A little bit of death
Tom loved Sarah ever since the first grade. How could he avoid it? Not only did she have gorgeous blue-green eyes, the kind you could dive into and swim forever, she obviously adored him. She wanted to talk to him, spent all their time with him and in big-eyed trust told all her secrets to him. He was destined to love her so it was no surprise that they went through school together, attended the same college, couldn’t keep themselves from one another so nobody batted an eye when they announced one day that they’d be married soon.
The early years were joy-filled and this pair that loved life took a dive into it and had a whale of a time. Tough times rolled around—times when illness came calling and a lack of money pressed them sore but nothing made a dent in their relationship. Sarah was fond of saying, “A little bit of trouble isn’t going to harm two people like us!” and he’d grin and agree. If God ever made two people gifted with love for one another—a love that was tough and tender and deep and strong—if God ever made such people he had made this couple.
He was thirty-five when they got the devastating news. After a routine medical examination which led to other non-routine tests the doctor told him he had cancer. At first they simply looked at one another, stupefied. From there they moved to pained denial. What would cancer be doing in a man like this? They had four thousand reasons why it couldn’t be true—the doctors were wrong but second and third opinions only confirmed the original horror story.
After the initial shock they dived into the medical and nutrition books. Their prayers became more fervent and frequent—and more specific. They were on an emotional roller-coaster; confident that he would be all right and then fearful that he might not be; sure that God could heal him but uncertain that God would want to. But how could God say no? Too many people were praying for him—too many good people. “Prayer warriors” were devoting nights and days to imploring God to make Tom well. Letters and emails were pouring in from all over, assuring them that they were not forgotten, telling them stories of God’s goodness. These were all friends of God and surely God would take their heart’s desire into account.
But Sarah and Tom knew their Bible and life and they knew of many for whom anguished prayers went up to heaven; prayers that didn’t bring what was asked for.
The weeks became months and matters grew worse. It was clear that Tom was sinking and although there was no faith crisis—God was still God and God was still good—the tears were flowing. The nights were too long and yet the mornings came too soon; weariness and fear insinuated things they didn’t believe, things they forcefully renounced—including disappointment with God. Still, Sarah couldn’t dismiss the feeling that God was letting her down…No, he wasn’t wrong but surely…
The hospital, the chemotherapy, the bruising regimen, the failed holistic medicine and nutritional drill, the same questions from a host of well-intentioned people, the sense of defeat while repeating again and again and again, “He’s not getting any better, the doctors say” and the failed prayers of thousands of “prayer warriors”—it all took its toll.
Holding Tom’s hand as he lay in his own bed, waiting for the approaching final day or hour, Sarah, unable to be brave, unable to comfort him or herself, having read all the verses, devoured all the articles, prayed all the prayers—she told him of her awful desolation. She talked of the already brutal sense of having lost him, of his going away and leaving her alone, without him. She told him how unfair it all was, how God had said yes to the prayers of others and why couldn’t he grant this request?
And he, weak and feeling his helplessness but feeling even more his overwhelming love for his sweet, lovely girl who had filled his life with so much joy, whispered his faith and hers. Faith in the God who not only gave his Son for the world but who gave them to each other in love and honour and joy all those years ago. He reminded her of what she knew but needed to hear again, that their deep love for each other was part of the love God had for them both so there would be no ultimate loss. “You believe that, don’t you my dear?” he whispered. Sobbing but with sturdy conviction in her words she blurted out, “Oh yes! Oh, of course I do, Tom!”
Well, he said slowly, “if that’s true, you don’t think a little bit of death is going to harm two people like us, do you?”
She straightened up and was silent for a long time as she leaned back into the chair. Then taking his frail hand in hers and with tears still flowing she whispered, “You dear…lovely…man. You’re right of course. You’re not going anywhere I can’t find you and I’ll know you when I see you.”
If you met Sarah today and asked her how things were since her husband’s death she’d tell you, “A little bit of death can’t harm two people like Tom and me.”
[I’ve taken this from my little book “Celebrating the Wrath of God”. Permission granted by Waterbrook Press/Random House, Colorado Springs, Colorado.]
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