Before
I accepted Christ as my Savior, I had a real fear of dying. I’m not referring
to the process of dying. I’m talking about the matter of my no longer being
here. Or the more disturbing questions, “Is
there anything beyond physical death? Will I exist in some other way, some
other dimension?” I’m not sure where
these personal concerns came from, but it was real enough. I tend to think it
had something to do with my friends and me riding our bikes through the local
cemetery. This one particular cemetery, only a few blocks from my house, had
the coolest gravel paths. We’d skid our bikes to see how far we could launch
the rocks. Or we’d spin our tires to see if we could get a direct hit on a
tombstone. Then there were those rare times when I would stop and read some
headstones. Most provide the name of the deceased and the dates of that
person’s life. Then there were those that had an epitaph, such as: “Here lies John Yeast, Pardon him for not
rising.”
Despite
attempts at humor in epitaphs, laying a loved one in the grave can create a
tremendous internal struggle. As a child, it was troubling to observe gravestones
that were of inferior quality, clearly showing the ravages of tempest and time.
Names and dates often were no longer discernible. This would bring yet more
disturbing questions to my mind: “Does
anyone remember who is buried here? Will anyone remember me when I’m buried
somewhere?”
Knowing
that Jesus rose from the dead has brought hope and confidence that, just as he
conquered death, every person who trusts in him will rise again to eternal life
in heaven. As Paul said, “Oh death, where
is your victory? Oh death, where is your sting?” It would be like Paul
saying, “Hey death! Jesus beat you! You
don’t look so tough now!”
Last
week my mother passed safely across that great divide into the arms of her Jesus.
A few days before, while she was in the hospital on a Bi-PAP breathing machine,
struggling, as her 98 year old body was slowly losing the battle, I read to her
from the Bible. I then sang hymns and gospel songs. I finished with, “Jesus Loves Me,” at which point she
looked at me and tried to talk through the cumbersome and uncomfortable forced-air
mask covering her face. I leaned closer to try and make out what she was
mouthing. As difficult as it was for her to speak at this point with this
device restricting her speech, and struggling to breathe with lungs ever so
slowly filling with fluid, she wanted to say something to me. She fixed me with
that classic “mother’s look,” which says in so many words, “Pay attention! This is
important.” Between breathes, she said, “Jesus
loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” She wanted to be sure that
I knew she had heard me sing the song, and that those words echoed a resounding
truth that resonates from one end of eternity to the other.
I
will miss my mother, there’s no doubting that. On the other hand, what excites
me the most is knowing that she is now enjoying precious, priceless moments
hugging and kissing the two children she never got to know in this life. Her
first child, Daniel, was still-born. Her third, Judy, had spina-bifida and only
lived a couple of weeks. Today such a condition could be treated, but not so in
1946.
My
daughter Laura shared one of those special moments treasured by all parents (and
grandparents). My mother was called Grams by her grandkids and great grandkid. So
on Sunday night after Grams went to be with Jesus, Laura was having prayer time
with six-year-old Alyssa before bed. Alyssa prayed “that Grams would be loved in heaven just like she was loved here.”
Knowing
that Grams has died has raised many questions coming from Alyssa. Laura says
she believes she covered the answers to those questions pretty well, but they
are always a challenge to adults when coming from children. Then Alyssa told her
mom that she wants to be with Grams when she dies!
The
promise of God for Christians is stated clearly in Revelation 21:4. “God will wipe every tear from their eyes.
There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of
things has passed away.” Add to that the new body which each will receive,
a body created and designed by God never to tire, or wear out, but is made for
eternity, and you’ve got a hope in the future that simply can’t be beaten.
1 comment:
What a wonderful statement regarding your loss of your mother, Dr. Roots:
Her faith, and yours for passing it on to the rest of us, is a gift of the Lord obviously directed to all of us.
My heart goes out to you for your loss, and my faith knows as you said - she is transformed in a wonderful way.
RW
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