When my dad died seven years ago, I made a conscious decision that I would not write about it. As someone who writes a lot and draws on life experiences for stories and reflections, this was part of my life that I did not want to work through publicly or—even worse—treat as just another anecdote for another article. Some things just seem too important to talk about, at least for a time.
So it was not until about a year ago, when I was writing a devotional book—Do Not Be Afraid, coming soon to an Adventist bookshop near you—and working my way through the Bible and its various “Do not be afraid” statements that I came to writing something that touched on this important part of my story and my family.
The moment came when I arrived at Romans 8:38 and Paul’s glorious pronouncement that “nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.”*
It was a verse that we had included on the plaque that marks my dad’s grave. As a long-time pastor and preacher, this had been one of his favourite verses, even writing his Master’s thesis on a portion of Romans 8. We read this passage at his funeral and then, as a family, we chose to place it on his grave marker—“Nothing can ever separate us from God’s love”—as a reminder of the faith he preached and perhaps as a witness to any passing visitors to the cemetery.
With this in mind, I went back to find a photo of my dad’s grave as I prepared to break my non-writing rule and reflect on his faith, our grief and the promise Paul had expressed of a love stronger than fear or death. And that’s when I noticed the mistake on the plaque on my dad’s grave.
One of the distinctive, although not unique, Seventh-day Adventist beliefs is that death is an unconscious end to existence, compared to more popular concepts that somehow the conscious souls of the dead continue to exist in some other form or place. Many of these beliefs suggest that our departed loved ones are looking down on us, watching our ongoing lives and perhaps even occasionally intervening or interceding on our behalf. By contrast, Bible verses, such as Ecclesiastes 9:5,6, say that “the dead know nothing. . . . They no longer play a part in anything here on earth.” Or we can reflect on Jesus’ description of Lazarus’ death as a kind of sleep (see John 11:11–14).
It’s only a small mistake, perhaps merely a typo, albeit cast in bronze—but the verse reference on my dad’s grave is wrong, rendered as Romans 8:32, rather than Romans 8:38. So I am glad of his unconscious rest, that as a student and preacher of the Bible who took those tasks seriously—and the father of an editor—he is not mildly but perpetually annoyed by this mistake on his own grave marker. And that he is not bothered by our other larger mistakes, sorrows and disappointments that are an inevitable part of our ongoing lives.
This understanding of death means that we can trust that he rests in peace. But it also insists that as unconscious as he is, my dad is not forgotten by God and that his death does not put him beyond the reach of God’s eternal love, as Romans 8:38 assures us.
Yes, I would love to show him my new book in which I finally wrote a short reflection on this response to his death—but perhaps one day I will, when we all defeat death together in the resurrecting power of God’s recreating love (see 1 Corinthians 15:51–55).
*Bible quotations are from the New Living Translation.
Nathan Brown is a book editor at Signs Publishing.
