The Transition of a Good Life

Contemplation
Originally uploaded by Lees@Hollandia

Death is not a snuffing out of life; it is a transition into eternal life.

In the early morning of the 3 Sep 2007, my brother in law, Jimmy Goh died. A small malignant tumour in the lung had spread relentlessly over three years. It eventually spread to the brain. By God’s grace, in a coma, unaware of pain and other discomforts, he drew his last breath.

Jimmy was once a rotund, ruddy faced man. A man of sure faith who will not give up, the kind of faith that should God have willed it, he would be healed. All throughout his three years of struggle, he never gave up hope in the miracle of healing.

With every visitor to his bedside, he would always share the simple graces God has bestowed on him that day. There were many stories of his relationship with fellow patients almost always ending with the sharing of the Gospel of Jesus. His journey with God during his illness became a source of inspiration to visitors, many of whom were members of his cell group. They would later share of his optimism, his endearing friendship, his genuine love, his faithfulness to God, church and friends. Many spoke of his practical piety. Some shared that he always interpreted scripture in manner of attesting the goodness of God to him. He was a grateful fellow, testifying always to the faithfulness, grace and providence of God towards him and his family.

At some point in time, Jimmy must have discerned that it was not God's plan that he would receive a miracle healing. God must have gently alerted him that he would die soon. It did not break his faith. He did not intimate this to his family. If he had any complaints he probably admitted them quietly before God, never betraying his belief that God had his best interest at heart.

At the point of realisation that healing will not come, how does one interact with God and live the remainder of one's days? Frankly, I would not know how. All I know is that part of the Christian witness is to value the sanctity of life and the dignity of death.

As friends and relatives we may have to accompany these loved ones onwards in their journey. I greatly admire the pastors and priests who have been called ever so often to take on this journey with the dying.

One such person I found on the internet is Norman Ingram-Smith, who was Director of Saint Martin-in-the-Fields Social Service Unit from 1965 to 1985. He wrote an article, Facing Death.

"When companioning dying people I have always felt, at the moment of death, a going away rather than a snuffing out of life. The first time that I was asked to companion a dying person I spent a great deal of time preparing myself for what I then pictured to be a difficult matter. I thought about my attitude as I was to sit by his bed in that hospital ward. I rehearsed the words, both of my own and of scripture, that I would say to him as together we waited for him to be dead. In the event I found his bed in the ward, pulled up a chair and settled myself ‘to do this thing’ as I saw it. I was still young enough at the time to think that my greatest contribution to any situation was bound to be wrapped in words. I started on this dying man. Barely had I begun when his fleshless hand came from under the bedclothes and he said to me, ‘There’s no need to talk – just holding my hand will do.’ Not very many minutes later, still smiling, he slipped from his body which would now be pronounced as being dead and the essential ‘him’ had crossed, by dying, into whatever state there is for those for whom Jesus conquered death.”

Death is not the worst thing that can happen to us. After all, it is the spirit that gives life - the body is useless without it. Norman Ingram-Smith said, “Christians can only view life and death as parts of a single continuum. To see the process of dying as a sort of cut-off point is to deny the eternal life in which the body and blood of Christ are keeping us, which is the assertion at every communion service.”

To appreciate life

 

Forest Floors Can Be Interesting 

Recently, a close girlfriend of mine emailed me to ask me to pray for her. She is expecting a child and was told that she would have to undergo special investigations to test for genetic disorders, one of which is Down’s syndrome.

To her horror, her husband and parents-in-law suggested that if the child was diagnosed with Down’s syndrome or any other similar congenital problem, they wanted her to undergo an abortion. Fortunately, God answered our prayers and the tests were negative – the baby is likely to be normal. When John and I were discussing my friend’s case, we came up with the following options for what could happen if the child was abnormal: Option 1: Abort it (not a good option if mother unwilling) Option 2: Keep it and raise it (not an option if family unwilling) Option 3: Keep it and put it up for adoption. Now, I don’t want to discuss the ethics of abortion or genetic testing in this post. My concern is my attitude to people born with a handicap. My initial reaction to Option 3 was that it was not a true option because nobody would want to adopt a handicapped child. This led me to ask myself the following questions: 1. Why wouldn’t anyone want to adopt a handicapped child?

Expectant Parents will never expect their child to be handicapped – they hope and pray for a whole, healthy baby. Adoptive Parents get to pick their child. Knowing that raising an adopted child is a difficult enough process, it is unlikely that a handicapped child (who is far more stressful and more expensive to look after) would be preferred over a healthy child. 2. Am I really saying that I would not want to adopt a handicapped child?

Yes, I am. 3. Why is this so?

John and I are young and at the stage where having a kid is feasible – if God chose to give us a handicapped child, then we would accept this as God’s will for us. However, I cannot see myself going out of my way to adopt such a child. 4. Does this make me a selfish person?

Maybe. At this stage, I was starting to get quite upset with myself. However, John pointed out to me that choosing a child to adopt is not a rational process. People who are adopting a child have already made a life-changing decision and are prepared for the challenges that lie ahead. They are not using mere logic to make their selection. Thus, they may decide to adopt a handicapped child, because God has laid it on their hearts to do so.

In fact, if one really thinks about it, all children come into the world with their own set of inbuilt limitations. A child who is born physically perfect can still have learning difficulties or even mental and psychological problems like autism or schizophrenia. Children can even suffer from debilitating chronic health issues such as epilepsy, diabetes or asthma. Yet these children are not unwanted before birth and they are not at risk of being destroyed whilst still in the womb. The Down’s syndrome infant has the advantage of predictable physical and mental restrictions yet many parents will choose a therapeutic abortion.

A person who has chosen to adopt a handicapped child has the ability to see people for more than their physical or mental limitations. That is, they can see through the imperfections of the flesh, they can appreciate a person because of who they are. This is different from appreciating a person despite of who they are.

My attitude towards handicapped people stems from the fact that I have difficulty seeing past their physical flaws. As a doctor, I am trained to locate what is defective in a person and seek to correct or minimise it.

However, as a Christian, I should also seek to see people the way God would see them – equal human beings deserving of love. After all, God loves each of his children so much that He chose to die for them. I should appreciate them. I should appreciate life.

Debbie Lee