The other night I watched Braveheart again. What struck me was not the battles, but the difference between the men and the rulers. The men were willing to give their lives for freedom. The rulers were willing to spend the lives of others to gain more power. One gave everything so others could live free. The other clung tightly to control. That contrast stayed with me.
Those men believed some things were worth more than staying alive. They understood their deaths could give others a future they would never see. Jesus described that kind of sacrifice plainly: “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).
That thought followed me into a more personal place, because death is no longer an idea to me. It is a reality I live with. I am old now, and I feel how close it is. I notice it in my body, in the slowing down, in the way time feels smaller. I no longer think in years the way I once did. I think in seasons.
Later, I watched another program where two older people spoke quietly about death. There was no fear in their voices, only honesty. They talked about preparation and acceptance. I saw myself in them. Death comes for all of us—slowly or suddenly—but when you reach a certain age, you stop pretending it is far away.
Death hurts the ones left behind. I know that. I have seen empty chairs and quiet rooms. I have watched families change when someone is gone. Nothing replaces a person who is no longer here. Loss is real, and it cuts deep.
It hurts because love was real. Something good is interrupted, not erased.
That is where faith speaks. Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in Me will live, even though they die” (John 11:25). Those words do not remove the pain, but they give it meaning. Death is no longer the end of the story. It is a crossing.
I do not walk toward death without fear. But I do walk toward it. And my hope is that when I meet it, I meet it with assurance—not because of who I am, but because of who God is.
I know this may be hard for my loved ones to read. Loss is always hardest for those who remain. I write this out of love, not sadness. I want them to know my heart is settled. I want them to remember that my life has been full, love has been real, and God has been faithful. This is not a message of fear or goodbye, but of peace and trust.
Death is for all of us. No one escapes it. It does not matter who we are, what we have done, or how long we live. Every life comes to the same moment. The only question is not whether we will die, but where our trust rests when that day comes.
Preparation for eternity is found in one place alone: trusting in God. Not good works. Not a good life. Not good intentions. Eternal life is not earned or achieved. It is given to those who place their faith fully in Him. Nothing else prepares us. Nothing else saves us.
D. L. Moody once said, “One day you will read in the papers that D. L. Moody is dead. Don’t you believe a word of it. At that moment I shall be more alive than I am now.” That is the confidence of a life placed fully in God’s hands.
That is why I do not ignore death, and I do not run from it. I walk toward it honestly, knowing this life will end. And I walk with peace, knowing that for those who trust in God alone, death is not the end.
It is the doorway into eternal life with Him.