Showing posts with label Death and Dying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death and Dying. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 05, 2014

A Blip on the Radar of Eternity

In Al Mohler’s book The Conviction to Lead he writes of 
. . . an old preacher [who] told a group of younger preachers to remember that they would die. “They are going to put you in a box,” he said, “and put the box in the ground, and throw dirt on your face, and then go back to the church and eat potato salad.” 
Here’s the point: As great as you can make yourself, as many wonderful things as you can accomplish in your lifetime — even religious things — it will all be a blip on the radar of eternity. You will become dust. The worms will eat you. Statistically speaking, since most of us will never accomplish such great things that history will laud throughout the ages, memory of us will start fading with our grandchildren. Our great grandchildren will (likely) not have any clue who we are. 
But! 
If you are bringing glory to Christ, not a thing about you is wasted, because the mission of the Spirit of God is to maximize the glory of Christ over all the universe. So that even at the end of days, as Revelation shows us, all the glorious kings of the nations in all their renown and splendor, file in one by one into the holy city to throw their crowns at the feet of Jesus. Revelation 21 reveals that the light of the new heavens and new earth comes not from the “sun” but from the “Son,” and the kings of the nations will bring their glory into it. 
There is the vision of greatness the redeemed of the Lord ought to aspire to. That he would increase and we would decrease. That our decrease would serve his increase! 
And those who are willing to lose their lives — whatever that might mean — for Christ’s sake, will find them. 
And from dust you will return.
Read the rest.

Tuesday, January 07, 2014

10 Things We Would Stop Doing If We Adopted Paul’s Cross-Shaped Resolution

David Burnette:
1)   We would stop judging people, circumstances, and events based on outward appearances. Things aren't always as they appear. The God who brought about salvation through the death of His Son turns the world’s expectations upside down. (1 Cor 1:18-20
2)  We would stop trying to win God's approval through our obedience. Christ's death dealt decisively with our sins, and God now views us as righteous in Him. You cannot add to a perfect sacrifice. (Gal 2:21
3)   We would stop trusting in our own resources to bring about spiritual transformation. It took the crucifixion of Christ to save us, and it will take the power of the gospel to make us more like Jesus. The cross and resurrection are essential to the daily pursuit of holiness. (Rom 6:10-11
4)   We would stop worrying about being clever in our presentation of the gospel. Power belongs to God and His message, not the messenger. There is no smooth way to talk about a bloody cross. (1 Cor 1:17
5)  We would stop considering some people to be beyond God's reach. There is no one whose sin can outmatch the grace of God in the gospel. Christ's death is more than sufficient for the vilest offender. (1 Tim 1:16
6)  We would stop being surprised that our witness isn’t received warmly. At the heart of the gospel is the emphatic rejection of King Jesus. Why would his servants expect to be treated differently? (Jn 15:20
7)   We would stop expecting ease and comfort in this life to be the norm. Suffering, hardship, and opposition only make sense when you follow in the footsteps of the Man of Sorrows. (Lk 9:57-62
8)   We would stop worrying so much about the details our lives. God was willing to give His own Son for us. Why would he be unwilling to take care of everything else? (Rom 8:32
9)   We would stop thinking highly of ourselves and looking down on others. If the death of Christ was necessary for our rescue, what do we have to boast about? The cross levels the playing field, for all of us are debtors to God's infinite mercy. 
10)  We would stop fearing death. The crucifixion put death to death, so those in Christ now have the sure hope of the resurrection and eternal life. (Heb 2:14-15)

Thursday, September 19, 2013

How to Mourn with the Parents of Stillborn and Miscarried Children


  1. Be content simply to "mourn with those who mourn" (Rom. 12:15). Know that your words of comfort will not be much consolation in the short run, even if you have experienced miscarriage yourself. As with most other kinds of loss, each person's experience is profoundly different.
  2. Don't try to be the hero. Your may desire to utter just the right words that will bring healing and resolution to mom and dad's pain. But that desire may arise more from your own struggle to reconcile the reality of death with the hope of Christ than from the need of those suffering to hear your words.
  3. Remember mom. Her pain will linger after most people have ceased asking about it. Don't be afraid to broach the subject and encourage her six, nine, or even twelve months after the fact.
  4. Remember dad. A miscarriage is not a set of circumstances in which mom suffers the pain and dad gives support. It's tempting to think that mom bears all the pain, but a father feels helpless in his own way. He needs much love and encouragement.
  5. Be patient.  My wife and I have struggled over and over again to choose worship and dependence rather than despair or indifference. Sometimes we have failed. Be patient with those who seem not to be "getting over" their loss. Pray for the truth of God's goodness to break through. Love, love, love on your friends who have lost.
  6. Read them the Psalms. Just pick them up and start reading. They give lyrical shape to the confusion, anger, pain, relief, hope, and every other possible emotion the suffering feel. Reading the Psalms helps us to live emotionally with a doxological mindset. Psalm 34 has been a key text for me.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

H.E.L.P. - How to Minister to Those Grieving

Doug Wolter offers a very helpful acronym for ministering to those who are grieving from the loss of a loved one.
H – Hope not answers. When people are in the midst of suffering, they need hope more than answers. Hope is not found in solving the problem, but running to a person. Jesus. We may not know why everything happens, but we can hope in the person who understands suffering more than anyone and sympathizes with us in it.

E – Enter into their pain. Empathize with them. Did you know that grieving with someone can be the single most helpful expression of love and care? Weep with them. Just be there for them and be with them.

L – Listen to them & Love them in tangible ways. Seek to understand their situation. James 1:19 says, “Be quick to listen and slow to speak.” If you must speak, tell them, “I am standing with you. I am grieving with you.” And love them in tangible ways. Make a meal. Offer a small gift. Spend time with them.

P – Pray for them and Patiently walk w/them through the long journey of suffering. In the deepest of suffering, some may find it hard to even pray. We can intercede for them and carry this burden. And oftentimes, after the initial help has arrived, we forget the one who is suffering over time. But this is when the church is even more needed. To patiently walk with them and be with them through the long road of suffering.

Friday, April 26, 2013

Blessed - Matthew 5:4

An amazing story from Brazil. (RSS click through to view.)

Blessed | Matthew 5:4 from Moving Works on Vimeo.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Dead as a Doornail


Barnabas Piper:
Without death Easter celebrates a comeback, not a miracle. Without a realization of Jesus’ death Easter celebrates the unexpected rather than the impossible. Without a real death there isn’t a real resurrection. Without a real resurrection there isn’t a real point in being a Christian—no hope, no future, no perfect new creation. So Jesus’ death matters. It cannot be underplayed and can scarcely be overplayed. He spend three days breathless, brain-dead, heart-beatless, and decaying. Then He was alive. And, yes, He died for our sins, to give us life. To give us life after death—like Him.
Read the rest.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Death and the Language of Victory


Mockingbird Blog:
Jim Valvano (most likely known to non-sports fans as the namesake of the Jimmy V Foundation, a cancer research supporter which has given away hundreds of millions of dollars to fight the disease) was the subject of the latest ESPN 30-for-30 documentary, “Survive and Advance,” which premiered on Sunday night. The doc is about the unlikely path-to-a-championship of the 1983 North Carolina State Wolfpack, coached by Valvano, which included nine consecutive must-win games, many of which came down to the final seconds. The team’s run (the final basket in the championship game was recognized by Sports Illustrated and ESPN as the “greatest moment in the history of college basketball) was fascinating, but also typical, in a Disney film sort of way. It played out in exactly the way Michael Eisner might have recommended. What’s interesting to me is how the documentary treats Valvano’s illness and eventual death.

Naturally, Valvano’s diagnosis, foundation-founding, and eventual death are a major part of this story. Jonathan Hock, the director, has said that one of the things that interested him most about this story was that it was a wonderful tale of triumph after triumph being told about the life of “a doomed man.”

Interviewee after interviewee (Valvano’s players, wife, and friends, which include such luminaries as Mike Krzyzewski, Dick Vitale and Sonny Vaccaro) told of how, when Valvano was diagnosed with cancer, they thought — no, they assumed — he’d “beat it.” This is the language we use with cancer: the language of victory. I saw a post on Facebook recently in which a young boy wanted 100,000 “likes” because he’d “beaten” cancer. Valvano’s friends all spoke of being shocked as he became sicker, and ultimately astonished at his death. They’d thought he would win.

Even Jim Valvano died. The Facebook boy might have beaten cancer, but he hasn’t beaten death. No one has, or ever will. Well, except this one guy.

As humans, our most desperate wish is to win. We try to win everything, up to and including the ultimate contest: us against our own deaths. The profundity of the cross is that it looks death in the face and confronts it directly. The cross is the end of the human contest. We lose. Even Jim Valvano lost. No one “survives and advances.”

God, in Christ, brings victory out of defeat. God, in Christ, brings life out of death. We all die, but in Christ, we have the hope — no, the promise — of new and eternal life.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Does Heaven Sound Boring To You?

Russell Moore:
Your eternity is no more about looking back to this span of time than your life now is about reflecting on kindergarten. The moment you burst through the mud above your grave, you will begin an exciting new mission—one you couldn’t comprehend if someone told you. And those things that seem so important now—whether you’re attractive or wealthy or famous or cancer-free—will be utterly irrelevant in the face of an exhilarating new purpose, one that you were prepared for in this era but one that is far more than a mere sequel to your best life now.

Let’s talk about eternity. But it’s no mere “afterlife.” Instead let’s start thinking of this little puff of time, the next eighty or so years, as what it is: the pre-life.
Read the rest.

Books by Russell Moore:

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Responding To Grief

A mother's reflection on the tragic death of her daughter.  How do you grieve well?

1. Spend time in God’s word every day.
2. Listen to music that can express what my mouth cannot.
3. Exercise
Click over to read her reflections on these points.

(HT:  Chris Brauns)

Friday, September 21, 2012

Remember, You Can't Take It With You

NBC News:

When Walter Samaszko Jr. died at his home in Carson City, Nev., he had $200 in a bank account. But as officials later discovered, Samaszko had about $7 million stored neatly around his home, the Nevada Appeal reported.

In late June, neighbors called authorities because of a smell emanating from Samaszko’s home. He was a recluse who had told them he hated the government and feared getting shots, but still, it had been a while since they had seen him, according to the Appeal.

According to the coroner, Samaszko, 69, had been dead for at least a month. He died of heart problems, the Las Vegas Sun reported.

In came the cleanup crews, which discovered boxes of gold in the garage.
“At that point, we took the house apart,” said Carson City clerk-recorder Alan Glover.

They found gold coins and bullion, tiny dos-pesos, $20 gold pieces, Austrian ducats, Kruggerrands and English Sovereigns dating to the 1840s – enough gold to fill two wheelbarrows.
(HT:  Randy Alcorn)

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

A Smiling Providence in Aurora

Denny Burk recounts a powerful testimony from the carnage of Aurora.

Friday, May 25, 2012

Why Facebook Removed Photos of a Baby

Karen Swallow Prior:

When Time’s July 2010 cover featured a portrait of a disfigured 18-year-old Afghan woman whose nose and ears had been cut off by her Taliban husband, the magazine was awarded the World Press Photo organization's 2010 Photo of the Year.

When Heather Walker posted pictures of her newborn anencephalic son, Grayson, on Facebook, the web site took the photos down and temporarily disabled her account.
Read the rest.



We can't stand to face our mortality.

Tuesday, May 08, 2012

On The Death of the Author of "Where The Wild Things Are"

Russell Moore:
At the time the book was published, the psychiatrist Bruno Bettelheim said the scary nature of the story wasn’t found with the wild things at all. It was found in the “time out” in the room itself. Being sent to one’s room alone, and without food, he argued, represents desertion, the worst threat a child can face. And maybe that’s what Sendak feared the worst.

Those are the fears addressed by the gospel. Like children frightened by wild things, we retreat backward into the “spirit of slavery” and so “fall back into fear” (Rom. 8:15). The gospel, though, reminds us, all life long, that we have one who has gone ahead “as a forerunner” (Heb. 6:20). We hear a voice telling us to be “strong and courageous” for “I will not leave you or forsake you” (Josh. 1:5), no matter how wild you feel inside. He’s the only one with the authority to tell the devils who accuse us to “be gone.”

Maurice Sendak plumbed our ancient problem. I can only hope that, somewhere in those final moments, he saw the demon-crushing cross of Jesus. I hope he saw the one who went out beyond the gates of Jerusalem, to where the wild things are, and became king of all the wild things, forever.
Read the rest here.

Buy the book here.

Dr. Moore's books:
Tempted and Tried
Adopted for Life
The Kingdom of Christ

Monday, March 05, 2012

"It’s that feeling where you hold your breath without knowing it and you feel your heart beating inside your head."

It’s not that difficult to tell when someone has something he needs to tell you but really doesn’t want to—you can almost always sense the news coming. It’s the same feeling you have right before a news broadcaster interrupts the regularly scheduled programming for a special message. Or when your spouse is talking on the telephone to someone in grave, hushed tones, only to hang up and invite you to “have a seat. I have some- thing to tell you.” It’s that feeling where you hold your breath without knowing it and you feel your heart beating inside your head.

Dr. Collins had ordered a blood test after examining Joshua; while the blood test came and went, I tried to keep a two-year-old preoccupied in the prison-cell-sized examination room. We played with trucks. Then we played with a lot of medical instruments that I’m sure we weren’t supposed to touch. Joshua ate one strip of his sandwich. Then the doc- tor came back. He sat across from me. Looking at him, I
subconsciously held my breath. My heart started beating in my head. Why was I nervous? We had been to the doctor before. But something was different this time. Then he started saying words that I never expected to hear: “hematology,” “children’s hospital,” “call your wife.” Then he said the word that would become part of our everyday vocabulary at heartbreaking speed: leukemia.

What do you do with a word like that? How do you respond? What questions do you ask? I didn’t know; I still don’t know. But I think I do know that some words in our vocabulary are heavier than others, words that linger in the air long after they are said. They echo in your mind and pierce your heart over and over again, and when they are first spoken, they drop to the pit of your stomach like lead. Leukemia.

Two hours later Joshua was still playing with his trucks, but he was playing with them on the floor of an examination room at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital. My wife had joined us, and we were waiting for the results of a secondary blood test they had done. We didn’t speak. We didn’t cry—much. We hoped, we tried to pray, we wanted to believe. And then we had another sit-down moment.

Amid Joshua’s truck sound effects and laughter, we heard the confirmation that our two-and-a-half-year-old boy had a childhood cancer of the blood. And it felt as if someone had punched me as hard as they could in the gut. Leukemia. There was that word again, and there was the lead-heavy residue in the air. It echoed in my heart.

Over and over again the words punched. The emotion welled behind my eyes until I thought my head would explode. How could 82 percent of his blood cells be affected? He’s playing with trucks! How could he have cancer? I made him a sandwich this morning! And it wasn’t just the emotion that throbbed; it was the questions. So many questions that I didn’t even know where to begin.

There were the questions you’d expect:
  • Is Joshua going to die?
  • How can he be sick? He looks fine!
  • Isn’t it just a rash?
  • How do you treat leukemia?
  • What does this mean about the future?
But then there were the other questions:
  • Why this little boy, God?
  • How could You let this happen?
  • Is this punishment for something we have done?
  • Are You even real?
Joshua finished his sandwich, and I started to cry. I cried because there he was, eating his strips of PB & J the same way he had hundreds of times before. And while he ate, I wondered how many more times he would.
- Michael Kelley, Wednesdays Were Pretty Normal, p. 5-7

Monday, December 05, 2011

Sydney's Song


Four years ago, some dear friends of ours, Ian and Alyssa Byrd lost a child after seven months in the womb.  It was brutally painful for them and those us who love them.  Four years later, they have released a song called, "Sydney's Song".  Here is the description:
As we enter into our fourth year this week, Sydney's Song is finished. It is finally done. Brought to fruition from all those years ago, a hurting daddy wanting to put his feelings to music, his love language. The song has been picked over and tediously worked on by her daddy, four years of work, many hours, many many late nights, lots of tears and hurting prayers, worked on by ian, many friends, prayed for and even supported financially by so many who loved us and shared our vision for wanting this song to bless others in a 2 Corinthians 1 kind of way.....
I would encourage you to click over and take a listen and pass it around.  Proceeds will go towards their newly announced plans to adopt!

Wednesday, June 08, 2011