Death used to wake me up at night. Not the typical grim reaper standing at the bedside kind of thing, rather, the stark realization that some day, no matter what, I had to die. I could put off mowing the lawn, doing taxes, just about anything---but someday, I was going to die.
This was before I was a man of faith. If you're familiar with my story, I had more than a few things that pursued me and when I finally laid them down on my knees that morning in April 2000, everything changed.
News broke yesterday about a beloved former TV anchor who is apparently in her final days on earth. Since then, I've witnessed a lot of social media talk about ''how sad this is'' and ''what a tragedy this is''. It is sad, it is a loss for the family---but she is bound for the most glorious place in existence and into the presence of God. She wins.
Let me say this right here, right now. Should I be run over by a truck on my bike commute, I want a celebration. I want laughter and hugs and high fives for where I am and what I've become. I accept the path that God has chosen for me and, frankly, am so glad that I have spent the last 9 years on the right side of God rather than the first 40 where I should have been a greasy spot on the road.
Melodie, I celebrate your life and your new life to come. I'm not sure if I will see you in 20 years or 20 minutes (which means I'd arrive first having died at breakfast). For some, funerals are awful events where we're confronted with a future we can't escape---while others are there out of respect and support---and the deep and wonderful realization that death is the passageway to eternity.
Can't sleep at night? I know what can fix that. Let me know how I can help.
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