I. Hate. Death.

Man, I hate death. Really. Completely. 

Like, if I were a superhero, death would be my arch enemy. I would wear all white and dye my hair platinum. Right now, in real life, I never ever wear black. It’s one way I stick it to the darkness.

I’m thinking of death tonight in light of the Zimmerman trial and what a mess that all is. My heart aches to think of a boy who died for no reason. And it aches to think of the man who will forever live with that blood on his hands and in his heart, the rest of his life stained crimson. 

I see people on Twitter or Facebook calling out for the death of one man to pay for the death of another and I weep at the math that expects addition from subtraction. 

I weep, too, when I see a boy’s death made small.

What is it about death that’s so conniving and convincing? He whispers into our collective ear, “Kill or be killed.” He convinces us that “freedom” by war, “justice” by lethal injection, and “choice” by abortion are values to uphold— to fight for. 

Jesus says, “I have come that they may have life.” He calls himself “the bread of life,” “eternal life” and simply “the life.”

Paul says, “The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” And do you know how death will ultimately be defeated? 

Death is defeated when all men who’ve ever lived live again in the ultimate resurrection. 

The opposite of death—the antidote to it—is life. Not more death. Our victory over death will only come in lives lived to the full, lives preoccupied with the giving of life, lived by the sustaining power of the bread of life who leads us into eternal life, eternal no-more-death.