Susan Bailey Law

Yesterday I made a sad trip to Charlotte’s Presbyterian Hospital. As I pulled into the parking garage I could feel the weight in my heart growing. Walking down the hallway to the hospice unit, I prayed that God would help to keep my emotions in check and that He would give me the words to share. I was getting ready to say goodbye to one of the sweetest souls I have ever known. Susan Bailey Law was in my youth group at First Baptist in Charlotte. Mary and I loved her and her family. Her parents, Martha and Bill worked in the youth ministry; her brother Brian is one of the smartest guys I have every known; and her sister Dana always made us laugh. Susan was one of those special individuals whom everyone easily loved. She was one of a kind. Susan and her husband Jerel served the Lord together. For the past several years they have served as church planters north of Charlotte. God blessed them with three wonderful children.

I had the honor of praying for Susan and with the family yesterday afternoon. This morning at 5:30, Susan looked directly into the eyes of her Lord and Savior. I envy her.

But what about Jerel who has lost his best friend? What about the three children who will face life without their mother? What about Martha and Bill who will now bury a second child. Their first born died when he was just a year old. What about Brian and Dana? What about a church family who is grieving? What about a host of friends – all of whom were praying for a healing? Holding on to your faith when God does not make sense is a challenge. The death of such a young wife with three young children in such a loving marriage is one of the greatest challenges a husband could ever face. The death of a child is one of the greatest if not the greatest challenge a parent could ever face. The death of one with so much life ahead, is like putting the period in the middle of a sentence, it does not make any sense. It does not belong.

When I conducted the funeral service for my wife’s grandmother, she was 101 years old. We celebrated her life. Her death was a natural next step as she moved into God’s heaven. It made sense.

Through 35 years of ministry, I have walked with many people through experiences and sorrows that were not easily understood. Examples of inexplicable sorrows and difficulties could fill the shelves of the world’s largest library. Almost every person could contribute illustrations of his or her own. In a world were innocent people suffer, we are challenged in our faith.

I have watched individuals deal with cancer, kidney failure, heart disease, cerebral palsy, down’s syndrome, divorce, rape, loneliness, rejection, depression, failure, death, these and thousands of other sources of human suffering produce inevitable questions of the soul. “Why would God permit this to happen?” “If God is so loving, why did He not stop this?” It has been my observation that the Lord does not typically rush in to explain everything to us.

The Lord says in Isaiah 55:8-9 “My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the LORD. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”

The simple truth is we lack the capacity to grasp God’s infinite mind or the way He intervenes in our lives. It is okay to say, “I don’t know or I don’t understand… this makes no sense.” But we can also say, “I am willing to trust God in spite of my lack of knowledge and understanding. In spite of my pain, I am willing to trust God.”

In spite of the pain, we can celebrate Susan’s life… celebrate a life that was fully lived.

We read in Romans 11:33–36, “Oh, how great are God’s riches and wisdom and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and his ways! For who can know the LORD’s thoughts? Who knows enough to give him advice? And who has given him so much that he needs to pay it back? For everything comes from him and exists by his power and is intended for his glory. All glory to him forever! Amen.”

We see in the Bible that there are times when God brought healing, such as the blind man, the cripple, the lepers; He even raised Lazarus from the dead. We also read in scripture when he does not heal, or rather heals in a different way, such as Paul’s thorn in the flesh. God saved Daniel from the lion’s den, but did not save Paul from the executioner’s ax. God saved Noah and his family from the flood, but did not save Steven from the stones of his enemy’s. God saved David from King Saul’s attempts to kill David, but did not heal David’s new born son.

We read in 1 Corinthians 13:12, “Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.” The truth of this passage is that we will not have the total picture until we meet God in his kingdom. We must learn to accept partial understanding now, knowing we will have full understanding in his kingdom. I have always thought that my first word in heaven would probably something like, “Oh.”

So, let us then focus on what we do know and what we can understand. The Bible tells us that each person has an appointed time… to be born, to die.

Psalm 139:16 says, “You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.”

Not many people know their time, but Susan did. She fought hard, prayed long and increased her faith. She was prepared for God to answer her prayer in a different way. There were many promises in scripture for her to hold to…

Romans 8:38–39, “And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

God used Susan among her friends and family. She showed us how to live while facing death. Did she want to live? Absolutely. Did she want to leave her husband and three precious children? No way. Was she ready to face death? Without a doubt!

The Bible tells us in Proverbs 3:5, “Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.” We are not prohibited from trying to understand. We are specifically told not to lean on our ability to make the pieces fit. “Leaning” refers to the panicky demand for answers, throwing faith to the wind if a satisfactory response cannot be produced. It is pressing God to explain himself or else. That is when everything starts to unravel.

I cannot explain why such a deplorable disease such as cancer even exists. I do not have tidy answers that will satisfy. I have no airtight explanations. I reject simplistic theology that suggest, “God must have needed Susan in heaven.” Nonsense! A loving Father does not tear the heart out of a loving husband for selfish purposes. God does not remove a loving mother from her three children because he needs her in heaven. We must acknowledge that we have been given too few facts to explain all the heartache in this imperfect, fallen world. The understanding will have to await the coming of the sovereign Lord who promises to set straight all accounts and end all injustice.

Jesus said, in John 10:10, “The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.”

Satan hates us because we are the crowning achievement of God’s creation. Satan hates anything God loves. He is out to destroy us. He hates marriages, because God invented them. He hates families because they are God’s design. But Jesus’ purpose is to give us a full and abundant life. He is not talking about material possession. He is talking about purpose and meaning… a reason to get out of bed in the morning… a reason to live this one life we have to the fullest.

God desires a personal relationship with you. You can have that full and meaningful life through Jesus Christ and only through Jesus Christ. If Susan could speak to us, she would tell us, “It is all true… everything the Bible says about God, Jesus, heaven… it is all true.”

“If anyone calls on the name of the Lord and believes that he was raised from the dead they shall be saved.” Christ’s resurrection is what sealed the deal for me. Just last year I was standing in the Garden Tomb area in Jerusalem… where Jesus was buried. I looked inside the tomb… it was still empty.

God’s proclamation is true; God’s presence is real; God’s purpose is pure. You can live your life to survive. You can live your life for success. Or you can choose to live your life at the highest level - significance. Susan chose to be significant.

To those of us left behind, God can mend our broken hearts… but we have to give him all the pieces.

My Dad...

My Dad directed many people to the Lord. He was the evangelist in our family… just as Katie is the evangelist in our family today. There are two events that I am most familiar with. Both were during the last few months of his life… one was when he actually died.

Story number one. Dad was at Duke Hospital at Duke University. Chemotherapy was in its early stages of development so the only treatment available to my dad was cobalt radiotherapy. At this point all of his medical team was in agreement that he would not survive much longer. The lead physician was concerned that my dad did not understand, or at least was denying the reality of his impending death. The team asked the medical resident in Psychiatry to speak to Dad. The psychiatrist visited with Dad and it was a life altering time.

Obviously, the words my dad spoke to the resident caused some soul stirring. Later that evening, the psychiatrist called my Dad. He asked, “Mr. Brock, do you mind if I stop by after my rounds and visit with you again? I have a few questions. You see, you have something I don’t have and I want to know what it is.”

The psychiatrist came by Dad’s hospital room. They talked; the doctor asked his questions… “you have such a peace about your death. Where does that come from?” By the end of their conversation, my dad led him to Jesus. The last I had heard, that resident had developed a wonderful Christian-based psychiatric practice.

Story number two. About two years ago, Mary and I were south of Raleigh in N.C. visiting some dear friends. While there, I asked Mary if she would mind stopping to visit a close family friend who lived in the same area. Her name is Trudy. Trudy will always have a special place in my heart. She was the chief technician in the radiology department of High Point Hospital. Because of her position, she had gotten to know my parents very well and had taken a keen interest in my Dad. There was something about his faith that drew her.

When we stopped by her house, it was great catching up on old times. Finally I asked, “Trudy, were you with my dad when he died?” “I was,” she said. “Your mom and grandparents were there as well.” I asked her if she minded sharing the story with Mary and me. By her own admission, Trudy was not a believer at that time, but the event that took place that night gave her a deep desire to know Jesus Christ personally.

Everything was very quiet in the room. It was Saturday evening. From her experience, she knew death was near… the deep, shallow breathing, the lowering blood pressure, the slowing heart rate. The body was shutting itself down. My Mom was crying as well as my grandparents. Grandpa always told me that my dad was his very best friend. Grandma told me that they were more like brothers than father and son.

Trudy then said “All of a sudden, I saw Jesus! He was literally standing at the head of Mack’s bed.” The way Trudy tells the story; you wouldn’t doubt her for a moment. She continued, “I literally saw Jesus standing before Mack, ready to take him to heaven. The peace and presence in the room was indescribable.” She looked around at everyone else… they were all crying. “No one saw Jesus but me… and of course Mack.” Trudy didn’t understand why no one else was looking at Jesus.

At that moment, my Dad’s heart stopped. His physical body was dead. Trudy escorted the family from the room. Then she said, “I rushed right back into the room to see Jesus again… but he was already gone.” Forty-three years later and it was just like yesterday. I cannot do justice to her description. But my heart and mind believes everything that she experienced that night.

Trudy later gave her heart to Jesus and has been following him every since. She loves the Lord dearly and will always have a special place in my heart. And one day, Jesus will be standing by her bed… ready to take her to Heaven.

My dad left a legacy of changed lives. Even when facing death, he was thinking of others.

Live your life in such a way that when you face your darkest moments, the only thing that people see is Jesus.

“The death of one that belongs to the Lord is precious in his sight.” (Psalm 116:15, NCV)

“The Lord cares deeply when his loved ones die.” (Psalm 116:15, NLT)

Life’s Lessons Can Be Hard

My first experience with the death of someone my age was when I was 10 years old. We were members of First Baptist Church in High Point, NC. If the doors were open, we were there. Church was fun, but not for the reasons you are thinking. You see, my friends and I knew every hiding spot in the church, and FBC had some big buildings. It was an awesome place to play hide and seek and we were the masters!

There was a couple in the church named Smithenson, who served as foster parents. Although I did not have an appreciation for them at the time, I have since learned to have a deep appreciation for anyone who reaches out to children in need. The Smithensons exemplified the heart of God by loving unwanted or neglected children. The Smithensons always had a house full of kids and they were always at church. Usually, they would fit right in.

Well, it was a Wednesday night. We did our usual stuff… ate dinner, had Royal Ambassadors, then came the real reason for church – playing hide and seek.
The Smithensons had a new kid. He was my age. We had fun as usual. We ran and we played. But this night the new kid and I decided to have a wrestling match. After all, didn’t we have to decide who was the best? Wrestling was usually the “choice of weapons.” (Yes ladies, that male thing begins early in life!)

Well, I won… but in retrospect I wish I hadn’t. It really embarrassed the new kid and I was kind of mean about the whole thing. I gloated. In fact, it sort of turned into a little fight. I figured that the new kid and I would probably not become very close friends.

It was a few weeks later and we were having a RA camping trip to Camp Caraway. It was south of High Point about 30 or 40 minutes. It was a cool place… a medium size mountain, lots of hiking trails and a nice lake. We would stay in tents. Camp Caraway has since been well developed into a conference center, hotel rooms, cabins… the works.

I don’t remember why, but I decided not to go on the camping trip. (I probably was sick. In fact that may have been the time I had mono.) I still have mixed emotions about that decision.

One of the leaders of the camping trip was a guy named Cecil. Cecil was “The Man.” He was a Green Beret. In fact he was the karate instructor for Green Berets at Fort Bragg. Needless to say, he had our complete attention and we NEVER talked back. He drove a motorcycle and wore really cool boots.

Now on the camping trip, Cecil took the new kid in a canoe for a little ride. The rest of the guys were swimming off the dock. The kid stood up in the canoe. Cecil told him to sit down, but he didn’t. He was having too much fun. That moment of disobedience cost him his life.

Without warning the canoe flipped. It sent both of them into the water. The canoe apparently hit the kid in the head and knocked him out and he sunk to the bottom of the lake… remember, this was back in the day when we didn’t even think about life jackets.

Unfortunately, Cecil had on his boots. As he searched for the kid, his boots filled with water and began to take him under. He struggled ashore to get his boots off and immediately went back in to find the kid. All the other men were searching as well. He could not be found.

The rescue team arrived and dragged the lake. His body was found after about an hour.

I remember a picture in the paper… Cecil sitting on the side of the lake, his head in his hands leaning on top of his knees. With all of his Green Beret skills and training… he couldn’t save a 10 year old boy.

When I was told of the accident, all I could think of was the wrestling match and how I embarrassed the new kid.

At the funeral, I remember looking at him in the casket… it was the fist time I saw a dead person. It didn’t seem real. He didn’t look right. I remember the Smithensons being broken-hearted. I remember wanting to be any place but there.

After the funeral, we were driving home in the car. I sat in the back. Dad wanted to stop by his parent’s house, but Mom and I stayed in the car. I could not take it any more. I began to cry. I had never cried for someone who had died before that moment. I cried hard. Mom asked me if I was upset about the drowning. I said yes. But I didn’t dare tell her about my shame.

I didn’t understand. Why did this happen? Why wasn’t I nicer to him? Why didn’t he sit down? Why was Cecil wearing his boots? Why would God allow this to happen to a kid who already had a tough life in that his parents didn’t want him? Why him and not me? Why wasn’t I there? Could I have made a difference?

That event changed my life… it changed how I looked at people. It changed how I treated people. It changed how I cared about the unfortunate. Since the drowning, every time I see someone being picked on, I quickly step in to defend. I have loved kids every since.

I have remembered all these details of the death of a 10 year old. But there is one detail I can not remember… his name. Why have I not been able to remember the most important piece of information… his name? Maybe it hurt too much to know that I missed being nice to someone who didn’t know he had only a few weeks to live. I may never understand. I haven’t thought about it in a long time.

But what I do know is that I have a brother in Christ waiting for me in heaven… I will know his name then… we might even have a friendly wrestling match… I’m sure he will win.

God uses life events, both good and bad, to shape us and mold us. He is Lord and He is sovereign. I really can trust Him even when nothing makes sense.

What’s your story?

What’s the deal with fear? – Part 4

Two weeks ago, my neighbor was excited. He just received his World Series ring. Jerry Martin played pro baseball then turned batting coach for the Phillies. This past season, he was a base coach for the Phillies. If you follow baseball, then you know that the Philadelphia Phillies defeated the Tampa Bay Rays for the 2008 World Series. Jerry’s ring is beautifully gaudy, if that is possible. It’s HUGE. Three and one-half carats worth of diamonds. I am very excited for my neighbor.

Being like any normal boy I grew up loving baseball. I knew the players and the teams. I was always excited when the World Series came around. When I was about 12-years-old I saw my first professional baseball game. We traveled to Atlanta to see the Braves play the L.A. Dodgers. I saw Hall of Famer Sandy Koufax pitch for L.A. Amazing! I remember it all.

Okay. I’m going to share with you the most fearful moment of my life…

Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be 55-years-old. Every year since my 12th birthday, the week following my birthday reminds me of the most fearful moment of my life.

As a kid, I was a very average athlete. I was an average wrestler on my high school team. I was an average center for our city club basketball team (we did finish 2nd in the state.) But what I really loved was baseball. I played 3rd base in little league. I was an average ball handler. But one thing I could do well was hit the ball.

It was my last year in little league. I was 12-years-old and in the 6th grade. We played at Armstrong City Park in High Point, NC. It was a great field. Our outfield fence seemed unreachable. Homeruns were very rare at our field. If you got a homerun, it was usually inside the park. But I was determined to do it. I was determined to slam one out of the park.

My dad was pretty sick by this point. I didn’t know he had cancer, much less that he might die. Back in those days parents felt that they were protecting their child by not burdening them with tough information. (I found out my dad had cancer from a neighborhood kid… I beat him up for saying such a thing.)

All I knew was my dad was too sick to come to my games. I was determined to do one thing for my dad… hit a homerun. I knew that would make him happy. After all, he taught me to catch… to run… to throw… and to hit a baseball.

It was a Thursday night. We were playing well. I was in my usual rotation spot as clean-up batter. I didn’t feel anything special when I got to the plate. I just remember swinging and connecting. There was a brief moment of “could this be it?” I watched the ball head out of the park. WOW! It was an awesome feeling. It was hard to contain my smile while rounding the bases. My older sister, Donna, made fun of my attempt to hide that smile. It was awesome. Sweet victory!

Normally after a winning game, we headed to the ice cream parlor… coach’s treat. And if you hit a homerun, double treat… you got a milk shake! Big deal for a little leaguer!

But on this night, the earned milk shake was the last thing on my mind. All I could think of was getting to the hospital to talk to my dad and tell him about my homerun.

At my insistence, my mom took me to the hospital. It was probably 9:00 at night. We went into his room. It was dark except for a dim light above the bed. Dad was turned onto his side facing the door. He had his covers pulled up to his chest. He seemed peaceful. He appeared smaller for some reason. As I expected, he was sleeping. He was actually in a coma, but I didn’t know what a coma was. All I understood was that he had to sleep a lot.

I walked over to his bed in my dirty uniform. I had long passed the day of having to self-impose dirt onto my uniform. If a player didn’t have enough dirt on his uniform, any respectable little leaguer would rub dirt into his uniform (while no one is looking of course). You didn’t want to have to explain why your uniform was so clean after a game. I admit I had a few moments of respectability during my first year of little league.

With my dirty uniform, hat and glove, I decided not to wait for my Dad to wake up. I leaned down, put my elbows on his bed and got really close to his ear. I quietly said, “Hey Dad, I finally hit that homerun for you.” Now I don’t know if it really happened, but as far as I am concerned, I saw a small smile appear on his face. I will never forget that smile. It was burned into my mind and my heart. It was a great feeling. That smile would become very important to me.

Little did I know that it would be the last words I would ever speak to my Dad.

Two days later, we were at my Dad’s parents. It was late Saturday evening. Everyone was at the hospital except an aunt, my little brother and me. My Dad’s 18-year-old brother, Gary walked in. I immediately saw that his eyes were red. Had he been crying? He wouldn’t make eye contact with me. Then I heard my Dad’s mom crying. That was the first time I ever heard her cry. (She just had her centenarian birthday this past February.)

I was still clueless.

My pastor, Jim Pharr walked in with my Mom. “What is he doing here?” I wondered. “Why is everyone so different?” Someone got a wet wash cloth to put on my grandmother’s forehead. She kept saying “My head hurts… my head hurts so bad.” I thought, “Maybe that’s why everyone is sad. Grandmother is sick.”

Then my 8-year-old brother, Elliott walked straight up to me and said “Dad died.”

What? Did I hear right? He must be wrong. How could two words hurt so much? I looked at my Mom. When I saw her face and our eyes met, I knew it was true. I just fell to the couch and cried. My sister tells me even today that I didn’t stop crying for two days. There was zero comfort to be found.

I remember Pastor Pharr placing his hand on my knee. He tried to say some words, but I wasn’t listening. Don’t get me wrong. I was glad he was there, but I would rather have had my Dad.

This was my most fearful moment… I just turned 12-years-old a week earlier. How was I going to make it through my teenage years without a Dad? Who was going to play catch with me? Who was going teach me all the “man stuff” I needed to know? Who was going to teach me how to drive a car? How to change the oil? Repair the lawn mower? Change a fuse? Who was going to teach me about girls? I was a lost, scared little boy who wanted his Dad. I never knew there could be so much fear.

But God was not going to abandon me. He gave me a wonderful promise. I’m not sure who told me about the passage… maybe it was Pastor Pharr. Whoever told me, it changed my life.

Sing praises to God and to his name! Sing loud praises to him who rides the clouds. His name is the Lord— rejoice in his presence! Father to the fatherless, defender of widows— this is God, whose dwelling is holy. Psalm 68:4-5 (NLT)

“Father to the fatherless.” I can honestly say that those four words took away my fear. I have remembered those words throughout my life. Every time I have a moment of fear and wish my Dad was near by, instead of asking God “Why me?” I say to God, “Thank you Lord for being my Dad. I have nothing to fear.”

Here is the key question for you. What verse, what promise does God have for you in your fear? Find it… memorize it… believe it! Then watch the fear melt away.

By the way… I went on to win the homerun crown for my league that summer of 1966. Other than a few games, I’ve never played baseball again.