Dying Well

So after a brief hiatus, I'm kind of picking up where I left off. It's All Saints Day. In addition to having "For All the Saints" running through my head, I've been thinking about the cloud of witnesses that surrounds us. Really, more like one person in particular.

My grandmother taught me how to die. Now, she taught me many other things through her words and example. But she truly showed me what it means to die well.

Nanny, as all the grandkids called her, was in excellent health until the last few years of her life. These were very painful as she suffered severe osteoporosis and a host of other issues. Yet, as attested by her family and friends, she never complained. She always fought to regain her strength and be there for us, even as she experienced strenuous medical issues. After recovering from multiple falls, gall stones, and pancreatitis, she earned the nickname Energizer Bunny.

In her final months, she told us several times that she longed to go Home. She was ready to be with Jesus. But even still, she fought to live to the fullest in every moment she was given.

A few days before she died, my uncles were in her hospital room discussing sports. Nanny was fading, often in and out of consciousness and lucidness at that point. Yet she was well aware of one thing. "The Rangers lost. Lauren won't be happy." For a couple years, the majority of my summer nights were spent with Mom and Nanny, hanging out at her apartment, watching the Rangers, talking about anything and everything, and helping Nanny with her evening routine.

Tonight, the Rangers lost game five of the World Series, and I can't say I'm happy. But there are so many bigger things in life, matters of life and death, matters of eternity. Nanny lived out what it meant to trust God, even when life was living hell. She had a confident faith and a gracious strength. She never quit fighting, even to her very last days. On her 88th birthday, her whole family gathered in her hospital room. She told each one of us that she loved us and was proud of us. Two days later, God took her Home, and I'm sure she heard the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

May I strive for that, as she did, every day of my life, and may I live and die well, to the glory of God.

O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
All are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true and bold,
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

Martyrs and Matters of Life and Death - Part 1

The Christian faith is just as much about death as it is life.

Yet, most American Christians have no idea what a good death is. Most of them probably think that's an oxymoron.

This is one of those 'tough questions that no one else is asking' that Summit Ministries is willing to address. And I'm grateful. At the Summit student conference this summer, one line that kept coming up was "Death is not the ultimate evil." One of the four major questions we ponder for three months at Summit Semester is "What is a good death, and what good is death?"

We have Life because of the Good Death - the death of the Son of God on a cross. And we are given this Life when we too die. I am commanded to daily pick up my cross and follow Jesus, for I am crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who lives, but Christ who lives in me.

We don't really understand this in the American Church today. I think there are a couple reasons why, and I'll address these in upcoming posts.
1. Our culture doesn't understand death.
2. The prosperity gospel completely skews what life, death, and success really are.
3. The American Church doesn't understand real discipleship.
4. While we need to discuss death, we are not called to cultivate a culture of death like Islam.

I don't have the references, but this definitely stuck out to me in class Monday night. In the 1800s, waves of missionaries went to Africa, even though they knew the terrible statistics. 90% of missionaries would be dead within two years of arriving in Africa. Rather than shipping their goods in trunks, they packed their belongings in their own coffins. And yet missionaries continued to come, and slowly the Gospel spread. Ralph Winter, founder of the US Center for World Missions, commented that he didn't think his generation had the guts to do that. And if his generation didn't, mine certainly doesn't.

I'm not trying to be morbid or masochistic here, but this is not an issue that can simply be ignored. To quote Jim Elliot, martyred by the Auca/Huaorani tribe in Ecuador, "He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."