Death. I face it daily. In my work. In my ministry. It seems morbid to some. “How can you work in a funeral home?” they question. “What do you do there? Isn’t it depressing?” Depressing? Sometimes. Rewarding? Always.
The accolades spew forth, “You’re so strong. I don’t know how you do it. You are a blessing to so many." You are this and that and fill in the blank. Humbled, yes indeed.
In my life, death is never lacking. I see it every day. People – young and old, alike. Too many. Too young. In just the last two weeks, too many children. Too many babies. At least ten. Maybe more. Some born too soon, others gone too soon. It never gets easy.
I face death all day long. Every day I see death, I feel death, I know the pain death brings. I offer a gentle embrace to grieving mommy. I explain death to children who have to see their baby sibling in a casket. I pray boldly for them all.
It never gets easy. I never become immune. I cannot be desensitized. Yet, when I am weak, I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:10). I can do this job because it is He, my Jesus, who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13). Yes, I face death every day, so too, I boast in Christ (1 Corinthians 15:31). I work with all my heart for Him and no other (Colossians 3:23). He alone has equipped me by the comfort He has given (2 Corinthians 1:3-4). So yes, I share in the sufferings of many (2 Corinthians 1:7), but my HOPE is in HIM.