Reflections on the Year that Was

First published Friday, January 2, 2009 in The Daily Sentinel


I've allowed myself to get behind in posting to this blog again.... By the time we get to mid-January, we're supposed to have already put the previous year behind us, but I think this article is still timely - because we all have to deal with death.



In a lot of ways, I couldn’t wait to see 2008 put behind me. If I were to sum up the past year in one word, this would be it: death. I don’t mean to sound morbid, but that is what I experienced too many times last year.

First, both of my wife’s grandmothers passed away in the spring – within four weeks of one another. That meant two almost back-to-back trips to Texas. The first time, we drove straight through in both directions. It just about killed me.

In between those deaths, we lost a dear saint in the Racine United Methodist Church: Lois Bell. Lois was an incredible woman in more ways than can be described. When her end came near, I was the one to tell her that her life was almost gone. I will never forget the look on her face as I explained to her that her kidneys had failed and there was nothing more the doctors could do. Lois had a momentary look of fear and sadness, but almost immediately her face cleared and became peaceful. She understood, and she had complete confidence that she was going on to a better place.

In May, the entire Meigs County community was shocked by the deaths of Julie and Julia Campbell. I had never anticipated having to deal pastorally with a murder-suicide in my congregation. It was an extreme challenge for many of us to reconcile our experience of “happy Julie” with the kind of depression from which she must have suffered to make her decisions that ended two lives.

The personal shocks of unexpected deaths did not end there. My wife and I learned in June that a family who had been dear to us back in Texas had been killed in a freak automobile accident – on their way home from church, no less. A car travelling more than 100 miles-per-hour ran a red light and creamed into the Harts’ van at window level. The Harts, their daughter and two foster-daughters, were killed instantly.

Death is the end of one stage in life, and the beginning of another. Sometimes death comes in forms less than terminal. I experienced this lesser form of change when moving out of Meigs County to begin my new appointment in the Toledo area. It was a kind of “death” for me as my ministry focus changed. In many ways, it was a bit like dying – knowing that there are many whom I will probably never see again.

I learned this fall about one of those from Racine whom I will never see again – Homer Proffitt. Homer was one of the first people to come by the house when I moved to Racine, and I think he was the last person I saw just before driving away with a packed car on my way to Perrysburg. He was a gentle man who liked to talk, and talk, and talk. I enjoyed our conversations, and I will miss him.

With our move to Perrysburg, we began new relationships with people in that congregation and community. One individual, in particular, stood out. Terry was married to the director of children’s ministry at the church, a dedicated volunteer in youth ministry, and a talented singer on the praise team. Terry’s life came to a sudden and unexpected end following a stroke in early December. He had grown close to both of my younger children as part of the summer youth mission trips, so this death was particularly hard for them, too.

Death is a part of life. It’s inevitable. But that doesn’t make it any easier to take. In fact, I think it is the hardest thing to deal with in all of life. We can lose jobs, money, houses, cars – but those are just things. Things can be replaced; people cannot. Once a person is gone, there is no retrieving him or her.

Death tempts us to lose hope. Our pain in losing loved ones can be overwhelming. So overwhelming, that we can build emotional walls to block the pain of grief. We numb ourselves and pretend that the feelings aren’t there. Sometimes we can even fool ourselves so completely that we DON’T feel – at least consciously. But the pain is still there – waiting to tell us there is no hope.

But Jesus Christ tells us something different. He tells us that death is not the end – no matter how painful it may be. Yes, we cannot get our loved ones back; but that does not mean they are lost from us forever. There is another side of death: resurrection. Jesus Christ is called the “first born from the dead” in Colossians 1:18. His resurrection offers us encouragement and hope. If he is the first born, and we are adopted as heirs and children of God, then we, too, can experience resurrection. Death isn’t the end; it’s a new beginning.

The Apostle Paul talked about this hope: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble, or hardship, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

So as 2008 is laid to rest, I pray that 2009 may be a time for new beginnings, new assurances that we are not separated from God by anything or anyone. And although I lost many dear friends and family in 2008, I am confident that when my time on earth is done, I will see them again. I look forward to the day, and pray that I will see you, too!