the portrait of reality that God is painting . . . what? . . . hope!

To peer through that stained and marred glass into our place in eternity, read 1 Cor. 15 & Rev 21.