“Death is my roommate”

Tracy and I used to watch Modern Family reruns almost every night.

In one episode, one of the main characters, Phil, has a medical scare. He spends the episode obsessing over death (to great comedic effect).

In one scene, Phil finds Walt, the octogenarian widower who lives next door.

Phil asks: “Do you ever think about death, Walt?”

Walt looks at Phil and says: “I’m 85. Death is my roommate.”

The year 2020 gave me my first taste of what it feels like to be Walt. I imagine that what I felt this year is similar to what someone in his 80s feels. Friends are dying. Death is in the neighborhood and could come knocking at my door, too. All of life seems fragile, mortal.

A few weeks ago, one of the most beloved members of our church got COVID. He is now on a ventilator, fighting for his life while the prayers of thousands try to stop the cold wave from overtaking him.

To date, almost 350,000 Americans have died of COVID. Some forecasts estimate that 600,000 or more will die from COVID before Summer 2021. That would make the COVID pandemic second only to the Civil War (618,000 deaths) as the deadliest event in American history.

Those 600,000 COVID deaths are only the deaths we will attribute to COVID itself. Many more people will die in an “echo epidemic” of diseases that went untreated during COVID “spikes”, overdoses, and suicides.

Death is going to be our neighbor, if not our roommate, for a long time.

What do we do with this?

We have to learn to live with mortality breathing down our necks.

How?

The ancient Christian teacher, Apostle Paul, wrote about this in a letter to Christians who lived in the ancient city of Corinth.

He wrote:

“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies” (2 Corinthians 4:8-10).

Paul went on:

“So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).

Paul lived with a target on his back. Powerful people wanted him dead. He was not safe anywhere. Even though he managed to stay alive, he suffered harassment, homelessness, imprisonment, shipwreck, sickness, and torture.

Paul did not pretend that he wasn’t fragile, mortal. He would indeed say that “death is my roommate.”

But notice what Paul said about death in his letter to the Corinthian Christians. He said he carried in his body “the death of Jesus.”

What does that mean? To Paul, it meant that every human being who dies or is dying (and that is all of us) has an intimate link with Jesus. Jesus died first, so every human being who dies follows Jesus into death. You may not think that you have anything in common with Jesus, but Paul taught that you have at least one: death and dying.

This is what Paul meant when he wrote that he carried “the death of Jesus” in his body. Dying is communion with Jesus. Dying is following Jesus. Dying is something every human being does with Jesus.

No one who dies is alone; in dying, she is with Jesus who goes with her and leads her by the hand. He has passed this way before. He knows death well.

We may find comfort in choosing to believe that Jesus is dying with us, but Paul taught that we may also find joy in choosing to believe something else: Jesus died, but God raised him as the Christ. If we choose to carry the death of Jesus around in our bodies, we may choose to carry around the Christ’s resurrection life in us as well.

Death and life coexist in us through faith in Jesus Christ. We can be clear-eyed about death, because we carry the death of Jesus around in our bodies. But we can also grow up into joy and peace because the life of the Christ is rising in us every day that we believe.

“Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure…”

Grace and peace.