Bill Coley and the Lifely Hallows

SPOILER WARNING!! If you are a “Harry Potter” fan and intend to read, but have not yet completed the last book in the series, you may not want to read this entry. Proceed at your own risk (or come back when you’ve finished the book!)

There’s a scene late in the final Harry Potter book in which the title character concludes that if his arch nemesis — the series’ embodiment of evil, named “Voledemort” — is to die, he, Harry, must also die. Willingly, Potter marches into a forbidden forest, on the mission of his life... and death.

On the way to his destiny, he opens a metal object inside which he discovers a magical item called the “resurrection stone,” one of the book title’s “deathly hallows.” (Read the book, if you want explanations for all these Potterisms!) The stone has the power to connect its user with people who have died, though the connection established is neither complete nor satisfying enough to be deemed a reunion.

Seeking comfort and encouragement in his last steps before death, Potter employs the stone to summon his parents, his godfather, and another confidant, all who had died earlier. While the book prompted potent emotions from me, it was this conversation between destined and departed that brought the most fervent tears.

“You’ve been so brave,” says Harry’s mother.

“You are nearly there. Very close. We are...so proud of you,” adds his dad.

Harry wants to know whether death hurts. His godfather tells him death is “quicker and easier than falling asleep.”

Seconds later, the pre-game pep talk concludes this way:

Harry: “You’ll stay with me?”

Dad: “Until the very end....”

Harry: “Stay close to me.”

Conventional wisdom argues the more you care about Harry and his exploits, the more this scene will get to you, but I think its appeal is more universal than that. The prospect of facing life’s ultimate punctuation mark having first been braced by people who have traveled the road you’re on, should sear anyone’s heart.

I envision approaching death’s entrance hand-in-hand with my mom, she telling me about the morning she woke up feeling ill, somehow correctly concluding that she was going to die. I imagine her describing her experience, most likely in minute detail (this is my mom, we’re talking about!), then telling me about the surroundings of heaven before attending to my pressing need for encouragement as I near life’s most mysterious threshold.

I picture my paternal grandparents rising to cheer my carrying on grandpa’s pastoral mantle, as they hold open their arms, affectionately noting how long it has been since they last saw me, how cute I was when I sat on his lap and kissed his puffed-out cheek, and how good it was, all those years ago, for her to have my siblings and me spend nights at their house. Then, I see them calmly and quietly pointing to the gates of glory while assuring me we’ll have plenty of time to talk.

I cried as I read Harry Potter’s forbidden forest conversation, largely because it symbolizes for me a transcendent intimacy and hopefulness. If fear can be vanquished in the face of death, then there is no final fear. If hope can be rekindled in the moments before one’s last breath, then there is no deadly despair. If the people of your past can accompany you to the portals of your forever, then death indeed has lost both its sting and victory.

The ultimate welcoming cheerleader, of course, is Jesus, the one whose example fuels Scripture’s passionate pronouncements about eternal life. Had Harry asked Jesus whether death hurt, I wonder whether Jesus would have said anything about the rusty nails, or the scornful crowd, or the brooding, lonely sky? I rather doubt it. I think he would rather have echoed Harry’s parents encouragement: “You’re almost there.... I am so proud of you.”

At least I pray that’s what Jesus would say to Harry...and to me.

There’s a marvelous song by Carolyn Arends called “We’ve Been Waiting for You,” in which she transforms the welcome home she and her husband have for their newborn child into the welcome she hopes one day to receive herself in heaven. Like the Potter conversation related earlier, these lyrics, taken from the end of the song and intended for her child, bring me to tears. I hope you’ll understand why, and that you’ll experience healing visions of resurrection with the people of your past.

“Another journey awaits us
So when I have to leave

I am pretty sure that I'll be frightened
But even if I cry, please understand
I will know I'm not alone
When my room is ready I'll go home
And when I reach the gate
I'm going to hear them saying

We've been waiting for you
We're so glad you came
We've been looking forward
To showing you the place
There's so much in store and
We've been waiting for you”

Good night, Harry.


Pray with me:
I don’t know whether death will hurt, or whether I will be frightened. But I do know who will be waiting for me, and who cheers and inspires me today. In the present, for the future, I am okay, thanks to you, God. No wonder we have eternal life: to have enough time to express our appreciation. In the name of Jesus, Amen.