Moody's Last Morning

On December 22, 1899, Dwight L. Moody lay in his bedroom in Northfield, Massachusetts, his body failing after weeks of declining health. The man who had preached the gospel to more than one hundred million people across two continents was slipping away. His family gathered close, expecting grief, expecting struggle. What they witnessed instead left them astonished.

Moody's eyes opened, and he spoke with sudden clarity: "Earth recedes. Heaven opens before me." His son Will, thinking his father was dreaming, urged him to rest. Moody shook his head. "No, this is no dream, Will. It is beautiful. It is like a trance. If this is death, it is sweet. There is no valley here. God is calling me, and I must go."

His family wept — not from despair, but from the sheer weight of what they were witnessing. Death had come to collect its debt, and Moody greeted it like a man walking through an open door into a familiar home. There was no terror. No clinging. No sting.

This is what Paul meant when he threw down his defiant challenge: "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" For those anchored in Christ, death does not get the final word. It arrives expecting surrender and finds instead a soul already claimed by the Risen King. Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.