death

A Time to Mourn

With the recent loss of my wife’s father, I have been reflecting on the process of mourning; something we don’t always seem to do well in western culture.

Too often our expressions of deep loss are extremely abbreviated. Those closest to the departed are immediately thrust into a whirlwind of tasks: funeral arrangements, obituaries, death certificates, contacting financial institutions, filing taxes, wills and trusts. While these assignments are vital, they can also act as distractions that might prevent us from taking the time to properly mourn.

For those not involved in handling the details noted above, our various occupations are often not compatible with carving out essential bereavement time.  Getting a day off to attend a memorial, let alone taking a day off after hearing the news of a death, can be challenging.

Frequently there is a lack of compelling consolation and counsel which is often desperately needed following the death of a loved one. We don’t know who to turn to, who to talk to, who to shed tears with, so we tend to stuff our emotions, pressing on with the minutia of our lives.

And then there are our children who have no frame of reference to understand they will never see that special person again.

I recall witnessing an accident that took the life of my best friend when I was ten. Though I was an emotional wreck, my parents were ill-equipped to properly console me. I was back in school and football practice the next day. When one of our teammates was told he was taking our deceased friend’s place on the starting lineup, the poor little guy broke down crying. The team marched on that day because, I guess, it was thought that it was the best thing to do. It was decades before I was able to mourn Kenney’s untimely death and it brought long overdue healing to my life.

The Bible describes for us many important aspects of mourning, such as weeping, crying loudly, and setting aside days or even weeks to allow for healing. And even though the Christian has the assurance that when this earthly life has ended, eternal life has just begun, we are still entitled and encourgaed to express our raw emotions for the passing of another.

As King Solomon once said, God graciously allows us “a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.”

Next time, let’s make the time to mourn.

Thirty Feet from Heaven

Thirty feet from where I sit one of the most influential people in my life lies on his deathbed.

He is my father-in-law, Bob.

April 15 will mark his one-hundredth birthday. Fewer than one percent of all Americans live to that age. Bob won’t make it to that date, however. Though he has no illness or disease, hospice has been called in because his body has simply worn out. His time here is quickly ticking away.

I met Bob when I was eighteen. He and his wife, Edie, were visiting their daughter, Susie, for the first time during her freshman year of college. Susie and I were best of friends, and they asked me to join them for a fancy dinner. I recall her dad being incredibly hospitable, gregarious, and a very nice Christian man.

Susie became a Christian after witnessing her dad’s conversion while she was in high school. His transformation was so noticeable it caused her to be convinced that Jesus was indeed Lord.

It was a bit later in our freshmen year that Susie told me about Jesus. I was put off initially, but decided to read the New Testament with an open mind. Everything I ever heard about Jesus was quickly tossed aside as I read the accounts of his life in the Bible for myself.

During the following summer Bob sent me a little booklet called The Four Spiritual Laws. What I read changed everything, including a passage from the Bible’s Book of John: “As many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name” (John 1:12).

The booklet continued, explaining that, “By grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works that no one should boast” (Ephesians 2:8,9). It also spoke of “confessing your sin” and “accepting God’s forgiveness.”

I suddenly realized I needed to confess my sinful ways (trust me, there were many) and willfully receive Jesus as my personal Savior. When I did, my life instantly changed.

Susie and I married a few years later. The two of us can guarantee you; we never would have adopted children if it were not for the banner of faith that has flown over our family. Nor would I ever had been given the opportunity to assist in the adoption of over 400 foster children in the 1990s. I believe I can also honestly say there are hundreds of individuals who have come trust in Jesus as their Lord because of some of the influential people my wife and I have shared our faith with over the decades.

And at the genesis of it all is Bob.

He has been one of the most generous and charitable men I have ever met. I’ve never so much as heard him utter one curse word. He has no enemies. Even as recent as a week ago he was trying to influence men to better know the Lord.

Unlike other deaths I have witnessed, in Bob’s case the conversations about his bed include occasional laughter. When tears are shed, they are yielded with joy as old school country gospel music plays in the background.

He mumbled to us today, “No medicine.” We think it was his way of saying, Don’t slow me down. I want to see my wife, and my little brother who died as a youngster. I want to see my Savior.

Godspeed, Bob.

And thanks for letting me marry your daughter.