What is Death?
What is death? Is death an enemy or a friend? Is death a curse or a blessing? Is death a penalty and punishment, or a gift and gateway? Is death to be feared or welcomed? Is it possible, on the one hand, to hate death while, on the other hand, look forward to it?
These are questions I’ve been grappling with thanks to some things Tolkien says in The Silmarillion, his book narrating the backstory of Middle Earth. Tolkien wrestled with the nature of death throughout his life and writings. In The Silmarillion, for example, Tolkien says that death is “the Gift of men,” given by God and unable to be taken away. Unlike the Elves, Men are free to leave the world through death. Men exist in the world only as “Guests” or “Strangers.”[1]
In Tolkien’s mythology, after the fall, the evil Melkor corrupted death, making it something to be feared rather than hoped for. Tolkien writes, “But Melkor has cast his shadow upon (death), and confounded it with darkness, and brought forth evil out of good, and fear out of hope.”[2] Evil changed the attitude of Men toward death, from something to be welcomed to something to be feared.
Death is Punishment and Reward
Much more could be said about, not only Tolkien’s view, but about the nature of death in general. Suffice it to say for now that the Bible seems to suggest this dual nature of death. Death is indeed punishment for sin, as the Lord told Adam, “In the day that you eat of (the tree of the knowledge of good and evil) you will surely die” (Gen. 2:17). Or as the apostle Paul said, “The wages of sin is death” (Rom. 6:23).
But when Paul wrestles with the options of living or dying, he seems to prefer dying over living. He says to the Philippians, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account” (1:21-24).
Paul sees purpose in living because God gave him “fruitful labor” for the good of others (v. 22). But he also says dying is “gain” (v. 21) and would be “far better” (v. 23) than living. Dying for Paul was something he seemed to welcome because it took him to Christ.
Jesus said that those who obeyed him had a changed relationship with death. He says in John 8:51, “Truly, truly, I say to you, if anyone keeps my word, he will never see death.” Jesus didn’t say that that those who kept his word wouldn’t die, but that they wouldn’t “see death.” Meaning that when his followers die, they’ll go from life to life. Death will be like waking up out of a dream, “soaring to worlds unknown” as the hymn writer Augustus Toplady says.
How could Paul and Jesus say such things about death? Because, though they understood that death was an enemy and a penalty, they also understood that death was a door. They knew that death wasn’t the end but the beginning.
Jesus Rules over Death
If death is a door to life, who has the key? The Bible says that the key to the door is in Jesus’ hand, that Jesus is the only one who has the authority and ability to do anything about death.
In our text today, Luke 7:11-17, we’ll see that Jesus rules over death. The authority of Jesus’ word extends to the realm of the dead. Jesus is in charge of life and death. Among other reasons, God sent Jesus to demonstrate his victory over death.
Demonstrating that victory is what this text is about. In verses 11-12, we’ll meet death’s victims. In verses 13-15, we’ll meet the victor. And then in verses 16-17, we’ll see the victory.
The Victims
In verses 11-12, we meet the victims. This episode is a twin to the one before in verses 1-10, complimenting it. In the one, we meet a powerful man who has a dying servant. In the other, we meet a weak woman who has a dead son. The main theme of each story is Jesus’ authoritative word over life and death. Jesus came to minister to the powerful and the poor, and neither can be changed apart from his word.
After Jesus heals the centurion’s servant, he travels 25 miles south to the village of Nain. The story begins with two crowds: one following Jesus down from Capernaum with enthusiasm and joy, the other coming out of Nain with mourning and sorrow.
These two crowds meet at “the gate of the town” (v. 12). The city gate was the most important place in a town, the place where official business took place. It was at this decisive point that Jesus’ entourage meets a funeral procession.
Jesus and his followers run into a group of people carrying a dead man out of the city for burial. But, interestingly, most of the attention is on the dead man’s mother, not the dead man. He was “the only son of his mother, and she was a widow, and a large crowd…was with her” (v. 12).
There were two victims of the tragedy of death that day: the young man and his mom. He was a victim because he was dead. She was a victim because, not only did she feel like she was dying on the inside because of the loss of her son, but she was now all alone in the world.
Not only is she overcome by the kind of grief no parent ever wants to experience, the grief of a parent who has to bury their child, but her pain and fears are heightened because her dead son was her “only” son and she was a widow. This sweet lady had already buried her husband; now she’s on her way to bury her only son. The bitterness of this day was compounded by the fears racing through her mind about who would support her and protect her and take care of her. How would she make money to feed herself and keep a roof over her head? How would she make it in a male-dominated world without a husband or a son? Her future looked as dead as her son.
But little did she know that the one who holds the keys of death happened to walk into her town that day, at just the time she was going out to bury her son. An hour earlier or later and she would’ve been consigned to a life without a son, a life without anyone to fend for her. But the God of Israel decided to visit her town that day. And his visitation changed everything for her.
The Victor
In verses 13-15, we meet the victor. As I said, Luke draws our attention mostly to the mother, not the dead son. The reason is because that’s who Jesus’ attention was drawn to, “And when the Lord saw her” (v. 13). Jesus was traveling with a crowd and meets a crowd at a crowded place, the city gate. But the person he notices, the person who catches his eye, is this mother. Everyone else fades from his sight as his gaze finds this woman who was in a daze of emotion. All she could see was pain; all Jesus could see was her.
It says Jesus “had compassion on her,” or in the NIV, “his heart went out to her” (v. 13). Before Jesus did anything, he felt something. This is instructive for us. As we walk with hurting people, the first thing we need to do is to see them and enter into their pain. You might say that we need to be “feelers” before we’re “fixers.”
Because grief and pain often intimidate and overwhelm us, our knee-jerk reaction is to start talking about something similar we’ve gone through. As Nancy Guthrie wisely counsels in her book What Grieving People Wish You Knew about What Really Helps (and what really hurts), don’t do that.[3] It’s well-intentioned, but ultimately unhelpful. Hurting people don’t need to know about your hurts; they need you to see them. They don’t need to hear your stories, they need you to enter into their story. This is what Paul means when he tells us to “weep with those who weep” (Rom. 12:15). Our ministry to hurting people starts with compassion, not counsel. Jesus saw this woman and what he saw moved his heart to hurt for her.
This is all the more compelling when we notice that, for the first time in his Gospel, Luke uses the word “Lord” for Jesus (v. 13a). He’s pointing out that it wasn’t just some rabbi that this widow met at the city gate. She met someone who was a “ruler” or “master,” but not a ruler who wanted recognition for himself and had no concern for others. Jesus is a “Lord” who had compassion “on her.” This portrayal of Jesus reveals him as the God of Israel who promised to be close to the hurting: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:18; cf. Isa. 54:7-10).
As Lord, Jesus doesn’t resort to cliches like, “He’s in a better place” or “God will bring good out of this somehow.” This widow is facing intense sorrow and loss; cliches won’t help her. But what he does say is astounding, “Do not weep” (v. 13). How does this command not nullify what I said earlier about Jesus knowing how to delicately approach this widow in her pain? These words seem terribly out of place and don’t fit the occasion. As one commentator says, “To command a widow not to cry at the death of her young son is patently absurd; some people, after all, were paid to cry on such occasions.”[4]
Wouldn’t it have been extremely insensitive to say something like that in this moment? Not if you’re Jesus! His command isn’t insensitive because it’s preparing her for what he’s about to do next. As the pall bearers walk by, Jesus reaches out and touches the bier, or the wooden platform the dead man’s body was on. They stop and probably wonder why on earth a stranger would have the audacity to halt a funeral procession, especially at the point where the most people would be gathered, the city gate. Doesn’t this guy know that he’s in danger of defiling himself and making himself unclean if he touches this corpse? And who does he think he is telling this weeping widow to stop crying? No one was prepared for what happened next (v. 14b).
At the sound of these seven words, the dead man came back to life (v. 15a). Jesus didn’t command him to rise up from the stretcher; he commanded him to rise up from the dead. With his authoritative words, Jesus revoked death’s claim on him. Jesus showed everyone there that day that he rules death, that he’s the Victor and death is the vanquished, that at his word death can be undone.
The man started talking, proving that he was really alive. And then “Jesus gave him to his mother” (v. 15b). But didn’t he already belong to his mother? Yes, but Luke uses this phrase verbatim from the story of Elijah raising a widow’s son in 1 Kings 17:23 to show that Jesus is the new and better Elijah.
Giving him to his mother also links back to verses 12-13, showing us that this resurrection was just as much for the mother as for the son. It was a dramatic example of Jesus bringing good news to the poor and release to the captives (4:18).
The Victory
This miracle was for the mother and the son, but it couldn’t be contained by them. As verses 16-17 show, a wind of awe and praise blew through the crowds on the street that day. One writer called this “a funeral procession that became a street party.”[5]
The two crowds that witnessed this miracle declare that it was the work of God. In this resurrection, God visited his people. The God of Israel isn’t a distant God, but a God who visits, even intrudes into, his creation, in grace to raise up his people and give them new life. This visit from God was celebrated as the victory of God.
And this victory is a gift of grace for all people (v. 17). It’s not a reward for the exceptional and elite or holy, but a mercy for those who know they need it, for any who live under the shadow of death and all the despair and defeat that comes with it.
This miracle shows us that, in Jesus, God is back, sent to reclaim all that was lost in the Fall. It shows us that Jesus isn’t just a prophet from God, but a prophet who is God. This is why he has the authority and ability to raise the dead. And why he’ll later say that those who refuse to recognize that God has visited them in him will be lost (19:44). As I said last week, Jesus’ victory has to be received, not just known.
Another Dead Son
This story reminds us of another “only son” who was found dead outside the city gates. Some mourned his death, some cheered, many were indifferent and didn’t even know what was happening. But in Jesus’ death, God was destroying death and “the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil” (Heb. 2:14).
This miracle here in Luke 7 points us to Jesus’ defeat of death, preparing us for Jesus’ resurrection. What Jesus does for this young man, God will do for Jesus.
Why is this good news for us? Because, as one writer says, “Death’s door is always ajar.”[6] Until Jesus comes back, death will come for all of us. Death takes from us all those we love and then takes us from those who love us. Like an unstoppable freight train coming through the cold and dark night, it comes for us and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.
But in his grace and power, Jesus laid on the tracks for us and let death steamroll over him. And then after the train of death passed, he stood up, unscathed, and walked out into the light of day with nothing but nail marks in his hands and feet.
A Defeated Enemy
So is death an enemy or not? Yes, it is, but it’s a defeated enemy. This is why Paul taunts death in 1 Corinthians 15, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (v. 55).
Because of Jesus’ resurrection, death is a powerless enemy. But death seems to be winning all across the world, so how can Paul say it has no victory? Resurrection. Death is an enemy, but it’s a vanquished enemy because of Jesus’ resurrection, “But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (v. 57).
In a way that only Almighty God could orchestrate, Jesus not only kills death, but then he uses it for good. For the believer, death is what takes us to Jesus. The curse of death becomes the door into life.
“An Opportunity for Hope”
Tolkien’s view of death developed over time. At the end of his life, his view was that death is indeed a punishment but a punishment meant for the ultimate healing of the punished. As one Tolkien scholar says, “Whether death is a penalty or gift may depend on whether such a gift is accepted. Submission to the will of God transforms the curse of death into an opportunity for hope, while clinging to life in rebellion against God ends in despair.”[7]
How do you see death? Is it an “opportunity for hope”? Jesus died and rose so that you can rise after you die. Do you believe that?
[1]J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, ed. Christopher Tolkien (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2004), 29-30.
[2]Ibid., 30.
[3]Nancy Guthrie, What Grieving People Wish You Knew about What Really Helps (and What Really Hurts) (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2016).
[4]James R. Edwards, The Gospel according to Luke, The Pillar New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 215.
[5]Ibid., 213.
[6]David E. Garland, Luke, Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2011), 304.
[7]Austin M. Freeman, Tolkien Dogmatics: Theology through Mythology with the Maker of Middle-earth (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2022), 319.