Death is not a strictly taboo subject in our American culture, though here in China it is very rarely talked about. I don't know if that's because most people here have little or no tools in their heart-mind (this is a Chinese word that encompasses both the heart and the mind, xin, pronounced 'sheen'; I prefer it to just heart or mind, seeming to reflect more of the whole person) for dealing with the grief, loss, fear and/or anxiety about it.
Though not taboo like in China we don't often feel its presence in American culture, and there seems to be a certain uneasiness about it. We do our best to ignore it, play our music louder than the nagging reminders we see on T.V. or even experience in our own lives. Through things like computer games we try to trivialize it's impact, creating the temporary illusion that we'll just respawn in 30 seconds, to go on another killing rampage. Even the nearness of real death through the media can numb our heart-minds to its chilling reality. Sixty or seventy years ago you would never have seen photographs of such horrors as a pile of bodies on the sidewalk, reminders of the all-too recent earthquake that struck Haiti. But flipping through any Time or Newsweek today you're bound to find a photo collage that features death, and on the next page a Toyota ad that emphasizes the power you could feel while driving it, or some nasty perfume that your great-great grandmother wore to feel younger (again, avoiding impending death).
But it is a specter that cannot be ignored for too long.
Several events have recently reawakened my perception of the nearness of Death. A good friend recently returned home for a short visit to gather with his family around his dying father. The funeral was ten days ago. Emily and I had the privilege of meeting this glorious saint earlier this year, while he was visiting his son and daughter-in-law (our friends) in Hong Kong. He was in his late eighties, and though somewhat frail, the spark of life was in his eyes. I'm sure that spark is a blazing fire, now that he's in the arms of Jesus. Our friends were kind enough to include us in their journey by sending several email updates; one, particularly, of an unspeakably intense, beautiful, worshipful time just days before his translation into the Joy of the presence of Jesus.
The second is a much longer story, of my uncle Mike (sorry if I butcher the story Mike, and Stevens; feel free to comment and correct). In my own mind I think of him as Miracle Mike. I don't recall all the details very clearly, but his life has been one of what I consider unparalleled grace and kindness. He was diagnosed with melanoma that had already developed to a stage where the doctors pretty much guaranteed 6 months. That was about 15 years ago. Through treatment and God's grace it went into remission and was largely forgotten about.
He suffered (if I remember right) two strokes, one while he was on a retreat in the mountains of So. Cal., and only a stop at a fireman's station on the way down to give him some form of mild rat poison that sometimes works to stop the stroke saved him that time. I'm also pretty sure he suffered more than one heart attack. The most recent one, about two years ago, literally killed him for an hour. The medics came, and after an unusual six or seven defibrillations, his heart started beating again. He was dead, once. When I saw him just a couple months later he was riding a bike again, looking healthy. The doctors told him, "we don't know how your heart keeps beating, it's so floppy."
Most recently, two or three months ago, the melanoma that was supposed to kill him fifteen years ago was discovered to have returned. When they found it, it had already progressed far far beyond anything that medicine could do. The doctor gave him two weeks to two months. His courageous wife, Cheri, would update us from time to time of his slowly deteriorating exterior condition, as well as the strengthening of his inner condition. He had not walked with God for many years. But God has used a number of events and experiences during these recent months to call Mike's heart back to him. He repented of his living life apart from the Lord, and God fully restored him, giving him full confidence of faith and a heart of love. These most recent days Mike has been longing and longing to step into the arms of his Loving Savior, and just this morning we received an email that his hope and his joy was made complete early Friday morning.
The third story is very brief. A friend of a friend back home, in his late twenties I believe, was hit by a truck while on his bike and taken into eternity. I did not know him, but I know my friend and it has been a very deep loss.
These are three stories that have awakened thoughts in me. You could say, it is this one of the questions that philosophy tries to answer, and why I find it so fun. If all we do is live and die, what's the point? And what about that in-between time; what are we to do with it in light of such unpredictable circumstances of our lives?
To top this all off I just received a package from my mother-in-law (Yay!!! Thanks Mom!) with several books I had ordered and she forwarded on. One is a book by Francis Chan. If you haven't heard of him, he's a dynamic preacher from So. Cal., and very passionate about the questions above. I was flipping through the book and at the back it has an 'interview with the author'. One of the questions was: There is an urgency in your message. Where does this come from?
Here's his response:
I think from two things. One, I'm doing funerals just about every week. A lot of these funerals are people younger than I am, and so many of them are unexpected. Seeing the shock of their loved ones and realizing God can take your life any time gives me a sense of urgency.
The other is my upbringing. My mom died giving birth to me; my stepmom died when I was nine; my dad died when I was twelve. I learned that there might not be a tomorrow. I always want this to be the greatest message I'll preach in case I'm not here to give another one...
And so i encountered death yet again, in a book.
I don't know about you, but it stirs in me a strong desire, like Francis Chan's, to live this moment as if it were my last. The father of my friend lived a long life in worship to God and ended his days well, my uncle was given numerous extensions on his life until just the right time, and my friend's friend probably didn't have a chance to look both ways.
We can't predict when our time will come. Some of us are given an opportunity to put a few things in order, some have less than a heartbeat's time.
I know this is uncommon. It can be easy to forget how near we are to death. At this moment. And this one. And this one.
And it does no good to curl up in the fetal position and cry or scream. Death comes no more quickly or slowly.
How will you live today? And do you have hope for tomorrow?
Hoping and praying for you,
jc
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