The Alternative

This past week I attended two wakes. Both were for elderly women who had been active in my church until the advancing years turned them into shut-ins.

I had a routine eye exam the week before, and somehow the conversation turned to growing old. My optometrist said, "It's better than the alternative." My reply? "I don't mind the alternative." Then she said, "Oh, don't think that way." That was my cue to explain why I don't mind death, and I let the opportunity pass.

Here's what I should have said.

I do worry about losing my faculties and my independence, so I'm not looking forward to old age. On the other hand, I like my life and there are a lot of things I want to do before I die. I'm not seeking death.

But I'm also not afraid of it. God has promised that death is simply the entrance to heaven for those who believe in his Son, Jesus Christ.

And I'm one of them.

Only God knows what heaven looks like, and that's okay with me. I don't care if the gates are made of pearl and the streets are paved with gold. I don't even care if it's a physical place or only an experiential one. One thing I do know: in heaven we will be in constant communion with God, and nothing is better than that.

We won't all grow old.

But I don't mind the alternative.