Death Is a Doorway

Contents

Introduction

Section I:

Examining Your Doorway

The Welcome Door

The Child’s Door

The Family Door

The Escape Door

The Hero’s Door

Section II:

The Problem of the Doorway

Near-Doorway Experiences

Looking Through the Doorway

The Joy of the Doorway

The Great Doorman

The Qualifications of the Doorman

Through the Doorway and Back Again

Introduction

Throughout my life, the shadow of death has loomed overhead in a way that has often bordered on the unbearable. Fearing the concept of dying and realizing its imminence for myself and those I love, the grave has been in my field of vision more clearly than for most during the formative years of life. In no way is this surprising. Serious medical concerns on my father’s side of the family and regular reminders from the pulpit of the brevity of life have both led to my fixation on the subject. Exacerbating the matter, in my twenties I pastored two churches where I was present at the graveside of many departed souls. In spite of having a firm foundation in my faith, for some reason the nagging possibility of the finality of life at death was always in my mind. Two things resulted from this.

First, I began studying the evidence for life after death and the truthfulness of Christianity. Dissecting every word of text I could locate on the subject, it became my hobby and obsession. My first book, Blinding Lights: The Glaring Evidences of the Christian Faith,[1] came together as a result of having ironed out the truths that had surfaced during those first few years of study. This produced a level of assurance that brought me closer to peace than I had ever been. Nevertheless, I trusted that there was more. Thus, I began studying what had been documented regarding those who had been very near death and survived. My hope was that there was something to glean from the experiences of individuals who had been to the edge of earthly life and lived to testify. From there I scoured the works of history’s great philosophers whose thoughts regarding death have continued to influence mankind. Happily, all of this demonstrated to me that not only is there life after death but Christianity is true.

The second step, which I took simultaneously, was an in-depth analysis of what scripture has to say regarding human demise. How comforting are the words of scripture? Do they offer any real solace for those of us who face death? What must be true of a man if he is to live forever? As I suspected, all of this is spelled out with great clarity in the pages of the Christian Bible. For believers throughout history, God’s word has greatly diminished fears of death, and it has graciously had the same effect for myself. My conclusion was that the nature of death is most appropriately represented as a doorway through which men and women pass. The evidence of scripture and the truths we experience throughout our lives both testify to such a fact.

This book represents both aspects of the journey upon which I embarked. For the first half of what you will read, I have examined the various types of death that occur from a biblical perspective and compared them to different concepts of doorways. It is my hope that however you presently view death’s door, these pages will develop in you a proper Christian view of dying. I want to be clear that during this section I am addressing those who are believers and those who are open to scriptural teaching about death. In the second half, I will lay out what I have found to be the best evidence from eyewitness testimony, philosophy, history and experience in favor of everlasting life. Drawing all these threads of truth together, we will conclude with a consideration of the only man who has ever conquered the grave and returned to throw open the doorway for the human race. For this reason, the book is really two separate studies in one volume. Section one resembles a work of Christian living whereas section two is an endeavor in Christian apologetics. There is a reason for this.

My desire is that, like myself, believers will find great comfort in the truths contained herein. Furthermore, they will notice that all of this has great potential to strengthen and affirm their faith so that they can face the end of their present experience on earth gracefully. I am also attempting to demonstrate to skeptics, particularly in the second section, that there is good reason to accept the belief in life after death and place their trust in Jesus. Thus, a word of caution is necessary.

For those who have accepted the offer of Jesus Christ to receive everlasting life, these words of peace, affirmation, victory, love and hope should represent the promise of a bright future. Conversely, for anyone who has not embraced him, these elements should be viewed as warnings of everlasting death. Sadly, many will pass through the doorway of condemnation and be separated from God’s presence. Finding yourself in such a predicament is reason enough to fall on your knees and commit yourself to him now by turning from your present way of life and committing what is left of it to trusting in the truth claims of Christianity. The doorway of condemnation is avoidable.

As you now begin the adventure that I started several years ago, I hope that you complete it as did I. How sad death seems to us. I can only imagine what has brought you to these pages. Perhaps you have recently lost a spouse, parent, child or friend. Unfortunately, you may be facing the looming potential of the grave in your own life. Untimely death may have befallen a loved one because of an accident, military service or suicide. Whatever the situation may be in which you find yourself, take heart, there is hope. Death is not the end. It is only an event, the sting of which will one day be removed. Let all the macabre emotions of old age, illness and deterioration fade. Life may be a vapor, but death is a doorway.

Section I:

Developing a Christian View of the Doorway

Examining Your Doorway

No one knows whether death may not be the greatest of all blessings.[2]

- Socrates

To die will be an awfully big adventure.[3]

- J.M. Barrie (Peter Pan)

Shock overwhelmed me! I was about to stand before our evening service at the church I pastored in middle Tennessee when I got the phone call. Having spent several hours preparing to impart knowledge of the Divine gleaned from scripture to a congregation of several hundred, I was about to engage in the sloppy and inadequate activity that is my brand of preaching. Nevertheless, inadequate as I am for the task, there is a reverence I have always held for the endeavor which compels me to spend hours in prayer, study and self reflection in an attempt to be somewhat ready for the job at hand. On this particular occasion I felt as close to God as an imperfect, naïve, under-educated and probably overly-confident young man could be. As though no speck of dirt or impurity had ever touched my being, physically or spiritually, I felt as any man or woman would after having genuinely spent time communing with God. If anyone had asked me in that moment, it would have been my honest reply that I was ready for anything. Then as I was about to enter the sanctuary, I received the telephone call that shattered that self-image as though a hammer had been thrown at a beautiful mirror.

The words came somber through the chunk of plastic in my hand. Your grandfather is dying. Unable to move, as if I had been bound by some invisible straitjacket, I stood there paralyzed with the exception of my face. All of the muscles therein began to relax and though I was unaware, my expression began to darken. The tone with which my father conveyed the simple announcement that would change my life did not come in a cheery tone. It was more like a low and lingering drone. Particularly the last word, dying. Clearly, from the occasion of the call it was not meant to describe, as I would have liked, some event that could happen in a few weeks or even a few days. This was happening now.

I’m on my way! was my reply. Wasting no time, I handed off my responsibilities to another staff member and raced out the door with my wife’s wrist in hand. I moved so hurriedly I was not even sure at first if the rest of her followed. On the drive I considered the reality of the situation. Then I heard the voice again, complete with that final menacing word, dying. It was not as though I had not witnessed death before.

Only a few days prior I found myself situated before the deteriorating image of a man riddled with cancer as he explained his desire for his own funeral services. My eyes had been sympathetic, and indeed I was moved by his plight. It is my confession, however, that I was more affected by the prospect that this might one day be the fate of myself. His situation, though real was somewhat clinical. It was cold and wooden as though the dying man were simply an expendable actor in the play of my life. I had no history with him. There was no emotional connection of which to speak. Member of my congregation he may have been, but he was never there. His illness saw to that. The dying man before me had not taken me swimming in the local swimming hole, bought me my first pellet gun, conveyed elderly wisdom or signed my ordination papers as my grandfather had. That made a difference.

Arriving at the hospital, my wife and I rushed into the building and my nostrils were filled with that unmistakable hospital odor. Even it was different now. No longer did the scent conjure thoughts of tasteless food, cleaning products and rubber gloves, but death. The elevator moved no slower than any elevator should, yet on this occasion it seemed the frames of time had frozen. We entered the hospital room to find an empty bed, still warm from my grandfather’s body. It was still warm from the circulation of life-giving blood. A male nurse entered and was the unlikely messenger of unwelcome news. Are you looking for Mr. Webb? he said. Yes, I replied. He just passed. Informing us of where we might find the rest of the family, he then disappeared around the corner.

Peering into the casket at the funeral, I had my last look at the body of my grandfather. He was gone. Gone. Gone? Where had he gone? No sign of him was left here. Was he waiting at the graveside for his body to be laid to rest? Of course not. I knew intellectually that he had gone where all the faithful go. Clarity on the matter comes no more easily than with the words of the apostle Paul when he says, To be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord.[4] Still, when confronted with the image of a hand that once held your own, eyes that once looked on you with love and a mouth that once spoke real words to you, it becomes shockingly evident that the person once known by you is