Every Moment Holy
To Speak of Dying
“…death is a present and unavoidable reality, and one through which we –the people of God- must learn to openly walk with one another.
Yes, it is cause for lament. Death is a horrible and inevitable sorrow. It is grief. It is numb shock and raw pain and long seasons of weeping and ache. And we will experience it as such. But it is more than all of that.
For it is also a baptism, a prelude to a celebration.
Our true belief that Christ died and was raised again promises this great hope: That there will be a newness of life, a magnificent resurrection that follows death and swallows it entirely. Death will not have the final word, so we need to not fear to speak of it.” - Every Moment Holy
This last week I had the privilege of meeting for the first time in person a fellow Christian cancer patient. Joshua is a strong believer in his early 40’s with a beautiful wife and 10 children. We connected with Joshua and his wife Rebecca after he was diagnosed with an extremely rare, advanced cancer, and we now share both an oncologist and naturopathic doctor.
We had only talked on the phone once and connected on social media so when Joshua walked into the Dr’s office, I recognized his smile and introduced myself.
This first visit together; Joshua was feeling great and believed his recent hyperbaric chamber therapy was significantly improving his quality of life. The nurse was even impressed with the color in his face and the few pounds he was able to put back on. We got to chat for 20 minutes about God’s goodness, and the importance and vitality of church every week and how we both felt it sustained us in the darkest times, more than anything else.
The next week, Joshua and my appointments overlapped once again in the drip room. But this time, his health had clearly taken a turn for the worse.
He sat down in the recliner next to me, clearly in pain. “How’re you doing?” I asked.
“Well we got some not great news. My bloodwork just showed the cancer is growing and has stopped responding to chemo.”
I felt the instant gut punch of disappointment for him. “Oh no, I’m so sorry” the only simple words I could get out.
“Yeah, I’m in so much pain, I can feel it, radiating pain up and down my body. We had to increase the pain meds and I’m back on the Fentanyl patch.”
It was so hard to see him living out my “worst case scenario”, in so much pain, adjusting in his recliner to try and ease his discomfort. The most gripping thing about Joshua in that moment? As we sat there and talked and he paused in between deep surges of pain, what defined his demeanor was a calm, sweet peace. He was not angry, or dismal.
When his pain was increasing and he was leaning over one of those long disposable barf bags, I watched as he rested his head on his forearm. Through Joshua sharing his story with me and testifying to the hard things he had already come through; I knew prayer was important to him. I asked if he wanted to pray. He said yes. What proceeded was nothing eloquent, only plain and simply asking God for mercy in the moment.
I couldn’t help but fight back the tears as I prayed a prayer I have uttered hundreds of times, but for myself.
What got me though, was Joshua’s prayer for me.
His selflessness and caring were awe inspiring. He prayed for my family, my health, and my walk with Christ. The exact specifics of what he prayed evade me though, I was just overwhelmed by the moment and listening to his humility before the Lord, I felt gratitude listening to the prayers of a man clearly living not focusing on bleak circumstances but in light of hope and newness of life to come.
Here I was, nervous and scared on his behalf, while he was quiet and trusting. The contrast I felt was striking.
Grace for the Hypothetical
Whenever I am tempted to worry about the “what if’s” for years Jamison has been telling me:
“God does not give grace for the hypothetical”
This came to my mind as I sat there with Joshua. I am an outside observer for what he is going through. God has given him grace for his journey, and when I can relate so much to what someone is going through, I know the fears and worries that can come along with that, and there is the temptation to fear for them. It is almost like an unraveling effect when I start to doubt on behalf of someone else.... It can bleed over into personal doubt, fear and worry that I have been training against for years now in my own life.
This experience with Joshua has really caused me to reconsider the weight and significance of Paul’s instruction in Galatians 6:2 “Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”
In this journey, in my world of cancer patients, there are always these sad and grueling truths, competing and blending in a bittersweet song, like a melody with its harmony; love and sorrow; Joy and pain; trust and unknown. These are constantly circling and colliding with each other, and I feel like I am often just watching to see what will be most dominant in the end.
Repeatedly, it is Christ who weaves these sometimes-dissonant notes into a beautiful piece. It is always the gospel shown through on the face of every believer who is truly suffering. The Gospel is what shines through with such great loss and hardship. It is truly a tear-jerking, heart-wrenching experience of a life that is this human experience we all live. It’s the imperfection of our current condition yearning for the time where we get to go to The Perfect One.
I hope with Joshua for healing and physical restoration. I have hope in the God who heals to grant that to him in this time of pain. His example amid this temporary pain has challenged me though. I see a child of God, trusting in Him in the midst of suffering, and it reminds me to see death as God sees it; as “the prelude to celebration”.
We “must learn to openly walk with one another” through it, for we are all headed for magnificent resurrection with Christ.