Tired of Dying

Thank you for sleep last night, Lord. But I woke up tired. Tired of dying.

I went back over the last few years in my little church community. Helen, 18 months old, died... liver cancer. Rick, passed away, age 43 (he told me he wanted to do something daring for his 40th birthday; two days later he was diagnosed with leukemia). Susan, early 40's. She didn't want to leave all her children. Cancer had its way. John, early 40s, inoperable brain cancer... the world lost one of its premiere software developers. Tim, great architect, late 40s... and the year before he died of bladder cancer, he took me aside to say, "You should go to seminary, you've got the mind for it." Pete, 60s (I think), mowed the lawn and his heart gave out. Zulli, late 50s (?), taking care of so many children in this county. Lung cancer took her breath away, swift and furious.

I am


of all this dying,


Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. (Rev 20:14)

Yeah, I know.

Where, O death is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?
(1 Cor 15:55)

So I've heard.

But don't you get tired, Lord? Tired of all this dying?

Jesus began to weep. (John 11:35)

There, there... shh... shh... my Lord. Put your head on my shoulder. We can weep together. And I will tell you a story...

"And I heard a....voice from the throne saying...'and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more...'" (Rev 21:3,4)

It's a good story, isn't it, Lord. There now, let's sleep on that for a while. Together we can sleep, and dream.

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