“How important is it for you to be there at that moment?”  It is a question I often ask when caregivers are worn with sleeplessness and grief, keeping vigil at the bedside of their beloved as he slips into eternity.  Being present at a death is never quite what we expect. And never as it is depicted in our stories.  Surreal, incomprehensible.  Nowhere is it clearer that death is an intruder and not just “part of the cycle of life” than at the deathbed.

The nurse or doctor comes and auscultates for the apical pulse for at least two minutes and then they pronounce our beloved’s death.  “I’m so sorry, He’s gone,” they say.  We have been preparing ourselves for months, weeks, days, hours.  We have seen him stop breathing and then gasp back to life.  “Gone?”  Surely there is something more we can do?  How do we know he is really gone?  Is there not some other definition of ‘dead’ that gives us hope?  Let’s wait a few minutes longer to say, “he’s gone.”

The pronouncement of a loved one’s death, declaring that they have succumbed to the “last enemy,” creates a vortex of physical, emotional, and spiritual revulsion and disbelief.  We really don’t know how to process it.  We think we do.  We think we will.  But when the intruder comes, it is shockingly disorienting.  When death is pronounced, however, much more is declared than merely the end of a person’s earthy life.  All our lives are also declared irrevocably changed.

Jesus’ death is pronounced repeatedly in the Gospel accounts.  The centurion at the foot of the cross, overseeing the execution squad, sees something he has never seen.  And declares the divine nature of Christ, “Surely this man is the Son of God.”  Pilate declares that Jesus is dead and so delivers the “corpse” to Joseph of Arimathea.  The soldiers declare him dead and so do not break his legs.  John declares him dead when he sees the blood and water at the thrust of the soldier’s spear. 

Jesus’ heavenly Father declares him dead as the darkness of judgment fades, the earth quakes, and the curtain in the Temple is torn from top to bottom.   And Jesus, does what none of us may do.  He pronounces his own death as we read. 

After this, Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfill the Scripture), “I thirst.” A jar full of sour wine stood there, so they put a sponge full of the sour wine on a hyssop branch and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the sour wine, he said, “It is finished,” and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. – John 19:28-29

He lays down his life. And he will take it up again. Jesus’ dying, death and burial pronounce much more than the absence of an apical pulse or breathing sounds. Jesus’ dying, death and burial declare hope to us that our lives may be irrevocably changed. That we may be delivered from death and find eternal life instead.

The pronouncement of Jesus’ death is a shocking declaration of life for us.  As John Owen wrote, it was “the death of death in the death of Christ.”   And the author of Hebrews taught.

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. – Hebrews 2:14-17

The pronouncements of Jesus’ death means life for you if you will accept it.  Join us this week as we examine Mark 15:33-47 and consider how the death of Christ offers life to dying men and women, boys and girls. We meet Sundays at 10:30 am on the square in Pottsville, Arkansas right next to historic Potts’ Inn for worship.  Get directions here or contact us for more info.  Or join our livestream on YouTube.