Cutting Loose

My friend Pat became a widow a few weeks ago. From the time her husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer to the time of his passing, it was less than a week. The first day that he was in the hospital, I received an email from her--the diagnosis was bad, but she had hope. Throughout the next few days, as she watched her husband's health deteriorate, her faith never wavered. I watched Pat remain calm and strong throughout the funeral in spite of her deep sadness. She's one of my new heroes--not because of her calm demeanor or the gracious way she greeted all of the guests, but because she actually believed the things she had said throughout the week; "God is the great physician," "God will bring us through this," "we serve an awesome God and He will carry us through this," "sadness on our part, but joy for Jim as he has gone to be with his Lord and Savior." None of these phrases were new to me, in fact I've used them many times myself, but honestly, they have often been cliches.



Watching a close friend go through an unexpected crisis, gave me reason to examine my own "trust level " with God. Do I really believe all of those things I say to others in crisis? I had a challenge going on in my own life that was minor compared to what Pat was going through and I was doing everything but trust. I was denying, worrying and trying to talk God into handling my life the way I believed He should handle it. My own reactions forced me to regroup and re-examine my own beliefs. I had to peel back all of the labels and get down to the core of my faith.



Holy Week couldn't have come at a better time. God always shows up in big ways during that time. I woke up early Easter morning with excitement flowing through me. "Christ has died and Christ has risen;" "He's not here, He arose just like He said. He's not here, you won't find Him among the dead . . . " "I will rise when He calls my name, no more sorrow, no more pain,"
"Savior, He can move the mountains, my God is mighty to save . . . " The music for the Easter service was flashing through my mind from all directions and I couldn't wait for the service to begin.



Death to life--that's what Easter is about: the story of Joseph being miraculously found in Kenya and brought to the orphanage; the cardboard testimonies of individual lives being changed; Pastor Chip's story about little John saying, "I want Jesus." That's what Easter does for me. I'm starting to understand the message again; the same message Pat was trying to tell me. This life, with all of my attachment to it, is not the whole story. If I want to stay on that road that leads from death to life, I have to start cutting myself loose. Don't get me wrong, life is good and it's fun and there's lots to do, but it can be interrupted at any time and that has to be okay.


That was what I learned at Easter this year. Chances are I've learned it before and I'll learn it again because it takes a lot of practice to get it right. And so . . . if I had been up there on Easter Sunday during the time of cardboard testimonies, the first side of my cardboard would say, "Way too attached to this life," and, on the other side, "Cutting loose."