A grief observed

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:7

My brother Darrell died last Saturday from complications of pancreatic cancer at the age of 56. I received the news while finishing a salad lunch at Costco six miles away. My sister Brenda was seated beside me with her cell phone. She said simply, “He’s gone. About five minutes ago.”

It felt like a sucker punch to the gut. For a few seconds it didn’t matter that Darrell’s suffering was over. For a few seconds I forgot that I had prayed a benediction over Darrell and told him I loved him several nights in a row. It just hurt badly.

I had recently blogged that death was welcome. But it really wasn’t. Not at that moment.

The hurt was immediately followed by regret. We hadn’t been there with him. We had stopped for a 25 mile torque check on our rotated tires. We were going to pick up salads and eat them in Darrell’s room. But they told us it would take 45 minutes with the car. So we ate the salads there. And lingered a few minutes more. We hadn’t hurried. After all, we had been waiting with Darrell almost a week. We were commuting from my older sister Pam’s house in Asheville, North Carolina. That was 65 miles away and we hadn’t seen Darrell yet that day. It was already noon. Suddenly he was gone.

Pain and regret stabbed me. I ran for the car, which I had just learned was ready. On the way, I realized that God’s timing was right after all. Anne needed to be alone with Darrell at the end. Suddenly I was glad she had been there instead of us. Had we arrived earlier, she might have left before he died.

By the time I pulled the car to the no-parking zone at the door two minutes later, Carol and Brenda had already reached the same conclusion. I loaded Carol’s crutches into the back (she had sprained her ankle 12 days earlier), jumped into the driver’s seat, and said, “Let’s pray.”

We drove and prayed. Or prayed and drove. When we arrived 10 minutes later, God was already providing peace. Anne was ready for us. All was well. At least, all was going to be well.

In the days since, I’ve been aware of deep grief. My mind regularly goes back to Darrell. He was my only brother, but we weren’t especially close. I was almost five years older by the calendar and four years ahead of him in school. I was finishing college and getting married when he finished high school. I was the oldest in my high school class. Darrell was the youngest in his class. It made a difference. We were very different. We didn’t do a lot together as kids. Not only was I older than Darrell, we also had different values and different interests. Our life paths diverged.

We met a few times over the years for vacations and holidays. But we didn’t see each other a lot, not even every year. We weren’t angry or fighting. We were just in our own very different worlds.

Late in January, Darrell called me. He said he was finally ready to open up. He told us his disease had returned and the news wasn’t good. He was scared. He asked for prayer. We prayed.

After that, I was the one who initiated contact. Darrell was still very private. He didn’t want calls more often than every three weeks or once a month. Sometimes it was hard to reach him. He was hospitalized a few times. He kept saying, “No visits and no money.” I nudged him toward Jesus and pointed him toward some resources. He said he’d check them out. I asked about his faith. He said it was “slow.”

At the informal memorial service on Sunday, one his co-workers (Rich) stood up and said he had very directly confronted Darrell about heaven in one of his last coherent days. He said, “Sometimes you had to be very direct with Darrell.”

That was true. Darrell didn’t respond to subtle hints. Rich told the group how Darrell had confirmed that he was going to heaven. That is a comfort to me. But Darrell’s death still hurts. I’m not sure I expected it to hurt this much.

Anne told me about another person who was coping with death by pretending it never happened. I’ not sure it’s possible to do that. I think if you try it, you’re left with only a very superficial life.

It’s much better to live deeply. That involves the spiritual world. That means connecting with Jesus. He has offered to carry our pain. I can testify that it’s a genuine offer.

Jesus does carry our pain. I still feel the loss, but it’s not crushing. All is well. At least, all will be well.

 

Thirsty

“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.” Isaiah 55:1

The first night after they moved Darrell to a nearby hospice house, he pulled out his feeding tube. We don’t interpret it as a suicide attempt, rather a reflexive reaction to discomfort. But the result is he is no longer able to receive nourishment through his port. As a result of the strokes, he cannot swallow. Therefore Darrell is dehydrating. He is thirsty.

In Isaiah 55, the Lord speaks gently to those who are thirsty. He extends an invitation to come, drink and eat.

We all get thirsty. We need water to live. Not just physical water. Spiritual water. Isaiah uses a physical analogy to illustrate a spiritual reality. God invites us to come to him. The invitation is genuine. Though we are sinners, God is not against us. He yearns for us to receive mercy and pardon for our sins.

“Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake their ways and the unrighteous their thoughts. Let them turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will freely pardon.” Isaiah 55:6-7

We arrived last night at the hospice house in Spartanburg, South Carolina, to find Darrell unaware and non-responsive. I spoke with him, read Scripture and prayed with him. I told him God was not taking his physical life, but giving him eternal life. However, it was one way communication. Darrell made it through the night and we will return to him today.

God’s invitation is for all of us. Death is not the end, but a transition. We are eternal spiritual beings, not merely transient physical bodies. Are you thirsty? Are you hungry? God invites you to come, eat and drink from him.

A Breath of Mercy

My brother Darrell, 56, is dying of pancreatic cancer. He has only a few days to live at most now, perhaps less. We may get to South Carolina in time to see him before he dies. Or we may not arrive in time. When he passes, the immediate cause of death will be complications from a series of strokes.

Today God breathed a moment of mercy. Darrell regained enough awareness and lucidity to address end of life issues. Someone contacted a lawyer and he was able to sign a will. Although speech is impaired, he was able to communicate by phone with our parents, who still live in the same house in Ohio where my siblings and I all grew up. Most important, he met with a chaplain. Although I don’t know the details of their conversation, that is a very positive sign. The south is, after all, the Bible belt.

I am reminded of the incident recorded in Numbers 21 when the children of Israel grumbled against the Lord in the wilderness. God sent venomous snakes among the people. The bites of the serpents were lethal. When the people repented of their sin, God didn’t remove the snakes. Instead he instructed Moses to make a bronze snake and put it on a pole. Anyone who was bitten had only to look at the pole and he would live.

Jesus referred to this event when he was speaking to Nicodemus in John 3. He identified the pole as a type or a symbol of his coming cross. He himself became sin for us, which is pictured by the serpent on the pole. Like the serpent in the desert, the Son of Man would be lifted up on a cross. Those who look at him will live. It is the look of faith.

Salvation is not achieved by a lifetime of good works. In this word picture given by Jesus to the educated rabbi, salvation results from a mere look at the cross. Maybe it’s just a glance, but the cross arrests our attention. It turns our glance into a gaze. We can look at the cross with full confidence in our salvation. We can do nothing because Christ has done everything. We can receive deliverance only by faith. It is God’s love poured out for us.

If God had removed the snakes from among the people, the people still would have died. They already were bitten. They were guilty of sin. By leaving the snakes in their midst–the consequences of their grumbling, God graciously pointed them to the only deliverance from their condition.

We are in the same condition today. We are guilty of sin. We have been bitten by snakes. Have you looked at the cross? Will you gaze at the cross today? it is your only deliverance from sin.