“I visited a man on his death bed yesterday. I left confused.
This man had no relationship with Jesus, no interest in the gospel, yet no fear of death. His only desire was to ease his physical pain and die without a struggle. I couldn’t understand it. Really? No fear of death at all?
The first time I remember seeing a dead body was when I was eight. I was terrified! It was my stepmother’s body in a casket. My mother died giving birth to me, so this was the woman that I knew as mom. Seeing her lifeless body scared me. The whole concept of death confused me and gave me a sick feeling. There was nothing casual about it.
Seeing my dad in a casket four years later brought the same kind of fear and sobriety.
Forty years later, I still get deeply disturbed at funerals. Whenever I see a dead body, I inevitably think, That will be me soon. Then all sorts of uncomfortable thoughts follow.”
