Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last.
-Luke 23:46, NRSV

Scrolling through Facebook today, of all days, invariably brings to mind death and everything associated with it: loss, tragedy, grief, and fear. It’s difficult to contemplate some matters without trepidation, and the cessation of existence as we know it is certainly one of them.

For the most part, I’m not scared of death. To quote my father, “I love life, and death doesn’t worry me. It’s that transition period in between that worries me.” In that regard, I’m like my father. Mostly because I don’t want to feel pain when I die. One of the downsides to an overly active imagination and an empathic spirit is the unfortunate abilities to contemplate, and feel, the most grisly of accidents, particularly when watching one in a show or movie. (Final Destination is, therefore, a series of movies I refuse to watch.)

Realistically, however, the thing that terrifies me more than anything is… nothing. I mean that literally. That niggling question at the back of my head everytime I pray, worship, or think of my own mortality: “What if there is nothing after I die? That I’ve been wrong by having faith all my life?” To be sure, many books have been written on this topic, from all sides, and theories abound that proclaim that this is the central question that gave rise to many aspects of religion. Existential threats are the strongest blows against us, in my opinion. They can cause many, even of stout faith, to waver and lose hold of their rod of salvation.

So this verse is of particular importance to me. The man and God whom I follow, who desired us to emulate his walk and faith, shows faith for two things here: that his, and by extension, our, spirit will exist after bodily functions have ceased, and that there is someone to take custody of said being. The first is comforting, in that snoozing-by-the-fire-while-buzzed-on-wine feeling. It simply confirms my faith, and reduces the fear that the niggling question brings to a barely discernible voice lost at the back of a crowd. The second is the most awe-inspiring, especially as I meditate on it today.

Our spirit is the most precious thing to us. Hence the reason that existential threats are threats at all. And here we see someone of such devotion, of such faith, that he is not just willing to hand over his most precious belonging to someone else (even if it is God), he seems to do so with knowledge and assurance that his spirit will be protected, loved, and allowed to flourish even, and ever, more.

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. -W. B. Yeates

Dreams, so precious to us, that to give them to someone, to share it with them, is tantamount to rolling out the red carpet. We do so reservedly, cautiously, and with ample trepidation. And rightly so, for who among us hasn’t had someone sneer at or mishandle our dreams? How much more so is the value on our very being? Whom can we trust to care for such precious cargo, to handle it without damaging it, and to love it enough to display it, and not just hide it away? Jesus showed that he trusted the ground of our being, our God, as worthy of such an office. And that is truly humbling, and fills me with unspeakable love, knowing that I, too, have someone that will care my most precious being. Of all things to be written in the Gospels, this simple verse shows an example of such faiths such devotion, that, upon due reflection, generates truly righteous faith in turn.

Thank God for the example of Jesus, to quiet overthinking minds, and to show calm devotion and faith. Thank God that I now know, and not just hope, that I will exist, and be protected, after my earthly existence has ended. Thank God for God.

God, into your hands, I commend my soirit.