Dying Well

We joke that we don’t want to pray for maturity, or God might give us suffering. There’s more than a little truth to this. The New Testament book Hebrews is a whole letter written to a group of believers who were being called to expose their faith at a time when this was like sticking your head out of a trench in World-War 1. Except, it was not for the purpose of spiritual growth, but to keep from abandoning faith entirely. No one was pushing them out of the trench; in fact, they could stay there, blend in with other Jews and enjoy the official Roman toleration of Judaism, and their possessions, their families, and their lives would not be at risk.

The writer coaxes them out in a dozen different ways: God disciplines through suffering those he loves (Heb 12:6); this is the time, the day when God is acting (Heb 3:13); faith which leads to suffering is a constant pattern among the heroes of the Old Testament (Heb 11); those heroes are watching, even now, and waiting at the heavenly city to which they have been called (Heb 12:22-23).

Near the end of this winsome letter he says, “Remember your leaders, those who spoke the word of God to you; consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith” (13:7). “Outcome” is ekbasin, which also means “the end of one’s life” (BDAG). In the words of Raymond Brown, rather than simply considering the way their leaders lived their lives,

...it is probably far more natural here to see in this statement a reference to the death of these leaders, possibly even by martyrdom. Even if they did not pay that supreme price, the very way in which they had passed from this life serenely and unafraid was a radiant example in a world terrified by death and an unknown future. Christians of this kind have an abiding influence; the readers are encouraged to imitate their faith.  

In the Victorian era it was common for Christians to contemplate those who had died well. They even collected into books the last words of believers. As health care has improved, though, dying well has become a lost art. In the culture at large, life is about self-actualization while collecting accomplishments and holdings, and death is the ultimate interruption to these pursuits. Talking about death is considered defeatist and depressing. Given our unprecedented control over the end of our lives, this generation does not simply succumb to death, it must often be willing to deliberately let go. When believers hang on, white-knuckled until the bitter end, we send a clear message that they have no peace with what comes next.

Thinking about this has given me a horrifying awareness of how limited our time is. Even if I don’t contract cancer or die in a car crash, my blood is circulated by the uninterrupted action of a muscle I don’t control, which is doomed to wear out. We struggle (and reasonably so) when someone dies an untimely death, but all death is untimely.

Belief in God’s existence is not enough (James 2:9). Do we also believe God loves us, and won’t fail us when we are so vulnerable we can’t even hang on to our lives? All of faith comes down to this: when you look back at your prayers and God’s answers, do you see someone who loves you, and is powerful to save?

If we want to die well, and if we want to be of any help to those around us who are dying, we must cultivate the discipline of recounting God’s faithfulness to us.

At the same time we should ask, was God was faithful to Jesus? If you can read the Gospels and see, standing behind Jesus in all his frustrations and travails and ultimately in his tortured death, a God who loves him, then you will be much closer to dying well.

“Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.” (1 Thess 4:13-14)