Is the Day of Death Better than the Day of Birth?
September 30, 2008

The first time I read Ecclesiastes 7:1, I scratched my head, perplexed. Solomon, the wisest man of all time, wrote eleven words and only one had two syllables. He observed, "The day of death is better than the day of birth."

How could that be? I remember the birth of each of my three sons. I celebrated and dreamed of how full and fulfilling and rewarding their lives would be. Friends and family joined in the festivities too. Together we looked forward to a better future because these three boys had joined the human race.

Last week, my dear friend of 20 years died unexpectedly of cardiac arrest. Glenn and his wife Beckie had gone to Napa Valley to celebrate her birthday. After a romantic dinner they returned to their hotel. Beckie curled up in a chair to read a book--as she often did. Glenn sat on the edge of the bed to watch Fox News--as he often did.

Beckie heard Glenn make a guttural noise. She looked up and he was lying on his back on the bed. She rushed over and found he had no pulse and wasn't breathing. She called 911 and they told her how to administer CPR. Beckie was working on Glenn when the paramedics arrived. They were able to use a defibrillator to restore his heartbeat...but much time had passed and Glenn's brain had gone too long without oxygen. After lying in a coma for six days he slipped quietly into the Lord's presence.

And so the day of death had rudely arrived at my home. When I opened the door and saw death's skeletal face I recoiled in denial and pain. And then I reviewed the four days Glenn and I spent last June in New York City. I thanked God we hadn't put off the trip. I wept as I remembered all of the good times we had enjoyed in San Francisco, Oregon, and the California Coast. I remembered the practical jokes the two of us had pulled on too many unsuspecting people. I reflected on his beautiful and now alone wife, and son and two daughters. And then I considered my own wife and sons and how much I cherish them. I recalled my close friends and thanked God they still breathed.

But on that day of death I also considered the brevity of my own life. I reflected on two passages. Psalm 39:5 reminded me that, "You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man's life is but a breath." 1 Peter 2:24 said, "All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall..."

It was death that brought me to those two verses. And death that made me consider the paradox of Solomon's words in Ecclesiastes. And so I ask you: Could it be that the day of birth is filled with dreams and unrealistic hopes? And the day of death is filled with memories and reality about our own mortality? Could it be that the day of birth spurs us to call friends and family members to celebrate? And the day of death prompts us to call them and express our love. Could it be the day of death, unlike the day of birth, forces us to live each day as though it might be our last... because it just might be? Could these reasons explain Solomon's paradox?