I came away from that visit almost envying the patient who was facing certain death," said the Bible instructor of a visit she and the pastor had made to the hospital.
"He painted the beauty and glory of heaven so vividly," she continued. "And since death is a sleep he was able somehow to help her grasp the idea that as far as she was concerned it would be only a few hours, as it were, until she was looking into the face of her Saviour—in person!"
That pastor knew how to talk about death!
We do not carry the darkness out of a room in buckets. Darkness flees at the presence of light. But neither do we carry the light into the room in buckets. We turn on the floodlights, and the darkness is gone.
The room of the dying is indeed a dark room. Some of us shrink from entering. Its darkness is depressing. David called it "the valley of the shadow of death." But the Shepherd often walks there among His sheep. And we must follow Him there.
But what shall we say when we enter? What shall we say to the one who lies helpless and afraid of the future? Shall we tell him that his fears are correct? Or shall we paint them over? If we do tell him, shall we leave him with a fear as great as that which he felt before we came to his bedside?
How often we enter the sickroom with our buckets of light, our bits of cheer. But the darkness is still there. We have brought a ray of light, but only a ray of light in the darkness. And we have thought we could do no more than that. We have thought there was no floodlight for such an hour.
Peter speaks of prophecy as "a light that shineth in a dark place." There can be no darkness deeper than that of the shadow of death. And there can be no prophecy shedding a more glorious light than the one that says, "And they shall see his face."
How thrilled any of us are with the expectation of seeing a dear friend within a few hours. Such a prospect a few weeks or months away brings happiness. But such an experience only a few hours away—it just does something to our hearts!
What more glorious prospect than to see the Master, and to see Him within the next few hours!
We can be so mechanically meticulous about our understanding of the state of the dead that we lose all the ability to paint the beautiful sequel to the Christian's death—death "swallowed up in victory"—an ability that is a real art among some ministers who may actually have the wrong doctrine.
We have not forgotten the Bible teaching concerning the state of the dead. But if death is an unconscious sleep, then there is in death no consciousness of passing time. And the faithful one whose life ebbs away at this moment will, as if in a moment of time, find himself in the presence of Jesus. "And they shall see his face."
Is not this the floodlight for the valley? What is depressing in talking of seeing the Master face to face a few hours from now? For it will seem just that.
Peter writes of "a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day star arise in your hearts." Is it depressing to tell the sick that the day may dawn for him very soon, that he is about to look into the face of the Day-star?
The room of the dying need not be a dark place. And we need not be content with bringing in our buckets of light. The floodlight of His promise may so light the room, and light our hearts, that together we may rejoice in the glorious hope so soon and so wonderfully to be fulfilled.
"And they shall see his face."
B. G.
