“The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.”
This morning my lap was empty. For thirteen years, the world’s most obnoxious has sat on my lap while I did my morning Bible reading. He was through hours of text studies. He often laid across my arms as I tried to type my sermons. He was always there. Now he is not. The cancer progressed so fast. I couldn’t hold on to him any longer.
This is our fourth (or sixth, if you count chickens) dear pet we have lost in the past year. Three, including Zeus, lived good and full lives. Luna Lovegoose got sick and was dead two days later, before she could even see the vet. Each loss hurt.
I didn’t even want to go into the chicken yard for weeks after Luna died. I was just so sad. The yard felt so empty without her honking and flapping. After Homer passed, I remember sitting at the top of my of my stairs, sobbing. We went from three dogs to one in one week. With Lydia away at school and Katie at work, this big, normally bustling house felt so empty. I sobbed in sad self-pity. Last night, no stupid cat kneaded my bladder before laying on my chest. No nose tried to push my book aside. No paws stretched out for my chin. Against my will, the tears came.
I can’t quite get this to make sense. I have wept for loved ones. I have lost friends unexpectedly and tragically. I continue to pray often for a friends far away who have suffered losses I can’t even imagine. What right do I have to be so sad over my stupid cat, our beloved goose, my derpy hound, or my faithful Odysseus? They were just animals.
Yet, I know I am not alone. I have seen the hurt in many eyes over the loss of a pet. I have known some who have said they will never adopt another pet. It hurt them too much when they had to say goodbye. My wife won’t watch a movie or read a book if she knows the dog dies. How do I reconcile the sorrow over so small a loss with the hope and joy my God promises?
“The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.” Those words from 1 Corinthians 15 made me put down my Bible and pick up my writing tablet this morning. Of course, death hurts! Of course, death brings tears. Death is not supposed to be a part of life. My wonderful little companions die because of sin. Because of sin, I am powerless to keep them here. Sine corrupts and destroys all God has created good. Nothing I share my life, my heart, with will last. That truth hurts. The reality makes me weep. It should. This is not how God created us to live. The Lord wanted so much better.
This is why my God left the heavens to dwell in this world of sorry. This is why Jesus brought his compassion and hope wherever he traveled. This is why he endured the mockery, the beating, the torture even death and the grave. This is why he rose again. He came to restore all that sin had broken. So that we can say, “Death has been swallowed up in victory!”
The loss of a pet hurts in a different way because a living creature, a part of your life, is just gone. Zeus isn’t living in kitty heaven. He isn’t waiting for me there. A cat has no soul. He has already given all his life had to give. I have no promise that I will see them again, or that my pets will be there in my mansion in God’s presence. Although I know my sorrow in this life will only multiply my joy in the life to come, that doesn’t make it easier to bear the loss right now.
I do, however, have one more promise that I long to see fulfilled. Jesus says, “Behold! I am making all things new.” My hope doesn’t end in heaven. My hope is in the resurrection. My flesh will stand upon the earth. My eyes will see Gods new and perfected creation. In Christ, Paradise has been recovered. Paradise will be restored. I do not know exactly what eternal life in God’s good presence, on a perfect world will be like, but I know death will not be there. Will my dogs, my cats, my goose begiven back. God doesn’t say. But there, no good thing, no gift from God’s hand, no joy will ever be taken away.
“But thanks be to God, He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.
To God alone be glory.