I used to think about death when I had to courage to. It can’t be that bad I’d tell myself, EVERY person will die, and billions have already died. I wished mine wouldn’t be too painful or gory, slipping away while asleep sounded best. I tried to comfort myself that we probably just switch off for good, with no memory. The truth that I would never have admitted is that it terrified me. I side stepped the fear by trying to live for the moment, after all we never know when we’ll get hit by a bus, as the saying goes.
It’s been over a decade since I crashed to my knees on my bedroom floor and I gave my life to Jesus and instantly he took my baggage; weight I had no idea I carried lifted of my shoulders. Love saturated my heart. Peace. My desires started to change, behaviours that had once felt so natural to me repulsed me. Then three years ago I had the most incredible encounter with the Holy Spirit, my eyes were opened, my ears were opened and my heart was set on fire. I saw who I was, who I had been, and how Jesus sees me. The magnitude of what Jesus did for me, for ALL, at the cross hit me like a meteorite. I once lived wide eyed in utter darkness, stumbling around on the road to death but now the God of the turn around, the God of the impossible, the God who never leaves us or gives up on us, whose love for us displayed so clearly on the cross brought me from death to life.
“Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” John 11:25-26