Among the most sacred duties of pastoral service is that of ministering
to those who are near death and honoring them after they have passed into
eternity. This week it has been my honor
to be engaged in this sweet and severe duty for two members of the congregation
I serve. One dear member, full of years, passed suddenly in his wife’s arms,
crossing the River after a life characterized by service, selflessness,
kindness and love. The other, passed
away after a determined 5-year battle with pancreatic cancer, still praising
her God to the end, voicing her love for Him, her family and those of us who
visited her in her last hours with all the vigor she could muster – a warrior
of love to the very end.
By this stage in my ministry life, I do not know how many sacred
scenarios like this I have been honored to witness, but I do know that my heart
continues to be moved in every case and that I remember details of most of the end
of life scenarios of which I’ve been a part.
I can recall my first ministry involvement for a funeral as a very young
lay-leader in ministry, serving as a soloist and Bible reader for a fallen
soldier who had been killed in an airplane crash in Gander, Newfoundland that
claimed his life and the lives of over 250 other Peacekeepers from the 101st
Airborne Division in December of 1985. I remember the first death of a congregation
member I experienced as a pastor on a night of record snowfall in Cleveland,
OH, when I drove a very rickety Yugo vehicle in impossible conditions to be
with the family of this precious member and then burying her a few days later
in record below zero conditions. I also
remember the first funeral performed in our newly formed congregation in
Detroit, Michigan, when our tiny congregation, my family and I buried our
daughter – Samantha-Luz Bautista Jackson on a painful, cold, barren winter Day,
as my mind reeled and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever smile from my heart again.
The solemnity of a human being’s death smashes through the
callouses of familiarity – if one allows it to – and has the power to link
souls together in an experience that can never be precisely duplicated. An openness to experience the reality of the
pain, rather than hide it, can potentially give one the capacity to actually
feel more alive than one might feel without ever having experienced the pain of
loss. The special and hallowed nature of being with a person and their family
in those last moments or in the days after their traverse to “The Other Side”
has the ability to yank one’s soul from complacency and has the power to stir
one’s spirit to take advantage of every opportunity to engage life, as the brevity
and limitations of one’s lifespan are made evident in the passing of
another.
All of these thoughts occupy my mind as I carry out my most
solemn pastoral duty. I do not consider
my duty or these accompanying thoughts as a burden or bother – I consider them
a blessing and an indication that the Lord has kept my heart tender enough to
make a difference in serving others. I challenge you to engage those who are hurting
and to risk the pain of suffering by getting close to those who are in the
midst of experiencing pain. You will not
emerge unscathed and you will be wounded and scarred. Yet, you will find that
the most painful experiences can also shape you with your scars to emerge with
a deeper appreciation for the gift of life and a deeper compassion for those
who struggle as they live it.
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