Sad Good-byes, Fruitful Labor

Last week we heard the sad news that a member of our church, a dynamic, active physician, died. Remarkably, he had survived a brain aneurysm two weeks earlier, but ultimately his system broke down, along with his family’s hope for his recovery. His funeral was Sunday; he would have turned 63 tomorrow.

We were sharing this story with a couple who told us a mutual friend’s husband, age 57, had just been diagnosed with Stage Four esophageal cancer. Their kids were coming to visit while they waited to hear treatment options from an oncologist.

Then first thing Monday Gene Wigginton called to report that Don Jeanes had collapsed with a fatal heart attack early that morning. I had just been in a meeting with Don a few days previous. He was speaking about how busy he was in retirement with his service in the community and our fellowship of churches. He had no apparent health problems. He was 66.

At our church Sunday, several hundred gathered for an emotional service in memory of our physician friend. Our minister, Tom Moll, quoted from Isaiah 57:

“The righteous perish, and no one takes it to heart; the devout are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil. Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death” (vv. 1, 2).

In a world filled with war, in a culture riddled with stress, in a country characterized by sleeplessness and frustration and conflict, “entering into peace” sounds good, doesn’t it?

But most of us cling to life, no matter how many pressures and problems it brings us. We don’t want peace enough to die for it.

We all remember what Paul said: “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” But not so many have memorized the rest of Paul’s conclusion: “If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me” (Philippians1: 20, 21).

“Fruitful labor.” Is that why I want to go on living? If God confronted me with the choice of life or death, would I think first of family I don’t want to leave, experiences I don’t want to miss, good-byes I don’t want to say? Or would I have the character of Paul and think first of the work for God I haven’t yet accomplished?

This much is certain: when good and Godly men are snatched from us before they’re old, we look at their work not yet finished. And then we consider our future plans and realize they could go undone at any time. And we wonder, what fruitful labor should be our highest priority today?