My perspective is skewed. But so is yours. Experience shapes our views, making us see the mountain from the side we’re standing on, but unable to see the other’s perspective unless we walk around and gaze at the mountain’s beauty together. Let’s see if we can sort this out to better understand each other.
I remember hearing the news. Years earlier, we had prayed for our retired pastor friend. He had struggled through a nasty bout of cancer (as if there is ever a nice bout of cancer?), but he came through. Healthy. Strong. Cancer-free, clean scans. Praise God; He is good!
But two years later, the follow-up scans were not clear. That wretched fiend had returned. Caring Bridge posted a play-by-play. Defense: Chemo. Offense: Cancer. Cancer scores! Defense: Radiation. Offense: Cancer. Cancer scores again! Defeat was imminent for our septuagenarian friend. We prayed for his health and the state of his heart. We prayed for his bride and adult babes. We prayed the Lord would intervene, if it be His will.
And our friend kept fighting. He would not admit defeat against this malicious foe. A clinical trial with no guaranteed results was being conducted halfway across the country. He needed money for travels, money for lodging, money for the study. In an attempt to gather funds to save his life, our friend set up a GoFundMe.
You see, he still had so much to do. There were places to go and people to see. After 50 years of marriage, his bride still needed him. His grandbabies needed Grandpa. He just knew the Lord wasn’t through with him yet.
I get it. I’ve been there. To crawl through the dark tunnels of a health crisis is a journey to test anyone’s faith. For me, the first flicker of fear began with, “Lord, you can’t let me die; my kids need me.” True or false? Can the Lord let me die? Do my kids need me? When I first became ill, I had two kids at home, ages 2 and 4. Would it not be unfair, unjust really, for the Lord to take my children’s mother from them?
But the longer I struggled, the more I submitted. As much as I would like to claim I live a Jesus-centered life, the reality is my life is centered around me. Were I able to categorically sort my thoughts, putting ‘me-thoughts’ into one bucket and ‘other’s thoughts’ into another bucket, my bucket would overflow its abundance. I can easily assign a level of importance to my life higher than it ought to be. My muddled fears at the beginning of my health crisis defined myself as irreplaceable.
“If I die, Lord, who will comfort the crying babe in the middle of the night? Who will change the diapers? Who, Lord Jesus, will sit on the couch for an hour each day, one child on my left, the other on my right, and read the entire stack of two-dozen library books, only to do it all over again? Who will take them for walks and teach them to ride bikes? Who will lead through the tumultuous years of puberty, the first crush, the rocky friendships, and leave them on their first day in the dorm with a fleeting glance that life will never be the same again? Is this not my God-given right to walk through life with my kiddos? Is this not why you gave them to me, Lord?”
Though I prayed for healing, that prayer wasn’t answered for over four years. I watched people come in and out of my home, loving my children as their own when I was unable to leave the bed. Neighbors and friends and church ladies brought meals. My kiddos grew up with an extended family of unrelated kin who chose to enter our mangled mess. I relinquished control and was able to see that I am not needed here on this earth. My kids don’t need me. My husband doesn’t need me. We all need Jesus. What if the Lord takes me home, and my kids lean on Jesus in a way they never would have if I had lived? Would this not be better?
The Apostle Paul had a similar mental struggle. “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.” (Philippians 1:21-23)
I finally reached a point where I realized this life is nothing to cling to. We are here for a short time, and after I die, few will remember me. My purpose in life is to point others to Jesus. When I die, and people remember Jesus, then my purpose in life has been fulfilled. I am so thankful I learned this in my early 30’s. I now live my life in complete freedom. I am free of the fear of death. I am free of thinking this world needs me. It’s not that I don’t love all of you, but my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. When I am absent from this body, I will be present with the Lord. (2 Corinthians 5:8)
My septuagenarian pastor friend died clinging to this earth, desiring more time, wanting more of life here. I live, yearning for life there.
Cling to Jesus. He will show you a more excellent way.
Photo by Strauss Western on Unsplash
This side of the mountain is not so scary. I have recently had the same thoughts; that really what matters is the other side. I want to see so many people who have gone before me, and if I do my job right, clinging to Christ despite my many flaws, the ones who follow will be there with us all in the end.