It's been two weeks ago since I got the phone call that Bob had died.
And it's been a hard two weeks.
I feel silly saying that Bob's death has been hard for me. The loss I feel is nothing like the huge loss to his family -- parents who loved him and depended on him; his wife and faithful companion; his beloved son and daughter, two little adored grandsons and an already-cherished granddaughter on the way. And that just begins the list: brother in business together, sister, nephews and cousins. And, even when you get through the long list of the Lawing family, the circle of those deeply affected by Bob's loss is just getting started. There is not only his Friendship Sunday School Class where Bob was a regular and very effective teacher. I think Bob taught every adult Sunday School Class at Hawthorne Lane UMC as his schedule (and later his health) permitted. Everyone in the church loved this friendly, thoughtful, very eloquent Christian leader. And then you have all the guys who played sports through Bob's interest, coaching and influence. (Bob was, after all, the player-coach for the Hawthorne Lane Red Devil church league basketball team). There are NFL referees all over the country who will be wearing #17 on their caps this season (including the Super Bowl) in honor and respect for their 58 year old colleague. And there are more. Yes, the loss I have been wrestling with is just a small drop in the bucket of others whose grief is deeper and more personal. My place is at the end of a very long line of those who are hurt and deeply affected by his death.
As a pastor, I am familiar with the rites of death. The inevitability of death is baseline for every mortal -- but especially every pastor. But Bob's death was more than the loss of another great person to cancer. It was the disappointment about the miracle that didn't take place.
I was Bob's pastor at the time he learned about the cancer that took his life two weeks ago. By God's grace and a rescheduled doctor's visit of my own, I discovered Bob in the waiting room at my doctor's office. That's when I learned he'd been having a pain for several months which had ultimately led to a PET scan the morning of October 31, 2007. The doctor had called him to come in for the results. After my own routine checkup, I stayed in the waiting room until Bob came out. The series of unplanned, unchoreographed circumstances gave me a chance to be on site at that very important, overwhelming moment. That was a prayer opportunity I will never forget. And every day since that day, I have been praying for Bob's healing.
While I believe that his death was a total, glorious, extraordinary healing for Bob, death was not the answer to the prayers I had been praying.
I truly did not think that the cancer would take his life 2 1/2 years later. Bob had every single healing-force factor in his favor. He had beaten a cancer 7 years earlier. He was strong and health conscious and energetic and athletic. He was resourceful and creative and determined. Oh my! What determination this man had! He was a positive life force if there ever was one...positive attitude, strong faith, dedicated Christian leader, devoted family man and active businessman. He was deeply involved with life at every level. His little grandsons were the special lights of his life and with a new granddaughter on the way, nobody had more to live for than Bob Lawing. Even when I visited with him this April, I did not think the cancer had a chance against his remarkable determination, deep faith and strong family support.
I was wrong.
In my mind, I never believed that Bob was invincible. But his remarkable life energy and his young age did lull me away from the mortality that hit so hard two weeks ago.
And that's what I am still wrestling with. And, like Jacob long ago, I will not let it go without a blessing. Bob's death was a reminder that in this world, we are called to live into a great mystery. Faith is most important when explanations and good outcomes elude us. Sometimes people are healed in this life (and, actually, Bob had been the recepient of that kind of healing which leads back to a normal life) and sometimes, the healing comes beyond what the fallen world can offer.
The hard, painful truth is that we all live with the vulnerability of mortality. We just try to not think about it. Save that for Ash Wednesday services. Whether we have had a cancer diagnosis or not, we all are terminal. And some people will die young (some much younger than Bob) from accidents and natural disasters and human sin and disease. Ultimately, none of us are exempt.
Just at the time we are struggling with disappointment and loss and heartache, we need faith the most. It is faith that connects us to the lifeline of hope and gives us the certainty that, although we cannot see it, God is at work for the good in life's deepest losses and heartaches. Only faith can give that blessed reassurance. But faith is hardest with hopes are dashed.
It is only appropriate that Bob's death should strengthen faith since he spent his live living faith. And faith is, after all, having confidence beyond what we can see. Everything I saw about the life of Bob Lawing was permeated with faith. And now, all who knew and loved him need to gather up those faith lessons and be strengthened by a faith deeper than ever before.
Two weeks has felt like two years. In the two years since Bob's diagnosis, he lived life as fully as humanly possible--every step of the way was a step of faith. That, it seems to me, is the witness to lead us forward.
Did I wake up this morning and say, "I think I will go ahead and plant flowers in the back flower bed"? No, I did not.
