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Death

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Death

Death

Romans 8:35-39; 2 Corinthians 4:7-12; 2 Timothy 1:8-10; Hebrews 2:14-18

In death, in the abyss, and in doubt we should remind ourselves, I have the word that I shall live no matter how hard death may press me.

—Martin Luther

Are You Prepared?

Joseph Addison went to Oxford in the seventeenth century and applied for admission at Magdalen College. He was ushered into a room draped in black and lighted by a single taper. When the president of the college—a gloomy Puritan—appeared, the candidate's examination related not to Latin, Greek, or literature, as he had thought, but to his personal faith. Suddenly the young man was asked, "Are you prepared for death?" Whereupon Addison fled, never to return.

Beyond the Sunset

One day Saint Francis was hoeing in his garden when a friend said, "What would you do if you knew you would die at sunset?" He replied, "I would finish hoeing my garden."

Comforting Hymns

It was no accident that during the painful illness of the former secretary of state, John Foster Dulles, he desired to hear the hymns of the church. He listened to the recordings of such offerings as "The Spacious Firmament on High," "When Morning Gilds the Skies," and "Through the Night of Doubt and Sorrow." The waning spirit of John Foster Dulles was rekindled night after night by listening to the great hymns of Christian faith.

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Christians never say goodbye!

—C. S. Lewis

We owe God a death.

—Shakespeare

Don't bother me, can't you see I am busy dying?

—H. G. Wells

Continue to Sing

The television movie, The Thorn Birds, reminded us of the Celtic legend which says the only time the thorn bird sings is at its death when it impales itself on a thorn; it continues to sing while dying.

Die Right

John Davis, known as "Uncle John" was 105 years old in 1981. He is South Carolina's only "AAA-rated trusty" He has been in prison since 1922. His crime? Burglary! He broke into a house and took a watch and five dollars. Burglary was a capital crime for black persons in Dillon County in the 1920s. Davis was sentenced to life. After escaping twice, he settled down, found Christ, and in 1940 became head cook at the Central Correctional Institution. He is free to leave, but he has nowhere to go. "Getting out here would be like digging my own grave. I got no living kin left, and who is going to take care of me, and pay for my medicine and my food and my clothes?"

Among other remarks, he said on his one-hundred-fifth birthday: "Since then [his escapes] I've met enough people to know right from wrong, and I've learned the best thing to do is to live right and pray right and treat other people right so I can die right."

Don't Forget God!

In Stay of Execution, Stewart Alsop discussed what it was like to live with incurable leukemia. The disease was temporarily arrested. During this time, the not-too-active Episcopalian and noted journalist discussed a number of variables with his physician. Finally Alsop said, "There is one variable you keep leaving out."

"What's that?"

"God," he said.

The doctor and patient smiled. Alsop continued, "I don't really believe in God, or at least I don't think I do, and I doubt if my doctor does; but I think we both had in the back of our minds the irrational notion that God might have something to do with what happened all the same."

Face It Clean

Among the celebrated professors at Lynchburg College, Lynchburg, Virginia, is Sheldon Vanauken, author of the powerful book, A Severe Mercy. In it he told of his courtship and marriage to Jean Davis, and their days together at Oxford where they met C. S. Lewis, whose influence led them to Christian commitment. They were so in love and happy in the faith.

Subsequently, his bride fell victim to a mysterious disease. She was a patient at the Virginia Baptist Hospital for months. At last, at three o'clock in the morning, a telephone call brought word that Mrs. Vanauken was dying.

"How long?" the professor asked.

"They thought several hours," he was told.

Although time was of the essence, the weary and anxious man bathed and shaved before going to the hospital. "But I had to come to her—I had to face what must be faced—clean." He found her lucid.

Following a tender greeting, she said she was thirsty. "And I gave her a cup of water in the night—our old symbol of courtesy. Then I prayed one of the prayers we always prayed: 'Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of Thy only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.'"

In a day of frightening health care costs and carefully calibrated hospital profit structures, it is refreshing to note that Virginia Baptist Hospital, Lynchburg, Virginia, would not accept "a penny for all their care of her over months, not even for the meals they occasionally brought me."

The hospital's simple explanation was, she "had done more for them, for their nurses and other patients, than they had ever been able to do for her."

Facing It

Death is the shadow that hangs over human life. It is the judgment. It is God's evaluation of your life and mine. Though impossible to do so, we are constantly attempting to escape the fact of death. The late William Randolph Hearst forbade anyone to use the word death in his presence. What a contrast to Philip II, King of Macedon and father of Alexander the Great, who commissioned a servant to come into his presence daily and solemnly announce, "Remember, Philip, thou must die"

Have Me Decently Buried

When dying, George Washington said to his physician friend, Dr. James Craik, "I feel myself going. I thank you for your attention. You had better not take any more trouble about me; but let me go off quietly; I cannot last long." Two days after his conversation with Craik he said to his secretary, "I am just going. Have me decently buried, and do not let my body be put into the vault in less than two days after I am dead. ... 'Tis well."

How Many Sundays?

The late Leslie Weatherhead told of being called to see a dying man who was afraid to die. As London's great preacher visited with the stranger about God, the church, Christ, and things of the Spirit, the man replied, "I have been too busy for these things. I have never had time." Weatherhead concluded his story by saying, "The man had been permitted to live four thousand Sundays!"

Spiritual Center for Life

A spiritual center for life gives meaning to every area of life. When despair and trouble come, the Christian must have the courage to exercise his faith on the evidence of what God has done in the past. One must remember Job's confidence: 'Though he slay me, yet will I trust him" (13:15). We must recognize that the hope we treasure is the gift of God and is our only valid response to the knowledge that He will be with us through the valley.

The Mortality Rate—100 Percent

A brazen preacher told the congregation, "Someday every member of this parish will die!" The congregation was stunned, all except one man who laughingly said, "I don't belong to this parish." Small comfort! Despite medical miracles, the mortality rate remains at precisely 100 percent.

Nothing Wasted, Even Grief

To read Eugenia Price's The Beloved Invader is to be reminded that life has shocking ways of turning honeymoons into funerals. Ellen Gould died in the arms of Anson Dodge while honeymooning in India. The young minister and his charming wife had been guests of a British precinct officer in Allahabad.

After eating some grapes, Ellen became desperately ill. All night Anson and Dr. Hayworth struggled to keep her alive. With the coming of dawn, she whispered, "Anson, don't leave me." Her features changed. She was dead. In anguish the young minister cried, "No, God! No."

The Right Reverend Edward Ralph Johnson, bishop of Calcutta, conducted the service of memory. Reflecting on the funeral, all the confused husband could recall was the paraphrasing of Jesus' words, "... though she were dead, yet shall she live."

It was a long, sad voyage from Allahabad to Saint Simons Island, Georgia. During the weeks of heartbreaking travel, the young rector kept rehearsing Bishop Johnson's comment, "It is God's way not to waste anything. Even grief."

Friends at Saint Simons snared his crushing grief. Following another memorial service, Anson Dodge began the long, tedious task of recasting his life. Like the Indian lover, Shah Jehan, who erected the Taj Mahal, he with the cooperation of his congregation built a church in memory of Ellen—Christ's church! This cruciform structure of white pine, paneled in cedar, with delicate stained-glass windows, not only memorializes the devotion of a people to Almighty God, but also the growing faith of their shepherd and his mature love for Ellen Dodge whose body was eventually laid to rest under its altar. His grief is reminiscent of the bereavement of Naomi who, bereft of husband and sons, said, "I went away full, and the Lord has brought me back empty" (Ruth 1:21).

Sad, Very Sad

Americans were saddened to hear of the demise of Arthur Godfrey, Wednesday, March 16, 1983. He was seventy-nine. With dogged determination, a gravelly voice, and a ukulele, he eventually cracked the entertainment world. It is claimed that at the height of his popularity as an entertainer, he had a daily audience of eighty million and received twenty-five thousand letters a day. It was not what he said that made him special, but the way he said it. Yet, according to Andy Rooney, who once worked for the "redhead," he did not have many friends. Godfrey did not want a funeral—and there wasn't one. "Sad," said Rooney, "very sad."

Contrast in Death

The French nurse who was present at the deathbed of Voltaire, being urged to attend an Englishman who was critically ill, asked: "Is the man a Christian?" "Yes," came the reply, "He is a man who lives in the fear of God, but why do you ask?"

"Sir," she answered, "I was the nurse who attended Voltaire in his last illness, and for all the wealth of Europe, I would never see another infidel die!"

The Ultimate in Courage and Love

Death is the shadow that hangs over humankind. To some it is a fearful thing, while to others it is a challenge. Louis XV, King of France, foolishly ordered that death was never to be spoken of in his presence. He sought to avoid every suggestion of death. Whatever camouflage or psychological facade is employed, death still comes. It startles us. Bishop Angus Dun said it well, "Death measures the ultimate in courage and in love."

Under Trivia

I could not believe my ears. I was shocked, even angry, when rising early Thursday, March 24, 1983, I heard a radio announcer flippantly remark: "Under trivia, Barney Clark is dead."

The casual spokesman made no reference to Clark's identity, or his heroic and sacrificial spirit. No appreciation was voiced for the team of extraordinary physicians who were participating in a daring experiment to save life; no family linkage; no mention that the principal inventor of the artificial heart, Robert Jarvik, "cried a little"; no admiration for this pioneer who desperately wanted to live, yet was willing to undergo stress and pain to be a breathing laboratory that physicians might learn to assist others. Clark said in one of his few interviews: "All in all, it has been a pleasure to be able to help people." For 112 days he demonstrated incredible courage and faith.

"Under trivia, Barney Clark is dead." No indeed! He has been removed from our sight, yes, but never from our memory and gratitude. He is no longer fettered to life-support systems, but free to rejoin his Creator.

I shall try to forget the inappropriate and irresponsible comment of the glib announcer and cherish all the more the assuring words of Jesus: "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (John 15:13).

Whether Life or Death

Immanuel Kant declared that no one had the right to talk about immortality until he worked so hard at being mortal that he longed for the immortal. Is not this the message of the apostle Paul? After a long and devoted career as an ambassador for Christ, he was arrested and thrown into prison. Not knowing what the future held for him, that is, on his captors' terms, he had the one hope that Christ would be honored in his body, whether by life or death.

"A White Soul"

When the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow lay in the dignity of death, his friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose memory was failing, came to pay his respects. Standing by the casket, unable to identify him, Emerson, speaking slowly and calmly, said, "I don't remember this gentleman's name, but he was a white soul"