I Think He's Ready?

This is part one of a two part series about Andy. He was one of nine children, born and raised in Kentucky. He was married once, “for two days”. He admitted he was “drunk” when he made his vows.

Andy appeared passive and dependent. He had been attached to his sister and her husband most of his life. Where they went, Andy went. He worked with his sister’s husband in construction for many years, as a residential and commercial roofer.

Andy was 65 years old when admitted to our Hospice program with end stage colon cancer. He had been in a couple of nursing homes, but drinking buddies took him out on a day pass from which he never returned. He eventually landed back with his sister.

Andy hoped to get better but realized the seriousness of his illness stating, “I don’t know how this cancer is going to go.” But his sister contested, “He can’t leave me. He’s my baby brother. He’s a fighter!” But despite Andy’s hope and his sister’s need, he continued to go down hill. About two weeks after Andy’s enrollment in hospice I received an urgent call from his sister reporting, “He’s getting worse and I can’t care for him any more.” So we admitted Andy to our hospice room with plans for placement in a nursing home.

The day after Andy’s hospitalization I called his sister. Her statement indicated that she was now accepting the inevitable, “I think he’s ready. The preacher talked with him yesterday.” Later that day I visited Andy in the hospice room and asked, “I heard you talked with the preacher. Did you make your peace with God?” To my surprise he replied, “No”.

Andy died several years ago and I’ll tell you the rest of his story next week. I’ve intermittently thought about Andy and his sister since his death. I’ve asked myself, “Why do we, as family and friends, leave it up to the preachers to talk with our loved ones about what they believe spiritually? Why are we so indirect about spiritual issues and questions? Why do we remain silent and avoid talking about the most important and most intimate aspect of our lives? And, why are we so apologetic when we do? Why?”

I asked my wife, Susie, those questions while we were driving to Columbus one day and she had some insights worth sharing. She replied, “It’s a touchy subject…Maybe we’d rather not know…We want to believe they are ready…We’d rather have a little hope than to have that hope crushed. We look for things and reasons to believe they are ready. We’re afraid that if we share and they don’t accept it then we have failed… Really, it’s all fear.”

Who or what has convinced us that it’s somehow wrong, disrespectful or intrusive to initiate a discussion with someone about what they believe? The teacher at a men’s Bible study I attended quoted a woman who expressed her concern that she had become spiritually “too sophisticated”. Her statement made me unsure of my understanding of the word “sophisticated” so I looked up the definition and here it is: Being made worldly-wise and disillusioned; the loss of one’s naturalness, simplicity or genuineness; becoming artificial or tame.

I’m afraid I’ve become spiritually “too sophisticated”, too passive, tame. I hesitate to ask those closest to me what they really believe, if they are ready to meet their maker. But it’s not very comforting after the death of a close friend or loved one to say to ourselves, “ I think he was ready” Let’s discard the world’s false accusations of being intrusive and care enough to find out.

“For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth…” (Romans 1:16)