The Edge of the Grave

10 April 2020 - A Sprouting Seed

Sometimes the farthest horizon we can see is the edge of the grave. Or so it seems. Yesterday, I saw one small phrase in Ruth’s declaration of loyalty to Naomi that I had never really noticed before: “Where you die I will die; and there I will be buried” (Ruth 1:17). The grave was the most distant earthly landmark that Ruth could make out as she looked forward into her future – and, even so, she stepped out in faith.

This weekend we mark the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and this year the opportunity to identify with his burial is unique. Sorrow and suffering have always existed on an individual and even communal level. They will always exist until he returns. This, however, may be the first time in eighty years that an entire generation has been buried by an avalanche of suffering at one time and on a worldwide scale. The situation may not be as dreadful as the two world wars were (yet), but the scale of fear and pain and frustrated plans is unprecedented for almost everyone alive today.

I myself have felt buried in this crisis, even smothered to the point of being unable to express everything “dying” inside. The deepest pain is not the loss of the meaningless or material things of life, but rather the sense that even my best and noblest plans were swallowed by the earth. It is at this time that two verses in particular stand out to me:

First, Jesus told us this would happen: “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain” (John 12:24). Could it be that he is preparing a season of fruitfulness in my life that will surpass anything that would have happened in a time of peace and comfort? I believe this to be the truth, even if the situation goes from bad to worse.

Second, Jesus himself went through this same experience: “He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay” (Matthew 28:6). I am no Greek scholar, but I was fascinated to discover that the verb is in a passive tense here (“he has been raised”), and not the more active sense that most of us remember by heart (“he has risen”).

This is no small grammatical issue here, but rather a truth that applies to our lives today. Jesus placed himself into the hands of the Father while going to the grave (Luke 23:46), trusting that he would be raised up by the him. He paved the way in this path of faith, and he promises to raise us up himself on the last day (John 6:40). And that, my friends, is something we can celebrate this weekend – no matter how deep our grave feels in this fleeting moment.