death

The last ten days seem all blurred together. Hard times, tears shed, thoughts pondered, regrets to be lived with, a fight for truth, good times too, meals and happy children times.

The phone call came through . . . over a week ago now . . . notifying me that my grandfather had suffered a major stroke. It didn't shake me much at first. Like it didn't register, or maybe I somehow assumed that he would walk out of the hospital a few days later, unchanged. He has always been so strong. Smart. Active. Happy. He was somehow immortal in my mind.

Then the harder news came. The doctors saying he would not likely live past five days. Then I saw him, staring up at me, not speaking, just holding my hand in forced silence. Paralyzed. You don't want to weep in front of someone who needs your smile. But you feel so bad. So helpless. Luke and I just held onto each other, standing by him, not knowing what to say. Finally singing softly to him. Just loving on him.

Two days later a phone call came through. I never answer the numbers I don't recognize but for some reason I did that morning. An awkward first few sentences on the other end . . . asking if I knew Luke. Was I his wife? Did Luke ever talk to me about this particular friend he had from HS? Then learning that this friend had just taken his own life. I felt sick. Knowing that, last we knew, he did not know our Savior. I felt sick for Luke, knowing that he had mentioned getting in touch with him before for the purpose of sharing the truth with him. Regrets to be lived with . . . prayerfully ones that we will learn from. There is no promise of tomorrow. Eternity is forever. There is no love in hiding the Savior from the lost. Not sure that I've ever cried while on the phone before in my twenty-four brief years of life. But I did that day.

My grandfather did live past the five days. And now we ride the emotional roller coaster of bad days and good days and not knowing what he really wants or how he feels. At times I dream of him getting a little better, maybe being able to enjoy life a little more. But the reality of today is that he is trapped in a bed unable to speak. It's not death. But it is an end to life as it once was.

Wonder what I would be thinking if I were him right now. Would I be rejoicing in my Savior and in His goodness, knowing that all of this is working together for my good and God's glory?

Humans are so fragile. No matter how strong, happy, or healthy we are we're all just riding the road to death.

That's a terrifying reality without a risen Savior.

When our trust is in Christ alone we can face our frailty head-on. Death is not the end of the story.

Christ suffered. He wasn't stuck in a bed, unable to move. He was nailed to a cross, naked and shamed.

In utter agony He died. He was buried. For those who were His disciples, hope vanished.

But He snatched the keys of death and hell from a defeated devil and granted life to all who would depend on Him.

And so religions continue to evolve as people reason that death will come upon us all. People "do" and "do not do" and go to church and read and pray. Then they face death terrified anyway.

All the while Christ is calling. Calling us to lay down our striving and fling ourselves into His saving arms. And so the Scripture says, "Whosoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved."

Once we taste of His mercy we long to be pleasing. It's not working for or living a good life to obtain heaven. It is loving Christ because He first loved us . . . and because He is so lovely that those who catch a glimpse of Him cannot help but to love Him.

We are here today and gone tomorrow.

That reality either provokes joy or terror.

My heart feels stirred. Stirred by the death of those around me to be done with my own politically correct living and start loving those within my reach. They need to know.

Eternity calls.