Today I read of Abraham burying his wife Sarah.

Abraham was 137 years old. He would live another 38 years without Sarah.

Many were the memories with Sarah. Packing to leave Mesopotamia. The years in Haran. Finally the last move to the land of Canaan.

The 25 years of waiting for the promise. The faux pas of Ishmael, and that debacle.

Sarah had been there for it all. Now she was gone. Abraham looked into her cold still face for the last time.

Standing beside Abraham was his 37 year old son of promise, Issac.

Ishmael, who was 51, was probably there also. Maybe there were others as well.

Many years of memories were being laid to rest in that lonely, barren cave of Machpelah.

Eliezer, Abraham’s servant of over 60 years was there. That faithful servant who had lived the victories, hardships, and tragedies along with the family. He would be the one who would make the journey to bring back Rebekah in three years, when Issac was 40 years old.

Rebekah would never know her husband’s mother. Her children would never know their grandmother. Death was denying them ever knowing that.

We will never know the thoughts and feelings that ambled through all their minds as they walked away from a huge chunk of their lifetime. Sarah was gone. Dead. She had been there for so many years, now she was gone.

Death is such a horrible foe. It is so final and powerful. It takes so much from us. It leaves us lonely, sad, and empty, and sometimes angry.

In my opinion natural, physical, death does not compare with the pain of spiritual death.

The agony of watching someone walk away from God after years of worship and shouting and church functions is pain beyond description!

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