Death, Be Not Proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.  ~John Donne

We finish this week with heavy hearts brought low with news of death from around this world.  And the enemy of our souls would have us despair, thinking the end of laughter or even a religious presence in a country means the Beginning of the End of Everything.

Oh, it is not so.  Sin birthed in the garden and died on the cross and He lives and moves and breathes today as always and ever to bring us all to Him.

So laugh.  Seek it and find it and let it bubble up from your belly.  Worship, if only in your heart, and silent.  Hope beckons and Peace fills and Psalm 27:13, for goodness' sake.

And to set on repeat this weekend?  Audrey Assad's exquisite rendering of Donne's sonnet...

God be with you, friends.