Easter

"What about the times when even followers get lost?
Cause we all get lost sometimes." ~Andrew Peterson

I've known this song for many years. This week; however, that line has played in my head repeatedly. I've thought a lot about Jesus. Specifically, Jesus in the garden. We spend so much time talking about how Jesus has shown us how to live. Indeed, he has. But, this week, it occurred to me, that he also showed us how to die.

None of us know when we will die. Some people meet death so suddenly, they probably had no time to prepare. Others are aware of it's approach, but even the best doctor cannot give them a specific date. I have gotten to be a fairly good guesser these days, but I get surprised all the time.

The blessing in disguise to knowing death is imminent is the opportunity to really live intentionally. People with terminal illnesses live with such a heightened sense of emotion. They get desperate more quickly and tired more suddenly. They focus on things that may seem trivial, but I promise that to them, it is deeply significant.

Jesus, knowing death was approaching, chose to have a last meal with his closest friends. He did the most mundane of tasks. He washed their feet. So servant like, it must have seemed strange to the disciples. He suddenly chose to focus on a task that needed to happen everyday. Then he fed them. He broke bread and provided a cup that has changed history. But at the time, on that night, did the disciples even realize it was more then just supper? Did they really believe it was his last?

Then, Jesus moved to the garden. Now, often times I suggest to patient's family members to simply sit and be present with the patient. Soak up the moment and say the important things. Jesus asked his very closest friends to walk with him into the garden and "keep watch with me." Is it possible that the Son of God didn't want to be alone either? Was he somehow comforted by their presence? It helps me understand his frustration a bit more that they kept falling asleep. It also helps me to understand my patients restlessness. Patients appear to lose the ability to remember that other people have activities that must be completed. Now, I would never suggest that the Son of God forgot the disciples needed to sleep. I simply think that in the heightened sense of comparing life and death, their sleeping seemed quite unnecessary.

Jesus prayed for it not to happen. So many people are not necessarily scared to die. They are scared of the process of dying. They want to know how, what it will feel like, and when they just will not be aware any more. Contrary to some opinions, hospice does not speed up the process of someone's death, so while I can give you signs and symptoms of dying, I cannot tell you exactly what will happen. Jesus knew. He knew how he was going to die. He knew when. He knew by whose hand and he knew, that ultimately, he would be very much alone. I simply cannot imagine the agony I would be in tonight, if tomorrow I knew I would be crucified. I cannot imagine the desperation I would have.

Finally, Jesus allowed it. He committed his Spirit into God's hands and breathed his last. He let go. He completed his mission and he died.

He got to move on and conquer death. I would dare all of this to never forget the Bible calls death an enemy. Jesus conquering it means eternal life for believers, but it does not mean death is no longer an enemy of God. It drives me crazy when people try to comfort grievers by saying, "They are in a better place." Fact is death always has and always will hurt. It separates and destroys a relationship as we know it. Nothing will ever be the same and that is very, very sad.

Yes, we have hope. I Thessalonians tells us not to grieve as those who have no hope. It's does not say, not to grieve at all. Jesus wept when his friend died. It is allowed.

Sometimes, life and death are hard. Sometimes we just need to cry. Sometimes we need our friends. And sometimes, we need to surrender. All the time, we have hope.

"There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll
In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold
And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone
All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone

And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God