Poetry Page: The Final Strife

The rooms are often chilled and silent, families in some, others strangely still. Few would guess beneath such veneers the battle waging strong. For in these rooms comes Death, sometimes in meekness, sometimes with pain: here quickly, there quite slow. He comes to claim his prize, to gloat with giddy pride.

Yet Death comes not alone, for with him comes also Satan, the angel of light, now fallen. This is their hour: for it they thirst, and wait with glee. And there, near the bed, waiting with patience, a dark specter abides. Those who enter see him, and know his purpose well. His presence is felt, is known and seen. Sometimes he speaks, sometimes is silent; always his vigil maintains.

At last, the time is at hand; the waiting is over. The serpent strikes in a blink of an eye. Breathing comes harder; the body weakens; strength is lost – but the struggle is still just beginning, for Satan now plies the most devious of charms to steal away Life itself, and bends close with sorrowful tears, “Surely heaven is yours: no better could be found. You are a good person; if you don’t make it, well then, who could?”

Nearly forgotten by the side of the bed, the specter listens, then enters the fray. “Do not mistake my silence for weakness,” he silently speaks, “for this silence weaves your doom. My words have not been spoken, but my pleas have not gone unheard. Flee while you can, you “holy” angel of light! No, you fear me not, nor have you cause– but Christ sends Michael and his angelic host, strong and just and true. They felled you in days of old: they now come forth again. Show your courage! Stand fast! Slay now the strong, prey not on the weak. No? Then take your flight; run away! This hour is yours, the next is the Lord’s! Be gone, foul demon, in the name of Jesus.”

The venomous angel withdraws and grows silent, and now the specter speaks aloud. Pure light spills forth unseen in the gloom, that eyes would be opened and deaf ears unstopped. His Word is simple and plain: he speaks of Christ – His loss, our gain. The Word shows the cross, the tomb, the Lamb: love unsurpassed and true. That Word enfolds the one lying still - the one cradled in Death’s cold, hard grip - and wraps her close in loving embrace. This Word is the grave clothes in which she shall rest; this Word: her hope and peace. What glorious dress, how brilliant and white! What beauty and splendid array!

Then one more gift still does remain to be given: the fragrance of incense to adorn and crown. Tears mixed with prayer are offered aloud, holding the beloved’s still hand. “Have mercy, O Lord, and take this dear child into Your kingdom to reign.”

And then the child awakes, in brilliance of light. Her struggle is finished, the warfare is o’er. Now is her peace and endless delight; here is her joy, her love: Christ, the Lord.

Lord, send to us Your faithful servants, to watch and pray and speak. Guard us in temptation’s last hour, that at last it too may be said of us, “This child of God has met no harm.”

Rev. Tim Lorenz joyfully serves the saints of Bethlehem Lutheran Church at Greenleaf, Kansas. He has been married to his wife, Kristin, for 8 years and is the father of Abby and Noelle. He can be reached at pastorlorenz@gmail.com Rev. Tim Lorenz joyfully serves the saints of Bethlehem Lutheran Church at Greenleaf, Kansas. He has been married to his wife, Kristin, for 8 years and is the father of Abby and Noelle. He can be reached at pastorlorenz@gmail.com