Life Is In the Dash

I'm getting to the age where I guess I should start reading obituaries, as Mark Twain said, to see if reports of my death might be exaggerated. 

I've only written one formal obituary in my lifetime, for my father in April, 2000, but I've rewritten or adapted many, many more in my vocation as pastor. I usually begin a funeral sermon with an abbreviated obituary, stating date of birth, baptism, and confirmation, date of marriage, and perhaps something about their life of service to the church. I conclude with the date and location of death, with the summation of X years, X months, and X days. Finally, I solemnly intone, "Blessed are those who die in the Lord, from this time forth and forevermore." It's an all-too-brief synposis of a person's life. 

Some time later, the family will place a head- or foot-stone. On it, the obituary is condensed to a singular character that conjoins a date of birth and death. That character is a dash: --.

That simple keystroke is a life's summary, standing in place of everything the person did in life, from the first cry to the last breath. It represents hugs and kisses, learning to ride a bike and drive a stick shift, a first love's kiss and a broken heart. It is a reminder of great Christmas gifts given and received, of family dinners, and family squabbles - although there is disagremement about who started it and exactly what the fight was about. It silently speaks for children and grandchildren that were fed and changed, and of great-grandchildren who were never met. It recalls wedding anniversaries, professional accomplishments, home ownership, and surviving natural disasters when others weren't so lucky. It marks "I do's" and "I can't's" and "I won't's" and everything else in between birth and death. 

In short, that dash is where life was lived. It silently tells the story of one's life. Life is lived in the dash. 

"Dash" is a word with many meanings. It can be a noun or verb. It can mean, for example, a small amount, as in "a dash of salt." It can also be a quick race, as in a 100-yard dash. It can also be a sharp, violent act, as in "the waves dashed against the rocks." 

Although I used the word "dash" to describe the particular keystroke, it is fitting as well to use it in other ways when thinking of someone's life. No matter how long one's life is, it is always too short, a quick race, if you will. One's life is seasoned with dashes of this and dashes of that. Often, hopes and dreams have been dashed by events and circumstances. And, of course, dash can mean "to ruin or frustrate" - a most apropos deacription of what death does to life. 

For us as Christians, we know that is partially true. Yes, death does dash our life, this side of heaven. Thanks be to God, there is another dash, though, that gives life and immoraltality to life: the cross of Jesus. 

If you think of the cross as an intersected double dash, you aee what I mean:

As Christians, our entire life is redeemed by Jesus. From birth to death, we are holied by the life, death and resurrection of our Lord. He makes all of those moments whole and holy - both those which we want to remember and share, and those we pray are lost to the annals of time or, better yet, were never written in the first place. 

This, then, marks our identity not in what is remembered or forgotten but by who wr are in Christ. That dash, that keystroke separating life from death, is also the pledge that Christ separates death from life. He uses it - curse though it may be - to rescue us into eternity with Him. 

Today, my son-in-law's mother died after a seven year battle with cancer. Her name is Diane. He worked on her obituary today. I met her twice and knew her as a very, very faithful woman of God. I wish I knew her more, that I could fill in that dash at the top of the page with my own knowledge of her, her love of family, and her faithfulness to her Lord. I wish I knew stories of her as a young mother with her sons, of her side of those mischievious moments. I wish I heard her version of the first date with her husband and - as I understand it - a hysterical nap during The Nutcracker. I wish I could talk with her about trusting Jesus when the cancer was first found, then treated, then in remission, than to come back more aggressive than ever. I wish I could have heard her testimony of faith when facing the short end of that dash coming on her horizon. 

Unfortunately, she died today. The dash has now been placed on paper, surrounded by two very important days, combined noting sixty-six years, five months and nineteen days. Somewhere, sometime, that will be carved into stone, and that stone placed at the head of her cemetery plot. 

In Loving Memory of Diane

April 29, 1959 -- October 17, 2025

But, the day will come when that dash will be destroyed. Cemetery means resting place in Greek, a confession of what we believe death becomes: a place of rest as we await our resurrection awakening when Jesus returns. On that day, a casket's lifetime warranty will be voided. Diane's life, begun this side of heaven in Christ, will be renewed, rebirthed in the resurrection of all flesh. The dash, along with sin and death, will be gone as we rejoice together at the foot of Christ the Lamb. 

But until then, let the dash speak volumes for this child of God. There is a lot to tell. 

"Blessed are those who die in the Lord, from this time forth and forevermore."