How Pondering Death Fuels Our Faith

“The book scared me.” My eleven-year-old paces beside his bed. His blue eyes etched with worry.

This is the second time our evening read aloud book has stirred this fear. But I can’t blame the middle grade book at all. How it portrays death is kid-friendly and not a central theme.

My son is transitioning from childhood into adolescence, and it’s a bumpy ride. American poet Billy Collins captures this succinctly in his poem titled, “On Turning Ten.” Where once my sweet boy would be lost in a world of imagination, adventure, and creation, now he sees the shadows of a fallen world.

And my son isn’t the only one pondering death these days—so am I. Perhaps Collins should pen a poem about turning forty-one. Somehow life feels more fleeting than ever. And with the life expectancy for women in the United States at eighty, I’ve more or less lived half my life already—a sobering reality check.

When Death Is No More

We weren’t created to experience death, hence its weightiness. Death is unnatural and a part of the fallen world.

In the book of Revelation, Jesus brings about the final redemption of the world. One day Jesus will vanquish death, and the curse of sin will finally be undone—forever.

The apostle John confirms this truth in Revelation 21:4: “[God] will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Believers will experience what the Lord intended—no pain, no sadness, no injustice, no death, perfect communion with him—without end. Can we truly imagine the splendor ahead? Not fully. But oh, how we should anticipate this day when we can truly see and savor our King.

But reflecting on our mortality can be a healthy tool to fan the flame of our faith. The author of the book of Ecclesiastes puts it this way, “It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart” (7:2).

Laying Death to Heart

Pondering death can fuel our faith and help us lay the weightiness of our mortality to heart in two key ways.

One, pondering death redirects our focus to the eternal. In a request to the Lord, the psalmist writes, “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (Ps. 90:12). When we recognize our days are limited, our hearts turn toward the light of godly wisdom and what will last forever.

We gain a new perspective on how we’re spending our days. We examine what we’re doing and whether we need to make some adjustments to our priorities. We evaluate if our love for the Lord has become tainted by the world.

Cultivating a mindset toward what’s to come in eternity isn’t easy. So much calls for our attention—work meetings, bills, serving as a taxi to sports practices, volunteering for school events, social media. And yet, all these things—while not necessarily bad—are but temporary.

I desire to point others to God’s greatness through my writing. But when I reflect on eternity, I recognize if I spend more time pursuing ways to do this outside my family, local church, or community, I may miss opportunities to be faithful right in front me.

Part of my own adjustment in light of eternity involves everyday faithfulness to those God’s placed in my path today. The value of pouring into my family, local church, and community is a wiser spiritual investment than seeking those beyond my geographic realm of influence.

To make sure I’m consistently guiding my kids to pray for the world together. To be a part of sparking awe and prayer for God’s global greatness within my local church through the ways I serve. To look for outlets to shine the gospel into places overlooked within our county.

This doesn’t mean I stop writing. But it informs how I use this for God’s eternal purposes. Sometimes this means making time for a special writing project for my church rather than working on a book project or freelance job.

When the shadow of death looms in our thoughts, the beauty of life is illuminated like a field of fireflies during a Midwest summer night. It beckons us to pause and reflect. We are forced to slow down to catch glimpses of what is lovely, true, and just—things we may sometimes push to the side in the daily grind of life (Phil. 4:8).

We can determine if what we’re investing our time in leads toward the eternal or the temporal. We all have responsibilities in this world, but where does our treasure lie? Our hearts and days may require some realignment.

Two, pondering death spurs us toward deeper intimacy with Jesus. The psalmist directs our gaze to what truly matters: “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Ps. 73:25–26).

God uses contemplation about our end to pull us into his presence. The conversation following my son’s comment led to something beautiful—talking about Jesus and reading his eternal Word together. My eleven-year-old is growing in what it means to follow Christ—like all of us really—and struggles to keep a consistent daily time with the Lord.

And yet, my son suggested that he read a chapter from the Bible to me. And asked if we could do it again in the morning. When he prayed to the Lord, the words poured forth from his heart moved me to tears. God used my son’s fear about death to draw him—and me—closer to Jesus.

In the pursuit of getting things done and checking tasks off my to-do list, I can fail to connect with the Lord. I can lose the discipline of directing my heart toward Jesus throughout my day. I can find excuses for why I don’t bask in his presence.

But when I ponder the finiteness of my days, I’m drawn back to what matters most—Jesus. I’m propelled to carve out more moments to soak in God’s Word. To redirect my heart to pray on the way home from dropping kids off at school or at a stoplight. To take those extra moments to listen for the Lord’s voice before declaring my daily devotional time “done.”

Nothing satisfies our hearts like Jesus. Death awakens our hearts to the priceless treasure of a relationship with the Creator himself.

Standing in Awe of God

The realization that I’ve entered middle age directs my mind toward what’s always been true—our days on earth are short—but with a heightened sense that I’m hurtling ever closer toward it with no way to slow its progress.

But it has also forced me to contemplate my faith and life in new ways. I see this changing of life seasons as a gift from my Creator. My mortality is becoming a springboard to taste the Lord’s goodness in new ways.

God’s inviting me to step into wonder at the life I have today. To not rush past the beauty of now. To rekindle a childlike faith and sense of awe in my Creator.

Death is inevitable. But it doesn’t have to leave our hearts trembling. We can fix our gaze on the unchanging One. We can embrace the opportunity to reflect on eternity, keep pressing into our relationship with Jesus, and rejoice that greater things are yet to come.

Pondering death is an invitation to reignite our passion for our Savior and marvel at his greatness with unadulterated admiration.