“Something has spoken to me in the night and told me that I shall die; I know not where. Saying: Death is to lose the earth you know for greater knowing; to lose the life you have, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth.” (“You Can’t Go Home Again,” by Thomas Wolfe)

I was about seven years old, I would think, based on where we lived at the time, when suddenly, one day, death became real to me. I cannot tell you what prompted the thought, but if the house were still standing, I could take you to within a few feet of where my mortality became real. I knew that one day I would die. I was not a stranger to death. With my dad being a minister, death and funerals were a common occurrence. Although I was just a child, I knew, “It is appointed unto man, once to die.” (Hebrews 9:27) But that day, it became personal.

While preparing for a sermon many years ago, I came across a quote, “I am half in love with easeful death.” (“Ode To A Nightingale,” by John Keats) I remember being critical of such an attitude. With the passing of time, I think I have a better understanding now of what the poet was trying to say than I did then. As a minister myself, I have seen my share of death. I have watched as disease ravaged a body and the suffering it inflicted. I remember oh so well the feelings I had years ago when I walked through one of the larger children’s hospitals in Atlanta. My heart was crushed to see the suffering those children were enduring. On the other end of the spectrum, sometimes, old age is not kind. There are times when death is a relief.

Like each of you, I have faced death on many different levels. From people I did not know to close family members. Death is different when it invades the family circle. I remember riding home after having spoken at my last grandparents’ funeral. It suddenly dawned on me that I was no longer a grandson. I was still a son, but the generation of my grandparents was forever gone. I was in the room with my brother, just me and Rickey, holding his hand, when he took his last breath. I was standing beside my mom, holding her hand, when she slipped away to meet Jesus. I have preached at many of my family’s funerals, including my granddaughter, who left us way too soon. Death is different when it steps into that inner circle.

I have stood with families as a loved one crossed over and felt an amazing presence of God. On one occasion, it was like the room lit up with the glory of God. When you experience something like that, you have a different perspective of death. I also have one memory of death that I would like to forget.

I read years ago that some medications used as a person approaches death are not only for the benefit of the patient, but for the medical staff as well. I have tried to locate that piece of research but have been unable to. I know my recollection is true, but since I cannot verify it, I would urge caution before stating that as fact. In his book, “Voices From The Edge Of Eternity,” John Myers shares eyewitness accounts of the last moments of people who are about to die. Some are glorious, while others are horrifying. Have you ever pondered what that day will be like for you?