Life to the Full

I’m mounting the church steps. My favorite greeter is grasping the hand of the person in front of me with a sturdy handshake. I take my turn, clinging to the weathered skin pulled tight over bone and muscle, running my thumb over wrinkles made from years of love and labor. I don’t settle for a handshake, though. Today I claim a hug.

I didn’t expect to see Pete at the church door this morning. I found out a couple days back that the doctor declared it time for hospice. The doctor must not know Pete, know that he’s still standing outside in the fall of the year wrestling handshakes from churchfolk. Winter hasn’t come yet.

He must not know that Pete must do this, that we need it, that this is what he’s known for. 

Oh, he’s known for a lot more besides. I hear that wrestlers started pulling up his drive yesterday to share a moment with their coach from years ago. I hear that family is arriving–a bundle of them–for a week of Thanksgiving and being filled up with turkey and with the man who has been dad and grandpa and great-grandpa for so many years. I hear the neighbors are noticing the bustle of activity.

And I know Pete enough to know he’s not going to waste words this week or any day until the one when he can finally talk face to face with his Savior. He’s going to speak words from the Word and not be shy about it.

I sit down to worship and read the title on the folder. Life to the Full, it says. We start to sing and I cannot. My throat is thick and the notes blur on the paper. The words are too true and too fresh this morning, knowing what I know.

Jesus lives, and so shall I. 
Death, thy sting is gone forever!
He who bowed his head to die,
lives, the bands of death to sever. 
He shall raise me from the dust;
Jesus is my Hope and Trust.
Jesus is my Hope and Trust.* 

Pastor steps up to preach from John 4, the truth about a father in anguish over his sick child, death knocking loud. He starts with verse 46 and points out that Jesus is again in Cana, the same place where he made the water wine—this small undeserving village which had seen the first miracle of the Maker. And now He’s back–that Maker–to re-make life for one who is dying. Pastor calls us to the graces we miss, maybe even here in our hometown. I think of the grace of Pete in my life, in the lives of so many. I haven’t missed it. I see it.

We then read of great faith, of a father who makes a direct request to Jesus and believes the answer he is given. Jesus promises life from death and the father believes. His hope lies in the words, the Word, not in temporary healing.

I cling to these words, this promise of life. I cling to them for my friend June, wife of Pete for sixty-nine years, who believes. She knows the Maker has life ahead for Pete, life to the full, though not here on this dusty earth much longer. Something much better.

I go home to prepare lunch and notice the apples on my counter. They are still vibrantly crimson with stripes of lime, but there are only a few left. Pete brought us a whole bushel weeks ago, having driven like he does to Michigan to get them fresh. He passes out boxes like he passes out handshakes. Abundant grace. I look at the bowl and cannot swallow, like during the song, knowing that it is almost empty. I don’t want to eat these last few.

Yet I will, because I have been given life to the full. There will be more apples. More graces ahead. More life. I know this because I believe that Jesus has severed the bands of death and lives. Death, thy sting is gone forever!

I text one of Pete’s daughters for a favorite verse of his, and she sends back words that fit as well as his handshake. My phone reads, “Isaiah 66:2. ‘This is the one I esteem. He who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word.’” This is Pete.

I lift up Pete, and June, and the wrestlers and the family and the neighbors and friends who love them.

Jesus, be our Hope and Trust.

Hope and Be.Longing

*Quoted from Jesus Lives, and So Shall I by Christian F. Gellert