My friend John got a call one evening from the memory care unit. His father had been suffering from Alzheimer’s for several years. John’s father had dressed himself, packed his suitcase, and was now waiting in a visitor’s lounge. The staff had tried to coax him back into his room. Each time he insisted, “They’re coming to take me home.”
When John got there, he sat and talked calmly with his dad for a while. Eventually they walked together back to his room. After the older man fell asleep, John unpacked his dad’s few belongings, thanked the staff, and drove home.
The next evening, John got another call. The dementia unit again. This time, a nurse gave him the news that his father had died. When John had finished telling me about his father’s death, he said, “I guess deep down he knew. He sensed that he was dying. They were coming to take him home. And he wanted to be ready.”
Being ready for death is, paradoxically, the key to living a full, rewarding, and joyful life. I don’t mean that we’re most alive when we’re bracing for our imminent demise. Rather, I’m talking about a habitual spiritual posture that comes with recognizing and embracing this life’s finitude.
Our earthly lives will come to an end. Our hearts will someday beat their last. We won’t be able to take any of our accumulated treasures with us. For some people, this leads to the conclusion that you should eat, drink, and be merry while you can. But Jesus offers a different message.
Life is not about stockpiling things and chasing pleasure. It’s not about getting applause, exercising power, or enjoying status. Life is about love, and love is about giving your life away. Mind you, Jesus enjoyed dinner parties and watching sunsets and laughing with friends just as much as the next person. Actually, he enjoyed these things more than the next person could.
Jesus understood how to appreciate fleeting things without staking his life on them. Everyone we care about and everything that gives us pleasure is a gift given to us for a season. One day, we will have to let them go. We will return these people and things to the one who gave them to us in the first place, and we will give our very own lives back to the one who gave them to us. In fact, all of life is preparation for giving our lives back to God.
So, letting go is at the very center of the Christian life. Honestly, letting go is also our chief spiritual challenge. We let go of the familiar, of the life we know, for something that we can at best glimpse. Perhaps even more distressing to us is the realization that life is a mysterious gift to be received, not a planned outcome that we can control. It’s as if we turn over the authorship of our life to another writer, unsure of what the ending will look like
We see this in the story about Jesus’s call to the first disciples. Here’s how Mark tells it:
As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” (Mark 1:16-18)
Simon (Peter) and Andrew dropped their nets. They let go and devoted themselves to a life of letting go. By doing so, they opened themselves to what Jesus would do in their lives: make them fishers of people. Paradoxically, letting go of the life we can make for ourselves is how we receive the life that Jesus has come to give us.
This essay draws upon “Hope and Calling,” the fifth chapter of my book Looking for God in Messy Places: A Book about Hope (pp. 60-62). If you’re looking for a study for Lent (or just need an injection of hope), you can grab a copy by clicking here.
My book A Resurrection Shaped Life is also well-suited for Lenten Study, for book groups, or for personal reflection. Learn more by clicking here.
As a retired RN who worked in emergency rooms, and other arenas, I came face to face with death and the effect that it's impending visit had on both young and old. Some were frightened, and scared and not at all ready to "let go" of the things of this world; others, however, were at peace as if they had a "glimpse" of what lay ahead for them. Many times the patient was actually more of a comfort to the ones who were "staying" than vice versa. Jesus has given us the "glimpse" through His words; and I am reminded of the old gospel hymn: "What a Day That Will Be". Thank you!
This touched things in my heart these days. Thank you.