Common Grounds Online

Glenn Lucke, Grieving with those who Grieve

I met a pastor the other day. We rode in a van to a dinner, and then at the dinner, amidst eight other people, we ended up sitting across from each other and talking. The next morning we were on the same hotel elevator and had a moment or two while I was waiting to check out of the conference hotel.

In those three conversations I got to know a man who struck me as humble, kind, very bright and well read, proud of his sons and one who enjoyed life with his sons. The one mention of his wife was the high level of excellence with which she had homeschooled their boys. 

Because he is a potential client for my business (some of what we had talked about) I decided to look him up online and find out more. I ended up at his blog where I read about the death of his wife. His story about cleaning out her clothes closet, over a year after her death, slew me. 

There is something about reading the words of a man grieving the loss of his beloved wife many, many years ‘before her time,’ that punctures the senseless busy-ness that engulfs my days.  I felt like I was reading something too intimate to be read by me, a new acquaintance. The detail, the specific aspects of his wife that her clothes called to mind, the loss—so vivid was the picture that I found myself grieving with him.

To miss the love of your life, to lose your partner in loving your children and loving God’s flock, to anticipate future weddings of your sons knowing that your wife and their mom would not be there to celebrate, to envision grandbabies born and not be known by their grandmother. Such great sorrow.

None of us knows why the Lord does what He does. We can know and trust His character and big theological principles about Him and stories that tell of how He has interacted with His people, but none of those tells us why He takes home some old, some young and some very young.

Perhaps some believers can reflect upon the sorrow and stop short of the hope. Maybe some day I will. I sense a voice saying, “You cheat. You don’t sit in the grief. You run to the hope.”  Maybe so. I don’t know if it’s really cheating, but I do know that our Story is centered on Jesus, who carried a Cross and then hung on it, and then came back to life three days later. How do I divest or sequester Sunday from Friday? Friday hurts and I feel the sting and grief of Friday, but Sunday’s resurrection is bound up in Friday’s death.

This pastor’s grief caused me to grieve with him and at the sorrow our mortal lives inhabit. His grief reminded me to savor Jesus, and to savor Stephanie and all our loved ones, to forgive petty slights and big betrayals of friends and acquaintances, and to love and to love and to love.  

Connally Gilliam: On (a Child's) Death and Jesus' Resurrection

After walking with my family through the August drowning of my brother and sister-in-law’s beloved two-year-old son, I have come to see the resurrection of Jesus in a brand new, far more intense light.  What follows is an excerpt from a thank you note I sent to many of the friends who walked with us.  It is a description of a painting that I painted in an attempt to depict my experience.  Perhaps in the painting’s description, you will see something of what I’ve only begun to grasp about Jesus’ ultimate slaying of the final enemy of life, death.

Craig Martin, MD -- Waiting for Life and Death

     Most of the time, I have the most enviable job in the world.  I have the privilege of attending the births of babies.  From the first months I get to share with my patients those heart-stopping moments:  when the test comes back positive, the babe leaps for joy, the picture shows the boy or girl, the name is chosen, the signs of the obstetrical eschaton are unveiled, the water breaks, the head emerges, and when life's first cry follows the silent first breath.  It is never a stale task--for even the more predictable emotions erupt uniquely when the babies are coming.  In those quiet or loud hours, couples officially become families; the graying generations in the dark corners of the labor room move from branches to trunk on the family tree.  It is the slow expectation of life.

     The slow expectation of Chelsea's death was too hard for me.

Glenn Lucke, For A Shepherd Dying Young: Remembering Dustin Salter

I met Dustin Salter in my first semester at Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando. Dustin and I were in the M.A. in Theological Studies program, both sure RTS had made a mistake in letting us in, both wanting to gain a richer, deeper knowledge of Jesus and His ways. He was almost my height (tall), and thin, and had an easy, loping way about him. He laughed easily, too, asked more questions than most, and listened. And he read endlessly.

Dustin was one of those Southerners who epitomized what is best about Southern culture—polite, well-mannered, caring about others, deferent but willing to ask challenging questions, humble yet spirited, and hungry. Like a very few that I’ve known, Dustin was the kind of Southerner who didn’t love the South and held the stigma of backwardness close to his heart. At least during our RTS days, he seemed to want to escape a world that I thought had etched him in beautiful ways, but that he saw as having rendered him intellectually behind others.

The Study Group
Dustin and I were part of a mostly inseparable foursome that did RTS together. John Jackson (Juice) and Patrick Connelly were the other two, and we all remain great friends. We were all in the MATS program, so we took almost all the same classes together. Three in particular stand out because they were a peculiar hellish ordeal all their own, because those three courses were taught by a scholar we loved and feared, Dr. Frank James. Dr. James, whom we referred to as ‘Texas Frank’ everywhere except in Dr. James’ presence, was a superb lecturer. For those who might think Church History or Systematics might define tedium, Dr. James transfixed us with the greatness of God and the ways the Spirit had worked through the saints in history. An elder at St.   Paul’s PCA, Dr. James took seriously the work of the church and the blending of heart and mind in following Christ, and all of this he brought into the classroom.

Reggie Kidd: “He Stirred Himself” — It’s Not that “S@#& Happens. Then You Die.”

Part of the cross-shaped life of being a Jesus-follower seems to mean there are seasons when things are going fine for you, but what you carry in your heart is the fact that that’s not the case for other people you care about.

People around me are dealing with death in one form or another. One friend is disconsolate at the loss of his brother. Another is simultaneously grateful for each day’s healing from cancer, but aware that with his form of cancer “day to day” means, well, “day to day.” Another friend just now begins his journey into chemotherapy’s dreadful dreamscape of pain and wondering. Yet another watches her marriage dying, wondering what this unraveling means for her and her children’s “participation in Christ’s sufferings.” One of my sons sits on the bench watching his coach believe that others — but not he — will eventually produce, if given a chance; meanwhile, a dream dies.

No wonder, as Athanasius (see my last CGO blog) observed, pagans dreaded death. No wonder Gnostic Christians, whom Athanasius so strongly opposed, sought a romantic release from embodiment.

The pagan world into which Jesus stepped was as schizophrenic about death as ours is.

Doug Serven, Toreo

Some say it's an art form. Some say it's barbaric sport. It's a struggle between man and beast to see who will win - and yet the man wins almost every time. How can that be just, humane, equitable or worth the price of any admission?

I am fascinated right now with something I've never seen done and hardly know anything about - bullfighting.

We don't know much about this in the U.S., of course. But that may be some of the appeal. Every once and awhile you come across some strange sport on FOX - llama racing or slug wars - and scratch your head at those crazy people.  Of course, in our own country, you can find noodling, cock fighting and the pursuit of squirrel brains.

The argument for bullfighting goes along with this art form strain. Beauty and power all mixed up together. Afficianados say you will never see more passion than this in any sort of display. Man and bull face off. And of course, a bull must be weakened with the various picadores and banderilleros, for the matador would stand no chance against a thousand pound animal. These bulls have been bred for just this moment, with the chance to show their ferocity, bravery and courage by charging again and again. They learn quickly, and because of this, they have never before seen any man stand before them like this.

 

Les Newsom- Christianity and Suicide

Christianity and Suicide

The call came only a little over a week ago, so bear with me. The wound is still fresh.

One of my former students who had graduated in May of 2005 had gone on to take a job with my organization’s internship program, designed especially for young men to see whether they are equipped for ministry. While involved with my ministry, he served as the chaplain for his fraternity and the head of our mercy ministry servant team. He was dearly loved by all who knew him, was engaged to be married this coming June, and planning on pursuing the ministry after his internship. Last week, he allegedly hanged himself in a closet in his apartment.

I use the word “allegedly” because it is still so hard to fathom. Mind you, not in a “oh, I can’t believe he did this” fashion, but simply for the fact that not one of his closest friends, his campus minister, nor even his fiancé were given even the slightest hint that he might have the kind of troubled heart you expect someone to have when they do this kind of thing. No noticeable depression, no unmanageable stress, no heartache to speak of…nothing.

In the midst of trying to do some triage on my shattered flock of heart-broken students, two questions have emerged.

Aaron Menikoff, "His Wife is Dying, His Heart is Breaking"

On July 22, 2005, National Public Radio played an audio recording from its StoryCorps series of interviews designed to preserve an oral history of everyday life.  In this particular interview, Matt Barinholtz spoke with his wife, Robyn Einhorn.  She recently graduated with a master’s degree in decorative arts—a remarkable accomplishment given the fact that daily blood transfusions kept her alive.  Matt knew his wife wouldn’t be around much longer. 

He asked how she made it.  She replied that it’s easy to do what must be done.  She quickly added she had a supportive husband who loved her.  Betraying the intimacy of the interview, Matt reminded her of a sketch she’d made of him years ago.  Robyn savored the memory—she said he was beautiful.  The conversation took a different turn when he asked her what she thought would happen when she died.  She hoped she could begin another life with a little more wisdom.  With a quiet, faltering voice Matt told Robyn he’d listen to this interview when she was gone.  Then he asked her what she’d want him to think about as he did.

“I guess I want you to know that I love you very much and, thank you.”

Unable to mask the lump welling up inside his throat, Matt replied, “I’m gonna miss you a lot and I’m really glad I get to be here with you now.”  His wife is dying, his heart is breaking.

Doug Serven, Of Funerals (mine)

I've been thinking of death a lot lately because of the end of Genesis; so I wanted to post my wishes for my funeral.

There are a few things I want and a few things I don’t want. I don’t want to be cremated. I wouldn’t call this sin necessarily, but it seems that it forgets the promise of the resurrected body and ties more into a view that the body is nothing and now meaningless. I think that God can gather all that dust scattered in the ocean, but the symbolism isn’t Christian in my view.
I don’t want balloons. I don’t want anyone to think of this as a celebration. I want you to be happy that I’m in heaven, for I will be with Jesus – but I want you to be SAD that my body and soul are disconnected and no longer here. William Grimshaw (1708-63) the “Apostle of the North” (Haworth in Yorkshire) in Britain said this: “When I die, I shall then have my greatest grief and my greatest joy: my greatest grief that I have done so little for Jesus, and my greatest joy that Jesus has done so much for me.”
Be sad and have hope and joy. Please cry when I’m gone because you miss me. I hope I’m miss-able.

Location – somewhere in Norman, wherever is convenient and possible. I would love a beautiful church like McFarlin or the Episcopal church (or All Soul’s) but that may not be possible.

Coffin – cheapest possible choice

Headstone: Doug Serven (1970-x) // Friend of God // Husband of Julie // Father of Ruth, Cal, Drew and Anna // Shepherd of the church // Lover of books and words

Service Rev. Mike Biggs preaches a short message and conducts the service
We sing these hymns:
A Mighty Fortress
All for Jesus
O Love That Will Not Let Me Go
Thy Mercy My God
Special Music by Wade Jewett
These people are invited to speak:
Rev. John Knorr
Rev. Brad Anderson
Craig Dunham
Any RUF campus minister who is appropriate and wishes to
Any RUF student who is appropriate and wishes to
Any family member who is appropriate and wishes to

I’d like to be buried either in Ozark or in the cemetery by Linden Lure. Sorry about the two locations of the funeral and the grave. I am assuming this is doable.

All assets are to be given to my wife, Julie Serven. In the event of both of us dying at the same time, all assets (including my children) will be given to Dan and Donna Serven unless any of my children are over 25. Then the assets will be distributed equally between those children who are 25 or older. In the event all of the above die at the same time, all assets are to go to the elders of Christ the King Presbyterian Church, Norman, to do as they see fit.

In the event of the passage of me and Julie at the same time, these people will be called to decide what is best for the Serven children: Dean and Denise Tlustos, Steve and Heather Harrison, Brad and Dana Anderson, Matt and Cheri Uldrich, Wade and Courtney Jewett, and Russ Edwards.

© Doug Serven, 2005.