Good Friday.

O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?
–Paul, 1 Corinthians 15:55

Long ago I read those words, stunned by their boldness. Quoting the prophets, Paul told how death no longer had victory. In Christ, death was swallowed up. I remember how I quickly agreed with what he said. Of course death had no victory! Of course death had no sting! What did I know about death at thirteen? Now that I’m a nurse, I still agree with Paul, but find the second part of those words harder to swallow. Does death lose its sting?

When I came to work Monday, I was given a reminder of that sting. During the morning shift, Anicette, one our babies, had passed away. I had never taken care of her, but many of the nurses had. Anicette was in our infant feeding program. This program helps malnourished infants receive the nutrition they need in order to get them to a healthy weight for their age. Following her from last outreach in Benin, the nurses knew her and her mother well. Having trouble digesting any of the formulas they had tried, it was thought she had a serious malabsorption disorder. When Anicette arrived on the ship, she was already quite sick. She had lost weight, despite her mother working with Mercy Ships over the last year. Several of the nurses had grown close to the mother and baby. Anicette slipped away in her mother’s arms around eleven in the morning. She was only fourteen months old.

During the shift prayer, there was a different feel. There was a stark reminder as to why Mercy Ships would always be needed. There was the cold truth of a young life lost in a ward surrounded by life changing surgeries, new bodies, and rebuilt spirits. In the back right corner of the ward, her body was behind a pulled curtain, still on her bed, awaiting her father to come take her and her mother home.

As the shift progressed, I watched as nurses came by to pay their respects to Anicette. Some would silently walk in and go behind the curtain. I did not even notice them except for the quiet prayer coming from their lips. A few of the nurses, as they stood there, remained silent. Others would stop by, go to her bed, and leave the room quickly, eyes wet with tears. An hour into the shift, I went behind the curtain. There she was. Wrapped in swaddling clothes, both eyes shut with a slight smile, she looked like any sleeping baby. A look of quiet peace was on her face, such a calm expression. As I stood there, I could not help but wait, subconsciously hoping for some sort of breath, some stir, some sign of life. But she remained still. I’ve seen older people die before, even family and friends, but this was different. How do you tell a mother who lost her baby death has no sting?

Continuing with my day, the shift went on smoothly. There was a couple new admits, but nothing pressing. All the sudden one of my patients began to have serious trouble breathing. Without disclosing patient information, she was quickly unstable. Within minutes we had all manner of doctors and nurses helping with my patient (they did an amazing job!). My Mercy Ships experience quickly felt like home again. On the unit I work on in Houston, we have many patients who are unstable, who end up going to the ICU in a similar manner. I was nervous. Being a telemetry nurse on a cardiac unit, I know my role in an emergency, but I still hate it when it happens. Seeing death come after my patients is always terrible. But in the same room that Anicette was lost? On the same day? After my shift ended, I went on the dock to walk for a while. I needed some distraction, time to go over events in my mind. As I walked, Paul’s words came to mind.

Throughout his ministry, Paul became well acquainted with death. Along with numerous attempts to his own life, he had many friends killed for their faith in Christ. It is not with ignorance that Paul says those words of defiance. Does death rule in the world we live in? Yes. Does it still have its sting? Of course. In Christ though, death loses its power. Death becomes of little significance. Paul goes far enough to say that, “we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved.“ (Romans 8:23-24) He even says how his, “desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.” (Philippians 1:23) Death may rule on earth, but it is not triumphant. Our victory over death was nailed to a cross two thousand years ago, on a rocky hill outside of Jerusalem.

When I started my shift on Tuesday, new life was on the ward. After shift prayer, one of the translators had pulled out the guitar. As he began to play, caregivers, patients and translators joined in song. Within minutes there were sounds of loud singing, shuffling feet, clapping hands, giggling children, beating drums, a strumming guitar, and behind it all the contagious spirit of joy and happiness. Instead of running to help with an emergency, nurses were coming from the hallway to join in the song and dance. Where the curtain had been now sat Yaovi, playing the guitar. In the same spot where I was standing the day before, watching my patient struggle to breath, sat a set of African drums, played by one of our other translators. The room was bursting with life. Standing in the front of the ward, I thought about the day before. Paul’s words came to mind again. In a place where death presented itself, where was it now? Though it had such a claim on A Ward yesterday, could I still see the sting?

Anicette dances in heaven with those who have passed before us. I like to think of my Grandpa Buie rocking her on his knee, singing to her gently as he did when I was little. Death separates us from those we love. As long as we live on earth, it will be present in our lives. It will come after our loved ones, our friends, and our patients. Every moment we are free from its grip, we thank our loving creator for the opportunity to enjoy it. With each chance to treasure life, in any way, shape or form, we have reason to be thankful. We relish every moment we have, for life can present itself in any way. And when death does come after us, we remember the cross. We remember a Savior, who knows what we’ve been through, who took on death in our place. To Christ be all glory!

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.
- Paul, Phillipians 1:21

In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. - Jesus Christ, John 16:33

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