The person’s name is not mine to share. Many Baptist pastors would recognize it if told. The individual has been a major influence in my ministry and many others.
During a recent visit, this dear friend and mentor shared the results of a recent brain scan that showed flaking of certain brain tissue. The doctor said this is a certain sign of Alzheimer’s disease. That word strikes fear into most of us. Sometimes it seems a fate worse than death, for the person one has always been can get lost in the dark maze of dementia and never re-emerge.
As my friend talked, his voice was not angry nor his words bitter. He simply described what appears to lie in front of him. My sadness at hearing the diagnosis seemed deeper than his. On our knees, we prayed for deliverance but this Christian warrior seemed to have a confidence and peace about him no matter what his outcome.
It was only later that I could ask myself the question of how I might react if given a terminal diagnosis or told I was headed toward long-term dementia like Alzheimer’s. How would I change my life now while I still had my faculties?
Like you, I have a “bucket list.” One is visit Antarctica so I could have been on all seven continents. But that list is not tied to last things. Each item is just something I would like to do.
The question is deeper than that. The question forces one to examine the character and quality of the life one leads today. Does one’s life have value? Are one’s activities worthwhile? Is one living in God’s will today?
Years ago, a television show called “Run for Your Life” centered on an attorney who was told he had only a year to live. The show traced all the ways he tried to fill his last days with meaning.
Sometimes we are like that. We chase meaning in activity — even religious activity. We run to conferences, participate in all the church activities, even go on missions trips in order to find meaning and purpose for a life that otherwise seems less than fulfilling.
Perhaps that is why a terminal diagnosis or something like my friend faces often leads to anger and resentment of God and others. I know about anger and resentment. When my wife, Eleanor, died suddenly from injuries suffered in South Africa, there was a lot left undone, unsaid.
Anger and resentment are normal parts of grieving. But some people get stuck there. They can become neurotic. And some people facing the end of life or life as they have known it also can become neurotic — mired in sadness about what they are about to lose.
Might that be me? I hope not.
Another option is celebrating all the blessings God provides in the moment. Like you, I have visions of last days surrounded by children and grandchildren. But I was recently reminded that we educated our children and “they moved to San Diego.” As a result, most of us are likely to spend our final days with our peers rather than our families.
Should that not cause us to joy in each precious moment we have with family and friends now? I know in my days of greatest need, it was family and friends who cared for me spiritually and emotionally as well as physically. I hope I will be able to give thanks for and with my loved ones up to my final breath.
An ancient story tells of one who searched the world over to find a treasure only to discover the object of his pursuit in his own back yard. Like that ancient traveler, some of us look for meaning and beauty in all the wrong places. We long for the exotic and look for the unusual. Maybe that is why our bucket lists contain things like visiting Antarctica.
Would it be better to bask in the beauty of the every day that surrounds us, to find the object of our pursuit in our own back yards? There is beauty in the every day, but often we miss it because it is familiar. Perhaps we are too afraid of missing something to appreciate what is around us. Perhaps we should be more afraid of failing to grasp the beauty of the every day with which God blesses us.
Sometimes a report like my friend received causes us to be so emotionally numb that we fail to recognize expressions of love from God as well as His people. Psalm 23 reminds us that “the Lord is my shepherd.” He leads us beside still waters and green pastures. He restores our souls.
God has never provided a GPS for our walk with Him. We are assured of the final destination — life eternal in God’s presence — but never are we told all the turns and troubles along the way.
Instead God promises to care for us and be with us — even through the valley of the shadow of death. For the Christian, that is enough. We are not alone — not in the dark maze of dementia nor the veil of death. God is with us and ultimately we will “dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
And when that is enough, we are able to recognize the expressions of God’s love poured out through the Holy Spirit and God’s people in life’s daily, routine experiences.
Reflecting on the visit with my friend caused me some soul-searching. It caused some regrets to surface, caused me to acknowledge needed changes.
Reflecting also caused me to recognize that if the lifestyle one lives today is not the kind of life one would want to live during one’s last days, then that lifestyle may not be worth living now, for none has the promise of tomorrow.
On the other hand, if one is living in God’s will, then no result from a medical test or diagnosis from a doctor is enough to dramatically alter the values reflected in one’s regular routine. Perhaps that is why my friend could sit in his living room and share his situation without evidence of anger or bitterness.
For you and me, I pray for such a daily walk with God.
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