Clickbait. Sorry.
But seriously — we are dying. I write this from home with a man flu, so death feels more imminent than ever (lol I’ll be fine… hopefully).
As I get older I am only more aware that my own experience will inevitably align itself more closely with the average human experience: one where death’s prominence in life only grows. For most of us in our modern, sanitised, city-bound Western society, we are strangely disconnected from the daily reality of death so prevalent for most humans throughout most of human history.
So I want to take a moment to survey how the New Testament treats the idea of death.
Death Is an Enemy, Not a Friend
The New Testament inherits the Hebrew imagination. Death is not typically presented as a welcome friend that liberates the soul from the body, nor is the Christian hope mainly described as people escaping earth for heaven. Rather, death is an enemy, a tragic intrusion into God’s good creation and the great leveller that eventually claims kings and peasants alike.
This is why Paul writes that “the last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Corinthians 15:26). Death does not complete God’s purposes. It is something God intends ultimately to defeat.
That perspective flows naturally from the Old Testament. The Hebrew Scriptures often speak of death in stark and earthy terms. The dead go down to Sheol, the realm of the dead, where work, praise and fellowship among the living have ceased (Psalm 6:5; Ecclesiastes 9:10). The emphasis is generally less on explaining what the dead are experiencing and more on the sad reality that life, relationship and vocation have been interrupted.
Against that backdrop, the resurrection of Jesus arrives not merely as comforting news for individuals, but as the announcement that death itself has been invaded and overcome.
The Language of Sleep
Notice how often the New Testament reaches for the language of sleep when speaking of those who have died. Jesus says of Jairus’ daughter, “The child is not dead but asleep” (Mark 5:39). Of Lazarus he tells his disciples, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up” (John 11:11). Paul likewise speaks of those who have “fallen asleep in Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:18).
The point is not that death is unreal or insignificant. Jesus himself weeps at Lazarus’ tomb (John 11:35). Christians are not called to minimise death or pretend it does not hurt. Rather, the metaphor of sleep points to its temporary character. Just as sleep is followed by waking, death will be followed by resurrection.
Neither Denial nor Despair
This is where Christian hope fundamentally differs from the alternatives available to us. Our culture often swings between denial and despair. Death is either ignored for as long as possible, or accepted as the final and complete annihilation of everything. The New Testament does neither. It looks directly at death’s ugliness while insisting that death does not get the final word.
Paul captures this beautifully when writing to grieving Christians:
“We do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” — 1 Thessalonians 4:13
Notice that he does not say, “Do not grieve.” Christians grieve. We bury our loved ones, shed tears and feel the weight of absence. What is different is that our grief is infused with hope.
That hope is not rooted in wishful thinking, personal optimism or a vague belief that everything will somehow work out. It is rooted in an event: the resurrection of Jesus.
Paul’s argument is wonderfully simple:
“For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.” — 1 Thessalonians 4:14
Firstfruits of a Harvest Still to Come
The future promised to Christ is the future promised to those who belong to him. His resurrection is not merely proof that some form of life continues after death. It is the beginning of God’s plan to renew creation and raise the dead. Christ has been raised as “the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:20). The firstfruits are the beginning of a harvest still to come.
And this pattern begins even now: to follow Jesus is to die to the self and to the world’s claims upon us, taking up our cross and sharing in his death so that we might also share in his life (Mark 8:34–35; Romans 6:4–8; Galatians 2:20).
The final Christian hope, then, is not escape from creation but resurrection within God’s renewed creation. The biblical story ends with heaven and earth united, God dwelling with humanity, and death abolished:
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death.” — Revelation 21:4
There remain mysteries about what lies between our death and resurrection; I won’t use this space to speculate for you, and the New Testament does not satisfy all our curiosity. But its central promise is clear: those who belong to Christ are not lost to him, and nothing, “neither death nor life,” can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:38–39).
A Defeated Enemy
Death remains painful. It remains an enemy. But it is a defeated enemy.
For those in Christ, death is no longer the final word on a human life. It has become a temporary interruption, awaiting the day when God completes what he began in the resurrection of Jesus.
And so Christians need not look away from death. We can acknowledge its reality, mourn its sting and still hold fast to hope. Not because death is small, but because Christ is risen.
So let me ask you: when death crosses your mind — a diagnosis, a funeral, a birthday that reminds you the number is climbing — which way do you instinctively swing? Denial, or despair? Or is there a third thing available to you?
“Death has been swallowed up in victory.”
“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”
In Christ,
Paul