“My next candidate for faithful immortality is a man I never met, although he touched my life while he was losing his. I learned about him from a television docudrama that I saw many years ago. The producer had obtained permission from a cancer specialist to place cameras in his clinic.

Then with approval from three patients, two men and a woman, he captured on film the moment each of them learned they were afflicted with a malignancy in its later stages. Their initial shock, disbelief, fear, and anger were recorded in graphic detail.

Afterwards, the documentary team followed these three families through the treatment process with its ups and downs, hopes and disappointments, pain and terror. I sat riveted as the drama of life and death unfolded on the screen. Eventually, all three patients died, and the program ended without comment or editorial.

There was so much that should have been said. What struck me were the different ways these people dealt with their frightening circumstances. The two who apparently had no faith reacted with anger and bitterness. They not only fought their disease, but they seemed to be at war with everyone else. Their personal relationships and even their marriages were shaken, especially as the end drew near.

I’m not being critical, mind you. Most of us would respond in much the same manner if faced with imminent death. But that’s what made the third individual so inspiring to me. He was a humble, black pastor of a small inner-city Baptist church. He was in his late sixties and had been a minister throughout his adult life. His love for the Lord was so profound that it was reflected in everything he said.

When he and his wife were told he had only a few months to live, they revealed no panic. They quietly asked the doctor what it all meant. When he had explained the treatment program and what they could anticipate, they politely thanked him for his concern and departed. The cameras followed this little couple to their old car and eavesdropped as they bowed their heads and recommitted themselves to the Lord.

In the months that followed, the pastor never lost his poise. Nor was he glib about his illness. He was not in denial. He simply had come to terms with the cancer and its probable outcome. He knew the Lord was in control, and he refused to be shaken in his faith.

The cameras were present on his final Sunday in his church. He preached the sermon that morning and talked openly about his impending death. To the best of my recollection, this is what he said:

“Some of you have asked me if I’m mad at God for this disease that has taken over my body. I’ll tell you honestly that I have nothing but love in my heart for my Lord. He didn’t do this to me. We live in a sinful world where sickness and death are the curse man has brought upon himself. And I’m going to a better place where there will be no more tears, no suffering, and no heartache. So don’t feel bad for me.

“Besides,” he continued, “our Lord suffered and died for our sins. Why should I not share in his suffering?” Then he began to sing, without accompaniment, in an old, broken voice.

“Must Jesus bear the cross alone,
And all the world go free!
No, there’s a cross for everyone,
And there’s a cross for me.
How happy are the saints above,
Who once went sorr’wing here
But now they taste unmingled love,
And joy without a fear.
The consecrated cross I’ll bear,
Till death shall set me free,
And then go home, my crown to wear,
For there’s a crown for me.

I wept as this gentle man sang of his love for Jesus. He sounded very weak, and his face was drawn from the ravages of the disease. But his comments were as powerful as any I’ve ever heard. His words that morning were his last from the pulpit, as far as I know. He slipped into eternity a few days later, where he met the Lord he had served for a lifetime. This unnamed pastor and his wife have a prominent place among my list of spiritual giants” – Adapted from When God Doesn’t Make Sense by James Dobson

These were “light-posts” for me in reacting to deaths of Christie and Clifford, two beloved saints in our small congregation just a few weeks apart. Never in the history of the assembly had we experienced such, so close.

My conclusion, why ask Him questions that He as my Father has no obligation to answer. It did not take away His love for us as a people neither should our love and devotion to Him waver. Shalom.




Pastor Afolabi Oladele