Some Recent Deaths NOT in the News

I don't ordinarily post e-mail "junk" but this one struck a particular chord with me. As I stated in an earlier post, I have had enough tabloid news. I certainly feel for the Jackson, Fawcett, McNair and Mays families but considering we've heard next to nothing about the deaths mentioned below I felt I could at least do my part to mention them. Thank you to the real "icons" of the very best of America!

"With no disrespect intended to the Jackson family, we should remember that others have also died this month, whose lives are every bit as significant as Michael Jackson. Others whose lives were cut short and who leave behind loved ones and whose families will dearly miss them; families who will suffer silently with no TV fanfare and with much more dignity and honor.

These American military members died in Iraq this month:

Sergeant Justin J. Duffy
Specialist Christopher M. Kurth
Specialist Charles D. Parrish
Lance Corporal Robert D. Ulmer
Staff Sergeant Edmond L. Lo
Sergeant Joshua W. Soto
Captain Kafele H. Sims
Specialist Chancellor A. Keesling

Image by Getty Images via Daylife

And these members of our U.S.
Armed Forces died in Afghanistan this month:
Sergeant Jones, Ricky D.
Specialist Munguia Rivas, Rodrigo A.
Command Master Chief Petty Officer Garber, Jeffrey J.
1st Sergeant Blair, John D.
Sergeant Smith, Paul G.
Staff Sergeant Melton, Joshua
Sergeant 1st Class Dupont, Kevin A.
Specialist O'Neill, Jonathan C.
Chief Warrant Officer Richardson Jr., Ricky L.
Specialist Silva, Eduardo S.
Lance Corporal Whittle, Joshua R.
Major Barnes, Rocco M.
Major Jenrette, Kevin M.
Staff Sergeant Beale, John C.
Specialist Jordan, Jeffrey W.
Specialist Griemel, Jarrett P.
Specialist Hernandez I, Roberto A.
Sergeant Obakrairur, Jasper K.
Staff Sergeant Hall, Jeffrey A.
Private 1st Class Ogden, Matthew D.
Private 1st Class Wilson, Matthew W.

Let's remember and honor this day those whose deaths are truly impacting our Freedom and Liberty."

Enough Tabloid News!

OK. Michael Jackson died. Is there anybody on the planet who doesn't know this now? I've got it. We can move on to other news now if it's ok with everybody. I'm not interested in his autopsy report. I'm not concerned about his toxicology screening. As for the kids, common sense says Mom gets them unless there is some mitigating circumstance making that an unhealthy choice (i.e. Mom is currently serving time on child abuse charges).

I feel like the police officer at an accident, "There's nothing to see here people, lets move on."

Please understand I am not a Michael Jackson hater. Deeply disturbed by his behavior in recent years but felt more pity than ire. I remember my cousin Danny gathering us all in the living room to see the "Thriller" video. It was a huge event that everybody was talking about and still talks about. I too turned up the radio when "Smooth Criminal" hit the airwaves. But I must tell you this is, in my step-father's signature line, "Too much sugar for a dime."

How can the tectonic shifts happening in Iran or the ominous rocket saber rattlings of North Korea or the bank breaking health care plan or any number of other issues of importance be pushed to page two or three? Just another sign of the apocalypse I suppose.

When our culture is more concerned with celebrity than clarity, I believe it's a pretty good indicator that we've lost our way. Enough with the tabloid news. Save it for the tabloids. Can we get back to the things that affect the way our lives are lived?

About the Photo

This bell tower belongs to the Cades Cove Primitive Baptist Church now preserved in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Though now nothing more than a museum it stands as a continuing testimony to the faith of the people who settled this beautiful valley in the southern Appalachian mountains. In fact, driving the 11 mile Cades Cove loop is something of an annual pilgrimage for my family and a stop at this church is a must on our trip. My Beloved is drawn to the cemetery as it chronicles the difficult and tragic lives of those who braved the wilderness to carve out a life. I am magnetically drawn to the edifice that once housed a thriving congregation.

As I sit in one of the rough pews in this little structure I am awe struck by a people compelled to invest energy in building such a place when it took such an immense effort to simply survive. Why would they do such a thing? Why not simply worship in homes or not at all?

Is it possible that their connection to the land instructed them about a deeper dependence?

Is it possible that this desperate group of pioneers was right in exerting unusual extravagance in a decidedly utilitarian existence to build a bell tower, not to outshine the Methodist's across the holler but to remind them to look up every now and then? Something tells me that this is near the mark. In lives marked by the steady rhythms of the seasons and the regular rhythm of work-6-days-and-rest-1 this tower served to guide them through each change and each fresh tragedy with the steady sureness of God.

I sit in that now empty church and strain to hear the hymns of praise being sung and the words of truth being proclaimed. Alas, there is only silence now. But in the stillness the voice of God whispers, "I AM." That marvelous bell tower continues to point heavenward, drawing the eyes of road weary tourists to look above the frustrations of traffic, noisy kids, flat tires, and the need to use the bathroom to consider the God who sustained these so long ago. Doubtless, some few stop long enough to hear.

So Death is Coming...

"This sombre series of portraits taken of people before and after they had died is a challenging and poignant study. The work by German photographer Walter Schels and his partner Beate Lakotta, who recorded interviews with the subjects in their final days, reveals much about dying - and living." Life Before Death, a photo essay by Walter Schels.

Above is a sample of a moving, disturbing, poignant series of photos that my friend Lucy brought to my attention. I have viewed the entire series on several occasions and am captured by the stories of each of the subjects, for indeed they are our stories. (I encourage you to do the same by clicking here or go to www.guardian.co.uk and search "Life Before Death & Walter Schels.) We live a myth of immortality which, though disturbed by the inconvenient intrusion of death from time to time, we are surprisingly adept at maintaining. This series of photos causes us to pause not with a morbid voyerism but with an unambiguous acknowledgement that we too will pass this way.

I found the wide variety of responses to death in those facing it squarely engaging. Some worldviews show through clearly (reincarnation, resurrection, anihilation, etc.) while others respond solely to the emotive power of the moment be it anger, great sadness, or ambivalence. In my experience with those facing death or walking this shadowed path with a loved one there is an equally wide ranging set of responses. I am often surprised by this as the vast majority of those I serve in these moments are immersed in a Christian worldview, yet thier responses in these moments are anything but the Christian understanding of this event. (I will address this in a later post...)

Very often when I officiate (what an interesting term...from the Latin, to provide divine service) a funeral I remind those gathered that this is a moment for solemn reflection as they too will someday have their name at the head of an obituary column. What then is to be done with the life we are given to live? Moses put his request before God in these words, "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." (Psalm 90:12).

So, death is coming. An unavoidable question arises, are you, am I, living in such a manner as to be fully prepared for this approaching moment?

A Most Unpleasant Companion

Death....a great Leveler -- a king before whose tremendous majesty shades & differences in littleness cannot be discerned -- an Alp from whose summit all small things are the same size.
- Mark Twain, Letter to Olivia Clemens, 10/15/1871

Surely as the sun rises in the east and summarily sets in the west, so too we are assured that every birth is, at some time, accompanied by a death. It is perplexing that in the ever present company of so familiar a companion we are intensely restless, ill at ease, on edge, if you will. We do our best to dress it up, cover its stench, and blunt its edge; fruitless efforts all.

Death in nice clothing is still death.

Death doused in the fragrance of roses and carnations still reeks of wrongness.

Death called by other, more genteel names ("a passing," "pushing up daisies," "crossed over," "kicked the bucket," "gave up the ghost," etc.), is still that hated and tireless pursuer who must surely catch us all.

Entire industries have sprung up in this frightful specter's wake. Many seek a futile combat with this foe with only one loss (so far) on its record. Others dream dreams of taming this unruly behemoth. It is a tragic comedy to make the Bard greenly envious of its compelling story line. Witness the endless parade of "anti-aging" and "rejuvenating" products. What a desperate deception we foist upon ourselves! These products simply empower the lie we tell ourselves that there is no such thing as the boogey-man, when we know, all too certainly, that this boogey-man is real and it will catch us.

It is truly no respecter of men, for not only will it catch us, it will also catch those we love and those we hate and all those in between. It will catch the old and catch the young. Some with startling suddenness and others with agonizing, even glacial, patience. Some will be caught with stomach wrenching violence while others are captured in a moment of uncanny, almost beautiful, peace. Yet the destination is the same, all are traveling on the same train, and there is no getting off before the final station.

How then shall we come to terms with this dreadful companion? How are we to cope with the certain grief at an uncertain time? Are there possible answers to this impossible circumstance? Dare we hope in the face of such a daunting adversary? Good questions all and I will seek to address some of them over the next few posts.

"Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind, therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee." John Donne - Meditation XVII

Dead for 3 days. Alive for 2000+ years!

"As surely as Pontius Pilate was a real historical figure, so was Jesus of Nazareth. As surely as the cross really happened, so did the resurrection become it joyous outcome...In contrasting the importance of the cross and the resurrection, we need to remind ourselves that Christ was dead for only 3 days, but he has now been alive for tow thousand years. We need to recall to consciousness that his return from the grave is the all-important victory that has kept Christianity out of the graveyard of other lofty philosophies and religions.

"The risen Christ, made alive again by his Father's power, is the only reason we have for remembering the cross. So we must forget the "Messiah of the media,: who talses so much film to die and so little to rise again. The resurrection is too important to be shelved as an "incidental" area of Jesus' existence and teaching.

"The resurrection is the glorious crown of triubph on the exalted head of tragedy. The despair of Good Friday has been superseded by Christ's return to life. The outcome of the cross is that he has overcome death."

Calvin Miller, Once Upon a Tree

The Man With No Hope

I was in a convenience store the other day getting my wife's coffee (hers is green, comes in a 20 oz. bottle, and is made by Pepsi) and as I was standing in line to check out I overheard the following conversation between a gentleman in line and the cashier.

"Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year to you too. Yours has got to be better than mine."

"Why do you say that?" (as she scans the the things he is purchasing)

"I just found out I have cancer."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. What are you going to do?"

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do, I'm gonna' party my ass off." (pays for his items and walks out the door)

I groaned inwardly for this gentleman and silently lifted a prayer for him. I deal regularly with sickness and death. Often it is up close and personal as I sit in hospital waiting rooms with family or as I stand by bedsides with hospice nurses hovering nearby. However, most often I am alongside members of my church family; people who have hope. Hearing this man's desperate declaration reminded me that many in this world live without hope.

I wonder about this man who is now "partying his ass off". I wonder how he will deal with his hopelessness when he finds moments of sobriety. I wonder how he will face the reality of his situation in those mornings when he finds himself alone and still facing the specter of death. I wonder what happens when the dull ache of emptiness presses through the haze of alcohol or drugs.

Dallas Willard accurately observes that "loneliness is loose upon the landscape. In haunts the penthouse and the rectory, the executive suite and the millionaire's mansion, as well as the barren apartment, the assembly line, the cocktail bar and the city streets. It is the leprosy of the modern world." (from Hearing God, emphasis added)

"So remember your Creator while you are still young, before those dismal days and years come when you will say, " I don't enjoy life." That is when the light of the sun, the moon, and the stars will grow dim for you, and the rain clouds will never pass away. Then your arms, that have protected you, will tremble, and your legs, now strong, will grow weak. Your teeth will be too few to chew your food, and your eyes too dim to see clearly. Your ears will be deaf to the noise of the street. You will barely be able to hear the mill as is grinds or music as it plays, but even the song of a bird will wake you from sleep. You will be afraid of high places, and walking will be dangerous. You hair will turn white; you will hardly be able to drag yourself along,and all desire will be gone.

We are going to our final resting place, and then there will be mourning in the streets. The silver chain will snap, and the golden lamp will fall and break; the rope at the well will break, and the water jar will be shattered. Our bodies will return to the dust of the earth, and the breath of life will go back to God, who gave it to us. Vanity, vanity, says the preacher, all is vanity.

After all this, there is only one thing to say: Have reverence for God and obey his commands, for this is the whole duty of man."

(Ecclesiastes 12:1-8 and 13 GNB)

Homecoming Joy

One of the great joys of the Christmas season is going home. Many will leave big cities and travel to small hamlets scattered across this great land; some finding their way back to home places that have been in the family for generations. There are a few of us who will find ourselves celebrating the home going of loved ones. I am one such person this season.

Just this morning I stood by the bedside of a sainted lady in our church mere moments after she had taken her last breath. She was 5 days shy of spending 94 years on this earth and had consistently wondered for the last several years why God had left her here so long. Widowed for 60+ years, no children, and little other family remaining she had not outlived she felt quite lonely. However she never felt alone. This dear woman always shared about the nearness of God in her life. I often listened with rapt attention to her accounts of God's nearness longing for that same, irrefutable sense of His presence. Her words to me were, "But you are so busy, and I have nothing to do." I knew then, and I certainly know now, who was the one more blessed.

Several years ago my youngest son accompanied my wife and I to a funeral. He was 4 1/2 and intensely interested in the solemn proceedings of the day. As the graveside "Amen" was said and others were hugging family and sharing some final words of kindness Clayton was insistent that we move to the graveside. I obliged and took him to where the casket was about to be lowered into the ground. He very studiously peered into the hole in the ground for several moments. His curiosity satisfied he took my hand and we began to walk away. After a moment he said, "Dad, I don't think I like heaven." I sank to one knee looking into his intelligent eyes and said, "Oh, son, heaven is not a hole in the ground!" Taking him into my arms I shared with him what a wonderful place heaven is for those who know and love the Lord. It is a moment, with my son, which I cherish.

In the midst of this Christmas celebration there will be those who go home. Some to houses full of laughter and joy. Some to homes prepared for them by the hands of the Maker Himself. "I go to prepare a place for you, if it were not so I would have told you." (John 14:2) Joy shall reign.



For more advent reading check these blogs...

• Brother Maynard
• Lainie Petersen
• Peggy Brown
• Sonja
• Adam Copeland
• John the Shepherd
• Rob Robinson
• Christine Sine
• Lori Bjerkander
• Glenn Jordan
• Julie Clawson
• Cindy Bryan
• Robin Dugall
• Lyn Hallewell
• J. Michael Matkin
• Eric G.
• (Formerly Emerging) Grace
• Matt Stone

A View to a Kill

This isn't James Bond. It's a heart wrenching view on the war in Iraq. Sobering. Whether you or I agree with everything Omar says in this post it reminded me that behind all of the rhetoric there are people. Let's never forget that.

Read it here.

Moving Day

Spent Saturday moving my mother-in-law. It was a physically and emotionally draining day for all of us. This was no simple move. It was a family exercise in grieving. You see, my father-in-law passed away in February and we are still processing what life looks like without him in it. Now it looks like a new house. One that doesn't have any memory of Papa.

It was difficult to pack up the last of the things at the river house and to close that door for the last time. The house may have been emptied of its furnishings but it was terribly crowded with memories (and still is). There was a lot of "I remember when..." happening. There were also a lot of quiet moments no one dared interrupt.

Perhaps the most difficult moment of all was when we came across the contents of Papa's night stand. We just couldn't bring ourselves to go through those personal items. Somehow the place and time were just not right. Grief for another day I suppose. Same furniture. Different place. Wrong time.

It was good for the family to be together on this day. We created the first memories for this new place. We pray it will be the first among many good memories. Welcome home Nana.

How Many Do You Have?

Vapor. Mist. A passing shadow. Grass that has been cut. Smoke.

These are only a few of the images used in the Bible to describe the tenuous hold we have on life. We tend to think of our lives in terms of years. Long, comfortable periods of time marked by seasons and celebrations. The Bible repeatedly refers to our lives in terms of days. Short, staccato flashes of time that disappear as quickly as they come.

Years are luxurious.

Days are demanding.

Moses, in Psalm 90:12, asks God to "teach us to number our days aright that we may gain a heart of wisdom." Numbering our days. There's a thought. Have you considered how many you have? What if you only had a few remaining? Would you live any differently? I believe Moses understood the idea that the only day he had to live was the present one. To number our days correctly doesn't require the ability to count very high. If you can count to "one" then you have correctly numbered your days.

Are there any relationships in your life needing to be mended? Are there any loved ones to whom you need to say "I love you"? Are there any matters you need to put right with God? If you answered "Yes" to any of these questions (or the thousand others that would be applicable to your life), I challenge you to take action immediately. Sign off the World Wide Web and do it. You can surf later (maybe), but you may not have the opportunity to put these other matters right.

Number your days correctly. You have exactly one day to live.