Many of you followed my trip to Greece this past June. Beyond my incredible spiritual nourishment, I also experienced a profound dose of culture. So much of what we have today can be traced back to the Greeks—ethics, constitutional governance, philosophy, morals, and the path of the Apostle Paul's second missionary journey, whose steps I was retracing.
One aspect that stood out to me was the Greeks' intimate relationship with death. For every mortal, death is a door to the unknown. During our travels, we visited the cave of Persephone, where Hades is said to have taken her to the underworld. We saw statues created in the likeness of those who had passed, reflecting how the Greeks honored their dead. The experience was in stark contrast to our modern customs, where the deceased are quickly taken away, and we seldom see them after their final breath. But in ancient Greece, death was not a foreign visitor; it was as familiar as life itself.
For the Greeks, death was not hidden away but embraced as a natural part of the human journey. They washed, anointed, and prepared the bodies of their loved ones with care, underscoring a belief that both the body and the spirit deserved respect. Death rituals brought people together in shared reverence, transforming mourning into a communal experience. My pastor shared about the tradition of the bay window, a space where families could keep vigil over the deceased before burial. This closeness was not morbid but profoundly human. By accepting death as an integral part of life, the Greeks developed a heightened awareness of their own mortality, which in turn enhanced the richness of their daily lives.
Today, we often avoid death, preferring clinical detachment. Yet the wisdom of the Greeks reminds us that when we allow death to reclaim its place in the circle of life, we gain a fuller understanding of our existence. Embracing death can lead us to live with greater purpose, gratitude, and connection to life's rhythms.
October 15th holds a special significance for me, sitting as it does between my mother Gloria's passing on October 14th and my father Charles's on October 16th. Death is very much on my mind during this time of year. I was blessed to be with both my parents as they departed for their eternal home. In One Minute After You Die, Erwin Lutzer writes, "We have reason to believe that a person may see Christ in the twilight zone between life and death." The day before Gloria's heart stopped, she stretched her arms to the sky. I sensed an angelic presence near my father's hospice bed, even witnessing a curtain drawn back.
This hope is why believers can celebrate death. For those in Christ, death is a passageway to our eternal home—a place free of sorrow and pain. For those who have seen loved ones suffer, this promise is a profound comfort. Like my tour guide in Greece who illuminated the steps of Paul, our Savior, Jesus, has gone ahead (John 13:36) to prepare the way. Death rescues us to our eternal existence and reunites us with God, through whom we have gained our inheritance.
My parents died well, prepared for their final hour through a faith refined over the decades. They didn't just believe; they knew that Christ would lead them through the curtain. I look forward to seeing them again in heaven, where we will be fully conscious, retaining our personalities and knowledge. There, familial love will be pure, undefiled, and intensified. Though I still shed tears and miss them, each day brings me closer to an eternal reunion.
Another point from Lutzer's book comforts me. While it is forbidden to communicate with the dead—a practice that invites darkness—Dr. Lutzer suggests that since we can speak to God and those in heaven also speak to Him, He may relay our messages. Our Father loves us and eagerly awaits our arrival in glory.
While the Greeks honored death, we Christians can take it further and proclaim, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" (1 Corinthians 15:55). Death is no longer a punishment; it is the most tremendous transition of all.
