THE BLOG

Death has a way of sucking life out of living—especially at Christmas.

It was two weeks before Christmas 2000. Around midnight I walked out of St. Luke’s Hospital in Columbus, NC, not far from where I was serving as Senior Pastor of First Baptist Church Landrum, SC. I had just left the hospital room of a church member who was not expected to live through the night. Earlier in the evening I had been in a hospital room in Spartanburg (SC) Regional Hospital with another church member who had just been told there was nothing his doctors could do except make him comfortable as death approached. Meanwhile, lying in Mary Black Hospital across town in Spartanburg was a third church member also at death’s door.

Lisa Brennan-Jobs is the daughter of the late Steve Jobs, founder of Apple. Recently she wrote an account of her final visit with her father from whom she was often estranged. About a month before he died from pancreatic cancer at the age of 56, her father spoke words of deep regret to her. He told her, “I didn’t spend enough time with you when you were little. I wish we had more time.” When she told him it was ok, he replied, “No, it’s not okay. I didn’t spend enough time with you. I should have spent the time. Now it is too late.” He looked her in the eyes, teared up, and then said, “I owe you one.” During their final week together he repeated that phrase over and over, “I owe you one.”1

This morning I texted my brother, who lives outside Philadelphia, to console him over Penn State’s loss to arch rival Ohio State last night. For Penn State fans it was an agonizing one-point loss due to the fact that their team squandered a 12-point lead in the fourth quarter. My text conversation with my brother went like this: (Me) “Heartbreak Hotel”; (Him) “Yes. Any hopes of playoffs gone. Always next year!”; (Me) “That’s what hope is all about”; (Him) Thumbs up emoji.