Every Wednesday morning, about a dozen men gather around a table to eat a substantial breakfast and bow their heads together. Laughter and fellowship is had over the food. Then more serious conversations arises concerning names: the names of people suffering from stage 3 cancer, the debilitating effects of MS, or coping as best they can with the death of their mother. There's never a shortage of names. Usually there are more than the previous week. Every Wednesday, they talk about death and the people who daily stare it in the face. And together, they humbly listen for God in each other's prayers, for comfort, guidance and hope.
It's hard to stand up from such a table and not have some day-dream about your own untimely demise. You wonder how you would react if a lingering headache turned into the blindsiding pronouncement that you have a brain tumor. Or if an upset stomach turned into an unexpected heart attack. So many of the names we pray for are curled up in bed with time-bombs, waiting for the morning when their legs refuse to slide out of bed.
Mostly, we healthy folk take for granted the days we are able to grumble at the alarm clock, then bathe, feed and go to the bathroom without assistance from someone else. But I wonder what we would do if we knew death was around the corner, perhaps even tomorrow. What would we do with our last hours? Try to do dinner with those we love most and put into words years of unspoken affection and gratitude? Attempt to accomplish those goals we kept putting off because we were just "too busy"?
Jesus did what He always did: love and serve those around him.
"...Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. ... during supper Jesus...got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him..." (John 13:1-5, NRSV)
There Jesus sat with a dozen men around a table. I can't imagine there wasn't laughter and fellowship over dinner. But more serious matters rose when the doomed Son of God stands to take off his robe in order to clothe himself in humility.
I've heard it said that we should live each day as if it were our last. This isn't a proposal to daily think about death but instead, to think about life and how we live each day, quieting the conversation long enough to listen for God's voice.
I always stand from the table thinking of myself. Christ's stands thinking of the others. Would it take the threat of death before we began loving and serving those around us as we always meant to do?
Or are we just too busy?
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3 comments:
I find myself thinking about death a lot more
Oops, didn't finish ... anyway, I find myself thinking about death a lot more in the last year or two. Not in a morbid way, but just with a greater awareness of how fragile life is, and how I'm a bit further along. :)
I realize more than ever how precious our time is together, and the simple little things like being with my family, or seeing my mom and dad, who live so far away, and how it means a lot more to me.
There's not a moment to waste, really. I don't mean that in terms of being "productive," but in terms of knowing I'm loved by God, and called to love others, one day at a time. That's a grander hope and assignment than worrying about gas prices or the stock market or who will be elected president. We're not here very long, are we?
Very well said, brother. I love what you say about it not being about productivity but knowing. Thank you!
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