After several years of failing health, my grandmother is nearing her end here on earth. Yesterday, when my dad called to ask if I wanted to talk with her one final time, I felt this incredible wave of responsibility and, to some degree, panic. Here's the moment when the soon-to-be pastor should have the right words, the eloquent prayer and the clearly-presented Gospel. But all that I wanted to say was how much we loved her and were going to miss her. Miss her terribly. I prayed with her and for her that the beautiful reality of being with the LORD on the other side of death would be hers to experience.
I ended the call and headed to my car to head to work with tears which turned to gut-level sobbing. I found myself praying and saying things like "I hate death!" and "This is not the way it is supposed to be!" And more than that, I found myself pleading with God to be merciful to her. "LORD, You are the one who wrote this story. And in Your story, you included an incredible plot twist to our sin called salvation. Please, do what you do best and write this story of salvation in the heart of my grandmother. I love her so much but I love you more. Be real to her by being gracious to her in being Savior to her."
God reminded me in my painful drive to work why I am in seminary and learning things like the diagnostic principles of strong verbs in Hebrew. Because the Gospel is a story rich and full but most importantly vital to our lives and also our deaths. I want the remainder of my life to be about telling this story to whoever will listen and even when I am on my deathbed remembering the story will not end here. It ends with a glorious beginning of things made new, death abolished and Jesus receiving all of the credit!
