Of Death—and of Life – Sunday, April 01, 1945
Death means many things to many people: To one who has been long weary in well doing, it may mean blessed release—the sweet sorrow of parting, and without bitterness. To a doctor it may mean failure or the expected result of an uncontrollable cause. To the world in general, it is a natural process—something which we may all inevitably expect, and concerning which we should not, therefore, be too surprised, when it comes to us or to someone we know.
But to those we love—to families, friends, to beloved companions, death is an acute loss, a sorrow that softens only with time, and the memory of which is never erased completely. And when death comes near, either to us or to those we love, it strips from life all of its superficialities and puts us face to face with the real meaning of things as they are. It is then that we have an urgent awareness of what is worth while and what is not, what we can take with us and what we can’t, what really matters and what does not. There is no compromising of values when death comes, no temporizing.
It comes when it comes with inexorable finality so far as the present scene is concerned, and the prospect would be dismal, indeed—dark with the color of darkest despair—except for the reality of those events which Faster commemorates—except for the experience of Him who passed through death to life, and assured mankind of the continuance of life in the kingdom of our Father—a life which death can touch no more. And while those who grieve for the departed may not altogether silence their sorrow and their loneliness, they may know with surety that those whom death has taken, yet live; and that a renewal of cherished associations is part of the plan and purpose of God, our Father, in whose hands are the issues of life and of death.
To you who have lost those you love, take this comfort to your hearts this Easter Day: that if a man die he shall also rise again, and from this life there is no parting that may not look toward another meeting, in the Lord’s own time and place. Thus may the sorrows of this day grow dim, and the happiness we have known grow pale before the greater happiness of things to come. “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; … Believest thou this? … Yea, Lord: I believe.’.’ (John II 25-27.)
“The Spoken Word,” heard over Radio Station K S L and the nationwide Columbia Broadcasting System, from the Tabernacle, Temple Square, Salt Lake City, Sunday, Apr. 1, 1945. Copyright 1945.
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April 01, 1945
Broadcast Number 0,815