April. Minnesota. Blizzard.
This is the possible reality you must choose to accept when living in the great state of Minnesota—piles of snow when children ought to be taking to the little league and softball fields. This possibility was realized the weekend of 14th and 15th, when a record-setting April blizzard hit the Midwest with snowfalls tallying between 15-22 inches in the Metro area of Minnesota. It was the wet, heavy stuff. Many churches cancelled Sunday worship opting for safety over sanctuary.
I spent several hours over the course of those days shoveling my driveway with my kids “helping.” At one point, a man gleefully Nordic-skied his way down our near-impassible street. The snow plows and their drivers toiled around the clock so citizens could venture out to stores to stock up. As I took another shovel-shift in our drive, two plows made their way into my neighborhood. With the drifts of the snow, it was a challenge to see where the road ended and buried lawns began. I watched, then, as one snow plow took out the DEAD END sign directly across from my driveway at the entrance to a cul-de-sac. Both plow drivers got out to survey the situation, literally head-scratching. The sign was lost, a casualty to the April Minnesota blizzard. The two men decided to move the sign further into my neighbor’s snow-covered property, climb back into their rigs, and carry on in heroic fashion.
I always enjoyed that DEAD END sign. It was quite weathered, the black lettering having faded to a dusty gray. It stood as a sentinel warning folks of the abrupt ending of the paved road in the cul-de-sac. But more than that, it served as a not-so-subtle reminder of where we all end—dead. And as a pastor called to name the truth of death in a death-defying culture, I was thankful for the help in our neighborhood. However, as the DEAD END sign lay in the snow, I knew I was now attending its funeral. I didn’t prepare a eulogy or sermon, but I mouthed a silent goodbye into the snow-slanted air.
I believe it was in 2005 when I attended a preaching conference and heard the acclaimed Rev. Dr. Thomas Long give an astounding lecture on death and funerals in the North American context. The lecture was a glimpse into his thoughts as he worked on his book, Accompany Them with Singing—The Christian Funeral, first published in 2009. In his lecture, I remember he told the story of a suburban neighborhood community somewhere in Colorado that petitioned the city to remove the DEAD END sign at their cul-de-sac because they found it offensive. They asked the city to replace it with the “less” offensive NO OUTLET sign. Tax payer dollars were spent, and the sign was switched. Turns out, the offense of death is too much to handle even if it simply refers to the ending of the road.
This story shared by Dr. Long bubbled up in my mind as I heaved dense snow onto the five-foot snow bank at the end of the driveway. I knew the offense of DEAD END signs has reached beyond Colorado; therefore, I prepared myself for a new sign that would greet our goings out every time our family left the home.
On Friday of that week—April 20—my dear grandmother Ann Ayres died. At the age of 89 and on hospice care, we knew the time was near. Family members kept constant vigil in the final days. We gathered to offer Ann our love, our blessings, our songs, our gentle touches, and our tears. The family testified to the love Ann shared with us in her living, and simultaneously we testified to the love of God revealed through her, beloved child held in the promise of Christ Jesus. We gave thanks to God for Ann, to be sure, but the sting of death still stung. We grieved and continue to grieve the death of our dear Ann.
Yet, death does not have the final word. As read at Ann’s funeral from John’s Gospel, “Jesus said, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die’” (John 11:25-26). Death will be the end of our living, but it will not be our end. Our end is in Christ Jesus who is the resurrection and the life! And as a Christian, I cannot talk about the power of resurrection without talking about the truth of death. In fact, resurrection cannot happen unless there is death. I refuse to use any euphemism for death: “passing away,” “completion of life,” “at rest,” “gone to a better place,” or the like. For me, it is “dead,” “dying,” or “death.” Because that is the truth. And that truth is conquered by the One who is the Truth, our resurrection and our life everlasting.
Sure enough, the NO OUTLET sign was erected a few weeks ago (pictured above). We wouldn’t want to offend anyone with words like “dead” or “end.” My kids noticed the change of verbiage, and I gave them a mini-sermon/tirade about the whole ordeal. They humored me and listened. But it was our nine-year-old neighbor and family friend, Skye, who said it best. The drifts of snow were gone, and I was now in the front lawn raking and getting the yard ready for the Spring’s late arrival. Skye peddled her pink bike up to our driveway, looked at the sign, and said, “The DEAD END sign is gone. What does NO OUTLET mean?” I chuckled to myself and responded, “That’s a good question, Skye. A very good question.”