The Unmentionable Thing

Trigger Warning: Discussing Death

Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash

A note to subscribers: you may have noticed that my posts have taken on a different tone and subject matter. It’s because of what I discuss in this post.

In the last few days, I have found myself thinking about mortality more than usual—that “I will someday die” thing that no one likes to discuss. Why? Because of a conversation I had with two teens.

I teach two charming, bright home school students biology twice a week. Besides the usual material, our conversations sometimes turn to larger issues related to biology. They draw on my decades-old knowledge and I float on the surface of modern teen culture. A fair trade, I’d say.

So just yesterday we were discussing the kinds of muscle in the body. Heart is one of them. The subject flowed naturally into how the heart functions. I talked about atria and ventricles, valves, blood flow, and oxygenation. I particularly focussed on how important it is that the regions of the heart function together. One of them asked about heart attacks, and that naturally turned toward other heart diseases. I described atrial fibrillation, and then for some reason, I mentioned two ominous words, heart failure. I then told them that I have congestive heart failure (CHF).

The previous Monday we had gone on a trip to the aquarium to see some of the creatures we had been studying in biology. And there they had seen first-hand that I could not walk far without resting. I had not discussed it with them before. So of course they were concerned.

That is why I felt obliged to tell them I had CHF. There was uncharacteristic silence from them as they took it in. CHF is a terminal disease with no cure. How long a patient lasts depends on a variety of things. I told them this, and then I told them that I was OK with this. And I am.

It was a tender moment while they took in that a person they had known since infancy was going to die. They were grave, quiet. I talked about memento mori, and that all of us will die. It is the way of things. We let go of this earthly life and transition to another kind of life.

I have debated with myself about posting this very personal story. This subject is not something that is talked about in casual conversation. It usually comes up only when an individual discovers they have some fatal condition.

I write because I have hope. Hope and the belief that death is not the end. As you probably know from previous posts, I am a Christian.

I look forward to meeting my loved ones, and more importantly, the God of my salvation, Jesus. I don’t know what death itself will be like, though I have observed the passing of several people. The preceding illness can be a long surrender, giving up mobility, independence, the ability to care for oneself, perhaps even the ability to talk or think. This decline is inevitable, inexorable. Or sometimes death comes suddenly. Then one has to hope that surrendering is accomplished in moments.

I have tried to prepare myself by imagining what the moment of death feels like. More than once I have lain strapped to a table, my arms outstretched, waiting for anesthesia, and knowing I might not wake up. We all chat cheerfully, but it is at those moments that I practice my surrender and trust in God.

That is a pale shadow of death. Death is not easy or pretty.

I am acutely aware of my mortality. I have only so long to work, to write, to love, to celebrate, to pray. Each day brings me closer to the end. But believe it or not, I am not morbid. I do not talk or think about this a lot. I have not told all my friends so this may be a shock to them. But telling my young friends and their sorrow made me reconsider waiting.

As we come to the end of this Easter season we celebrate Christ’s resurrection, when he conquered death, and his Ascension, when he returned to the Father to make a place for us. We hope in this:

“what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him. ” (1st Corinthians 2:9)

And our faith is in this:

For this perishable body must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:

Death has been swallowed up in victory.
“Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”

(1st Corinthians 15:53-55)

Upon this I stand. Christ’s resurrection is more than a story. It transformed the apostles from fearful, doubting men into courageous ones not afraid of death. It swept through the empire and to the ends of the earth. Is the resurrection true? If so, it would be the most important thing one could ever discover. Therefore I urge you—look into this with an open mind and heart. Read the accounts of the people who experienced it first hand, the Gospels. Read the history of the Church and the accounts of the early martyrs. What would make these people willing to suffer painful deaths? Only Christ’s death and resurrection would give them such courage. Death has been defeated. Those who follow Christ along the narrow way rest in this hope. We are more than conquerors.

As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long;
we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”^[a]

³⁷ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. ³⁸ For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, ³⁹ 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. (Romans 8:36-39)