It's me, Reneene. We had a little flood a bit back and I still have boxes I'm going through. Jeff was asked to speak at our church during the Easter service in 2004, one year after diagnosis. They usually tape it but there were technical problems. Digging through a box a found the crumpled up paper, typed of what he shared that morning. I remember there being a lot of tears when he read the first part and walked off stage. I think our Pastor shared and then he came back and shared the second half of this. It still moves me as I type this. God was so Huge in his heart.
Two Faces of Death Easter 2004 (Jeff Wenzel)
Dark
Elie Wiesel's acclaimed book, "Night," he recounts the hanging of two men and a child. The entire concentration camp was forced to march past them and look them in the face. The adults were dead, but the third rope was still moving, being so light the child was still alive. Wiesel wrote, "For over half an hour the struggled between life and death, dying in slow agony before our eyes."
In response to my question regarding the cancerous tumor just removed from my brain, "is it conceivable that I will die of old age?" my oncologist replied "no, this is what you will die of, it's just a matter of how long."
Am I to twist on this rope before you for months, a year, a few, five?
Our Easter service here last year was a surreal experience. My first return to our church body upon hearing the grim prognosis. Noticing the uncomfortable glances, the sympathetic nods, like a man walking the green mile, "Dead Man Walking."
Last years cruel April Fools joke began with the uneasy questioning of the imaging technician half way through the MRI, asking how long did you say you've been having those headaches?
The tear filled eyes of our friend and doctor, Bruce Barclay as he informed us of what was on the prints we had rushed with to his office.
My friends Earnest and Terry, men not unfamiliar with trauma and crisis situations just being there at the hospital intake room. Not saying much, knowing platitudes would be empty and trite.
And maybe the most emblazoned memory of that day was the horrified, ashen face of my father, hands frantically groping along the glass entry way, grasping for the door of the hospital that held his son. The same hospital that ten years previous had attempted to help his brother. The same hospital where the neuro-surgeon emerged from the OR and conceded there was nothing he could do. He was twisting on the rope and no one could save him.
Death roars like a rolling, black thunderstorm engulfing the entire sky. Awesome in magnitude and power, no escape.
Who will protect and teach my children the things God intended me to teach them? Who will teach Benjamin to hit a baseball or Joseph to ride a bike without training wheels, to drive a car? Who will walk my daughter Olivia down the aisle?
Light
Spring is my favorite time of year. Two weeks after the surgery, as I walked in the cool of the morning by the lakes near our home, I marveled at the beauty of emerging life. God's various creations budding and blooming and chirping all around me. The blue sky, the white fluffy clouds. The peace and comfort of God wrapped around me and the thought of being in His presence right then and there was as real and sweet as the fragrance of the honeysuckles in the air.
Death holds a strange hold on most of the world. We all know it is inevitable, but we think we are immune, at least for awhile. I need not think of it. I am only in my thirties, I've never had a serious illness or even warning signs to concern me. I'm healthy.
I don't have any new insight into what lies on the other side of death's door, but the Living God has been so gracious to me over the years to allow me to see and experience at least a taste of His love. I have grown to trust in the Goodness of His character and His unwavering commitment to do good unto me. I believe He loves me more than I can even imagine. And the confidence I choose to place in Him has brought me incredible peace in the midst of what many may consider a cruel and horrible nightmare. I admit, I have had moments of fear and despair, but God's grace has been sufficient. Choosing to trust in Him despite the roaring waves that have risen up around us has given me a peace that transcends my understanding. A year ago, I couldn't imagine going through such a year as this, but Our Father is not shocked, surprised or intimidated by anything.
I told my fiancee Reneene, now my wife of 7 1/2 years, that life with me would not be boring, it would be a wild ride. Neither of us had any idea of how true that would be.
In the Chronicles of Narnia, Mr. Beaver tells Lucy (referring to Aslan, the Christ figure), "Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? He isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
God and the circumstances that He allows to come my way do not fit into my box of expectations, but I have come to believe that it is not foolhearty to trust everything to the one who has proven not merely His love, but His wisdom and capacity to transcend any and all things.
