It doesn’t seem to matter if you know the end is near. You can still be surprised by death. You can feel its weight on your chest when you open your eyes in the morning almost three weeks later and wonder how in the world it happened. Has the sun really risen and set seventeen times without her here to witness it?
“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.” (1 Thess. 4:13)
The other day I was rummaging through a kitchen cabinet looking for just the right sized dish to store some leftovers after dinner. My hand landed on a small glass dish with a green lid. In a moment, I was standing at a church Christmas party four years ago. I was newly diagnosed with a disease that caused me much pain. I was on a very restricted diet at the time, and gatherings that included food were challenging. I always left hungry. As I surveyed a table of food I couldn’t eat, Sue showed up to the party with a dessert just for me after researching my restrictions. Medjool dates dipped in extra dark chocolate. She brought them in the little dish with the green lid and sent the leftovers home with me. I’m not very good at returning dishes, it seems, and I stood in my kitchen holding the dish thinking of all the ways Sue has quietly noticed me, encouraged me, served me, loved me. How can the dish be here but she is not?
This morning, I stopped by the cemetery. I haven’t been since the burial. But in the middle of the night last night, I had a dream where I had just found out about her death, and I woke up choking on a chest-shuddering sob. At two o’clock this morning, it felt like losing Sue all over again. My brain tried to communicate with my heart—this is not new information—but the grief felt brand new again anyway.
“For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep.” (1 Thess. 4:14-15)
I parked a bit far from the gravesite to take advantage of the walk. It was a spectacularly beautiful day boasting a sky so blue it hurt my eyes. The cemetery leans into a city park with hills and ponds and large swaths of green grass. Her resting place is easy to find; it overlooks a small playground. She would have loved that. I stood next to the dirt, saw her picture on the temporary headstone. Wept. I miss you. I sat down in the grass next to her. There was a birthday party or family reunion or something going on in the pavilion just below the little hill she’s buried on. I could feel the eyes of strangers on me, but I sat down anyway. I know she isn’t there. And to be honest, I’ve never really understood why people visit cemeteries. The body is just a shell, after all. What made her who she was—her soul, her heart, her spirit—is with Jesus. Absent from body, present with Jesus. Yet, the body can’t be completely discounted. He’ll raise her up on the last day. He promised.
“For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first.” (1 Thess. 4:16)
When Jesus rose from the dead, He had a physical body that His disciples could touch. I’ve been thinking about that a lot since Sue’s death. Jesus told Thomas to put his hands where the spear and the nails had been (John 20:26-29). He was really Jesus, really back from the dead, really real. I can’t pretend to understand the complexity of a resurrected body. He didn’t even need a door to enter a room; He just appeared (John 20:19). I don’t know what is particular to Jesus that will or will not be applied to us one day. Yet, His invitation to Thomas to put his hands in His side—that’s real and tangible. I do know that our hope for resurrection hinges upon His. He has promised to return for us, has promised that “the dead in Christ will rise first” (1 Thess. 4:16). If He tarries, one day my own body will lie beneath the earth waiting for the signal, the moment when we’re all caught up together with Jesus. From that day forward, we’ll always be with Him. Always.
And so, I sat on the little hill at the cemetery next to a pile of recently turned earth, I sipped a cup of coffee like she and I always did together, and I hung all my sorrows on the fact that everything He has promised will be true.
“And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.” (1 Thess. 4:16b-17)
Writing these words has been harder than I thought. Grief is ever close to the surface, and I keep a box of tissues at my desk these days because every word feels hard and important. My five-year-old prayed for Sue at dinner the other night. “I hope she’s doing good in heaven, God,” he prayed. Gently, I told him he didn’t have to pray for her anymore because she’s now with the One we pray to. She’s one-hundred-percent okay. I could see the wheels turning in his little mind. If she’s in better shape than she’s ever been, why am I so sad all the time?
Because being on this side of things aches. It just aches.
It should ache. Death is the enemy.
And yet—
For the Christian, there’s always an “and yet—” and praise the Lord for the “and yet—”.
And yet—this isn’t the end.
We grieve with a tenacious thread of hope because, everything He has promised will be true. The last enemy to be destroyed is death, but oh, its demise is sure.
Therefore, encourage one another with these words.” (1 Thessalonians 4:18)
We grieve with a tenacious thread of hope because, everything He has promised will be true. The last enemy to be destroyed is death, but oh, its demise is sure. Share on X
Photo by Martin Cormier on Unsplash
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.