This post contains heresy

Over spring break, I spent a few days with my close friend Zach. We had a fantastic time hanging around Omaha, and as always, we had some excellent conversations.

One of them in particular really got to the heart of everything we’ve been reading this semester – and perhaps it influences how I think about most things.

The truth is, I am offended by death.

I know, I know – that’s the wrong answer. I’ve always been taught that death isn’t something to be feared; after all, it’s lost its sting. And hey, before Jesus saved us from God, we deserved it anyways.

Maybe this is normal and maybe it isn’t, but those teachings have never comforted me. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more hypocritical than when I’ve reflected on the fact that I am a Christian who doesn’t want to die. I know many people who, at some point in their life, “struggled” with this lack of comfort, but many of them claim to have “gotten over it,” as if it was some sort of phase.

I’m not necessarily offended that we die just because, I’m particularly offended because it seems to put humanity into one of those “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” dilemmas.  If we die, the consequences are pretty obvious. Before considering the afterlife, the implications are that we cease to exist, and we are torn away from the people that we love most. That is, if they aren’t torn away from us first. But in this harsh reality, rich meaning is cultivated by the ephemeral nature of life.

On the other hand, even if we are saved and continue on existing in some afterlife, that existence is going to be altered. You can refer back to my post The Problem of Heaven for three reasons why this might not be that great. But the same problems as before seem to spring up. We might still cease to exist as the persons we are, and the people we love most might still be torn away from us – or worse – altered into other persons as well.

And even if we did not die at all, the problem of monotony would begin to loom on some eternal horizon. Could we find any meaning if we lived forever? Even Tolkien’s elves grew weary of Middle Earth after little time had passed. We’re only human, and we can’t sail westward when we’ve grown tired.

I don’t have any answers here. But I’m not content to just shrug my shoulders, either.