When I was six years old, I watched a relative kill an animal which left a traumatic memory I still carry today. Even as a child, I couldn’t understand how someone could be so cruel or so callous. It impressed upon my heart a lesson that has never left me: death is terrible.
I still hunted, fished, and enjoyed eating meat, but I developed a deep appreciation for God’s creation. Around our house, my wife and I will gladly dispatch houseflies and spiders—they’ve worn out their welcome. Daddy long legs somehow get a pass. They never quite crossed into the “creepy” category. Beetles get gently escorted back outside. We feed the birds and keep a birdbath full for them. When one flies into our window and I find it lying in the grass, my heart sinks. If I accidentally step on a toad hidden beneath the mulch, I find myself apologizing—to the toad, to God, and to anyone else within earshot.
As I write this, we’re on vacation in South Carolina. Two nights ago, our pet sitter called with heartbreaking news. Our guinea pig, Midnight, had begun having seizures and was barely responsive. Yesterday the veterinarian said he was critical and recommended euthanasia. Five states away, we had to give permission over the phone. We never got to hold him one last time or thank him for five and a half years of companionship. Guinea pig owners understand.
Death was never God’s design. It entered creation through sin, bringing corruption, sorrow, and separation. Every grave, every fallen bird, every beloved pet reminds us that something is terribly wrong with this world. But for those who know Christ, death does not have the final word. I cling to God’s promise that one day there will be no more tears, no more pain, and no more death. In His presence, life will reign forever, and death will never be welcome again.
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