Pastors

Heart & Soul

The night I learned what really matters.

I watched a man die last night. Hospice Room 436 lay unusually quiet—except for labored breathing, a sound like a man running a long final lap. His blue hospital gown rose and fell on the heaving chest.

The black magic marker tag above the bed read: "Gillis, Algerd." Al was the father of Michael, my friend. When my dad died eight years ago, Michael stood by me. When the sympathy cards had stopped coming and I began the terrifying freefall into grief, Michael had been my parachute. Now I could stand with him in vigil at his father’s deathbed.

I tried to look into Al’s eyes, which had always been playful. He had reminded me of Pinocchio’s Gepetto. Under his silver eyebrows, dark now circled the eyes; his lids were slightly open, but the eyes were rolled back and showed only white. Clear plastic tubing snaked from the wall to a mask covering his nose and mouth. The nurses said he might make it through the night; they weren’t sure. His kidneys were shutting down. His fingertips and earlobes were tinged blue.

Out in the shiny hospital hallway, laundry carts stood silent. It was deep past midnight, and we were alone: a son, a wife, a dying dad, a friend.

Hearing is the last sense to fade, so Michael and his wife, Stephanie, spoke to his dad—beautiful words, tender words. "I love you, Dad," Michael said. "I’m here with you, and you won’t be abandoned. You won’t be left alone."

"Thank you for all you’ve given us," Stephanie added, holding his hand, which occasionally twitched, from the stroke or the morphine. Al had always been generous, helping with school expenses or other needs.

"Whenever you helped us," Michael said, "and we said thank you, you just told us, ‘That’s what dads are for.’ " He paused, then repeated, "That’s what dads are for."

Michael and Stephanie caressed Al’s forehead and hands and arms with all the tenderness of a mother for her newborn.

When I finally had to leave Hospice Room 436 and walk down the quiet, shiny hallway to the elevators, I thought about what I’d seen.

Death changes the conversation. It strips away cheap social conventions and calls us either to be silent or to speak from the heart. In that room, the only words that seemed appropriate were the kind that are deep and clear and true.

Death changes the calculation. Whatever seemed so important during life—job or money or house or success—doesn’t matter now. When you’re in extremis, the most important thing, apart from being ready to meet God, is to be surrounded by people who love you.

I walked out the emergency room exit, the only one still open, praying for Al and Michael and Stephanie. And praying for myself.

My life story is still being written, but the pages had just been flipped forward: I saw my next-to-last chapter. The essential skills in that moment will be to give and receive love.

Am I willing to take the risk? Can I speak more often from the heart, tender words that leave me fully open? Can I receive love from others—openly receive —or do I shuffle and protest?

People long for community, for authenticity. If we are to lead them, we need to learn the lessons of Hospice Room 436.

Kevin A. Miller is executive editor of www.PreachingToday.com and editor at large for Leadership.

Copyright © 2001 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Our Latest

Taylor Swift Makes Showgirls of Us All

Something compels us to perform our relationship with the pop star’s music. Maybe that’s her secret to success.

Public Theology Project

The Loss of One Forgotten Virtue Could Destroy the Country

We’ve all become numb to this unserious, trivializing age.

News

Amid Floods and Heat Waves, Indian Church Fights Climate Change

Christ Church in Kerala tends to its garden while helping its parishioners and neighbors live sustainably.

A Civil War of Words

Evangelical factions can increasingly be identified by our speech. We agree on big issues yet insult and talk past each other.

The Manosphere Gets Discipline Right and Dependence Wrong

Young men are right to want agency, clarity, and strength. But grit alone cannot carry them.

The Russell Moore Show

Benjamin Watson and Russell Moore on The Just Life

Christian justice, gospel-centered living, and faithful action

Is a Ban on Conversion Therapy Constitutional?

In her Supreme Court challenge, evangelical therapist Kaley Chiles calls the Colorado law a violation of her free speech.

Wire Story

Tony Evans Will No Longer Pastor Dallas Megachurch After Restoration

Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship announced that its pastor of 48 years won’t return to leadership. The church expects son Jonathan Evans to succeed him.

Apple PodcastsDown ArrowDown ArrowDown Arrowarrow_left_altLeft ArrowLeft ArrowRight ArrowRight ArrowRight Arrowarrow_up_altUp ArrowUp ArrowAvailable at Amazoncaret-downCloseCloseEmailEmailExpandExpandExternalExternalFacebookfacebook-squareGiftGiftGooglegoogleGoogle KeephamburgerInstagraminstagram-squareLinkLinklinkedin-squareListenListenListenChristianity TodayCT Creative Studio Logologo_orgMegaphoneMenuMenupausePinterestPlayPlayPocketPodcastRSSRSSSaveSaveSaveSearchSearchsearchSpotifyStitcherTelegramTable of ContentsTable of Contentstwitter-squareWhatsAppXYouTubeYouTube