“Mom says death is as natural as birth, and it’s all part of the life cycle.
She says we don’t really understand it, but there are many things we don’t understand, and we just have to do the best we can with the knowledge we have.
I guess that makes sense.”
On Friday, June 9th, my father-in-law passed away. His name was John. He had been ill for many years, and was cared for by his wife and children. In the weeks leading up to his death, I had been thinking of John and his wife. I thought of his struggles and her monumental efforts. In my contemplation, I kept returning to a line from Paul’s Second Epistle to Timothy. Just before Paul mentions finishing the race, he says, “I have been poured out like a drink offering.” Biblically, this line served as an allusion to offerings of wine that had to accompany every sacrifice under the old covenant. An offering was not considered complete until the drink offering was given. In my regard, John was poured out like drink offering. And, so was his wife. What a sight that was to see. While I’m sure it is now difficult for his wife and children to see past the misery of the last five years, as a witness I can only testify to the beauty of it all.
Death provides the greatest spiritual healing we can receive, not only for the one dying but for those who are closest as well. I saw God at work in the worst of it all. I saw His work again in a conversation between John’s children on the night of his burial. The experience of their father’s illness, deterioration, and death somehow served to filter their souls. It allowed them to let go of all the grievances and resentments they held on to about their father. It revealed and elevated the love they had for him, that was buried under years of weighted baggage. I have not seen them as close or as unified as they are now.
A week after John’s death, his wife sent me an article regarding a short story I shared with her a number of years ago. Her timing imparted holy bliss. The short story in question was, “Leaf by Niggle,” written by J. R. R. Tolkien. It’s about a man who, like most, is not prepared for his own death. Niggle, an artist, spends much of his life focused on a painting of a tree that he never finishes. He often procrastinates and ignores his other duties. Upon his death, he finds himself in an institution where he is assigned never ending tasks. In this purgatorial environment, and over an unknown period of time, he learns to embrace humility. He eventually moves on to the, “next stage,” where he is brought to a field. He quickly realizes it is the land of his painting. He sees the tree he spent much of his life painting fully manifested. He sees the forests and mountains in the distance. Overjoyed, he begins to cultivate the land. And, after he finishes his work, he decides to walk and press onward toward the mountains. The mountains serving as a biblical image of man ascending to communion with God.
Like Niggle, John was prone to neglect duties that weren’t of his own parochial concern. As a lawyer, he excelled and helped others with a moral fortitude I have yet to see in anyone else. He was a gatherer. He was full of wit and had a sense of humor most men would envy. However, as a husband and father, he struggled to fulfill more meaningful obligations. In spite of this failing, this man who was bedridden and without faculty, was at the height of his power. Through his suffering, his family has been healed. The bitterness has settled. I am confident that he is now walking toward those mountains, and that he is bound for glory. We can only hope to follow him.
“For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.”