Fighting for Dear Life (34 page)

I believe it should.

Eternity is forever. And while talking about ‘‘rights'' and ‘‘choice'' and ‘‘living wills'' has value, it's easy to overlook the immense gravity of stepping from this life into the next without settling the question of the eternal destination.

A dear friend of mine for many years, Helen Barber, was faced with that very dilemma. Helen's father, Sterling Johnson, was a strong man who milked a dozen cows by hand every day. Helen described him as a ‘‘moral'' person and yet one who remained without Christ throughout his life. For forty years Helen prayed for her dad's salvation.

As Sterling got older, he developed significant health issues and, at one point, made it clear verbally that he did not want to be placed on life-support machines to prolong his life. He did not put those wishes in writing. As Sterling's health began to deteriorate more dramatically, his doctor pulled Helen aside and said, ‘‘Your father is dying. He will not live fifteen minutes unless we put him on a respirator to breathe for him. And when he's removed from the respirator, he will die. What do you want us to do?''

Helen's mind rushed into an immediate whirlwind of conflict and stress. Helen knew what her father had said—basically his was a request to let him die sooner as opposed to later. But Helen also knew that if her dad died tonight, he would die without ever having trusted Jesus Christ as his Savior. His eternity was at stake as the doctor asked the question. For forty years her dad had rejected the gospel message, but with one more night of life, Helen and her husband would have a final opportunity to tell him about Jesus.

Helen's decision was immediate and resolute: ‘‘Put him on the respirator! Put him on anything that will keep him alive.''

Helen's husband, Raymond, raced to the hospital and entered the room where Sterling was now hooked up to a life-support machine. Raymond was a pastor who had won many people to Christ in hospitals over the years, and as Sterling's son-in-law, he would do all he could. Helen remained in the hallway, praying and begging God for her dad to trust Jesus Christ in his final moments on earth. Was it too late to do any good? I'll let Helen tell what happened next:

When Raymond came out, he said, ‘‘Your dad trusted Christ as his Savior!'' I said, ‘‘No, I don't think he really did trust Christ. I think he just told you that because he knows it will break my heart if he dies without Christ.'' But I was so wrong. My dad was taken off of the life support several days later and fully expected to die. Interestingly, he continued to live and was dismissed from the hospital to come live in his own home.

Amazingly, my dad lived a normal life in New Mexico for another eighteen months and attended church every Sunday. He read his Bible, and for the first time in my life, I heard my dad pray. He was a changed man. His greatest regret was that he had wasted his life not knowing the full joy of a close relationship with Christ. I am so thankful that God put it on my heart to place my dad on life support in order to give him one more chance at a new life in Christ. When my daddy passed away eighteen months later, I had no doubt in my mind that he knew Jesus Christ as his Savior.

Here, then, is a simple blueprint for the Christian to consider when confronted with a situation similar to that of Helen Barber's dad or Terri Schiavo. We begin with the question, ‘‘Are they terminal?'' Notice I didn't ask, ‘‘Are they sick?'' or ‘‘Will they improve or recover?'' For me ‘‘terminal'' means this: There is a reasonable amount of medical certainty they will die fairly soon. Examples of a terminal condition would include advanced stages of cancer, AIDS, or Alzheimer's.

If a person is terminal, I believe we have a duty to do what would reasonably sustain life (such as providing food and water), but the dominant goal is to keep them comfortable and properly cared for with dignity. If the person is unsaved, sharing the gospel with them as quickly as possible should be the highest priority. Remember the thief on the cross next to Jesus? He confessed his faith in Christ literally moments before he died as a convicted criminal. Jesus turned to him and said, ‘‘Verily I say unto thee, Today shalt thou be with me in paradise'' (Luke 23:43).

Now, if a person is not terminal, every opportunity to introduce them to Jesus Christ before their death should still remain the ultimate priority. With respect to the medical decision-making process, I believe that we should aim to preserve, enhance, and prolong the life of non-terminal patients. Granted, there are no guarantees that a sick or disabled person will ever fully improve or recover.

A good rule of thumb is to always err in favor of life. When in doubt as to what to do, make the decision that favors preserving a life. If a new technology now emerges that could have dramatically improved Terri Schiavo's mental and physical condition, it's too late. The decision to let her die has already been acted upon.

Helping people remain alive is a worthy goal that drives firefighters, police officers, and military personnel to often risk their own lives to save others. In like fashion, nonterminal patients deserve our best efforts to keep them alive.

CHAPTER TWENTY - FIVE

BRAVE NEW WORLD?

The care of human life and happiness, and not their
destruction, is the first and only legitimate object of good
government.

—T
HOMAS
J
EFFERSON
1

I
magine it's the year 2040.

A seismic shift in the American cultural landscape has occurred. As a nation, we've slipped into an era where moral relativism has completely replaced the Ten Commandments as the foundation for law. God is out, and arbitrary legislative and judicial rulings are in. American church attendance has dropped to European levels; less than 10 percent participate in weekly services. And on the political front, so-called liberal blue states outnumber conservative red states two to one.

After several decades of relentless legal challenges by the ACLU, the last vestiges of our Judeo-Christian heritage have been stripped from public view. Churches and war memorials may no longer exhibit crosses visible from the road. Our historical monuments in Washington, D.C., have been sandblasted to remove their centuries-old references to God and Scripture. Likewise, the money in circulation no longer says, ‘‘In God We Trust.'' And Christmas has been replaced by the Winter Holiday.

In the public schools, the Christian faith of our Founding Fathers, initially noted at Plymouth Rock and in the later historic documents drafted by our founders' able hands, has been replaced by a generic nod toward a universal spirit. Even the textbooks used by private Jewish and Christian schools have been neutered from their faith-based orientation in order to meet a strict, court-mandated educational standard. Religion classes must include the exploration of all faiths—especially Islam.

For its part, the federal government has caved under intense pressure to provide socialized medicine for every citizen—as well as for millions of illegal aliens. As a result, the national budget is strapped. Record deficit spending is necessary to pay for universal health care, which, in turn, threatens to stall the economy.

The solution?

A congressional subcommittee has been called to explore measures to curb spending on health-related issues. A parade of expert testimony is assembled. Ultimately, these doctors, social workers, caregivers, and economists recommend three cost-cutting, albeit controversial, measures. First, they propose emptying all nursing homes; the elderly will be asked to fulfill their duty to the next generation by expediting their deaths. Their adult stem cells will be harvested for research.

Second, the subcommittee recommends suspending hospital treatment when the ‘‘quality of life'' of a patient fails to meet a minimum standard set by a medical ethics committee. These hard luck cases will receive morphine while being deprived of food and water until nature takes its course.

Finally, the subcommittee proposes that newborns be terminated if they are diagnosed with chronic illness, show evidence of birth defects, or if their parents are without sufficient financial means to provide for their care.

Not everybody is pleased with this proposal.

A lawsuit challenging these new laws based on the constitutional right to life is filed by the pastor of your church with the help of a dedicated Christian legal team. In spite of the anti-Christian bias that has dominated the courts for decades, a judge eventually agrees to hear the case. Your pastor intends to make the argument that America's founders believed that life is a gift from God; and as such, it is sacred and must be treated with the utmost respect. He believes that only God should determine when life begins and ends and that a higher moral authority than the courts or a doctor's ‘‘educated guess'' must govern end-of-life decisions.

The opposition will argue that humans are nothing more than an evolved extension of the animal kingdom. People are not a special creation of God deserving of extraordinary care. In the final analysis, humans have no more intrinsic value than a dog or cat and, in some cases, are less beneficial to society than animal life. This is not entirely unexpected since decades before, professors like Princeton's Peter Singer had laid the foundation for this view in ethics classes.

To help your pastor establish his case that God created life and that human life is sacred, he asks you as a member of his church to be a witness. You agree. You study what the Bible teaches about the origins of life, the uniqueness of the human soul, and what the Bible says about God's divine plan for each person.

The big day comes. Your name is called and you take a seat in the witness stand. You're sworn in with a pledge to tell the whole truth. It's kind of a scar y moment. The lawyer representing the other side approaches and starts by quizzing you with a series of background questions. For the record, he asks you to state your name, your address, your date of birth, and then he covers a handful of innocuous issues. You begin to relax when he asks if you belong to a particular church. Let's pick up the hypothetical exchange at that point.

‘‘How did you become a member of your church?''

‘‘Well, I attended several new members' classes and was told I had to be saved, baptized, and agree with the doctrine of the church before I could join.''

‘‘I see,'' he says, making a mental note. ‘‘So what does it mean to be ‘saved'?''

You think about that for a moment and then give the short version. ‘‘I believe that you have to confess that you are a sinner and you must put your faith and trust in Jesus Christ.'' That's odd, you think. You're in open court explaining the plan of salvation when you thought you were here to explain why you believe all life is sacred. But instead of moving on to that topic, the lawyer continues to probe.

‘‘So what happens if you don't get saved?''

You shift in your seat, unsure how much to say. ‘‘In simple terms, when we die there's a hell to avoid and a heaven to be gained based upon the choice we all make on this side of eternity.''

‘‘Are there several choices to get to heaven, as you put it?''

‘‘No. Just one.''

‘‘Really. What's that?''

‘‘Well, you have to believe in Jesus and what He did on the cross. When He died, He took the punishment my sins deserve.''

The lawyer turns toward the defense table where your pastor is sitting and then asks you, ‘‘Did your preacher just cook all of this up? Was this some sort of a marketing campaign or perhaps a guilt trip the church leadership designed to get people to show up on Sundays?''

‘‘No. What our pastor preaches—and what I believe—is all based on the Bible, God's Word.''

The lawyer is enamored with the fact that you actually believe God wrote a book. He says, ‘‘Now, let me get this straight. You really believe that God wrote a book?''

You look at the judge for a moment. ‘‘Do you actually want me to go into all of that? I thought—'' The judge cuts you off. ‘‘Please, answer the question.''

‘‘Well, not to get too technical,'' you say, ‘‘but I believe God breathed His Spirit on the holy men of old—you might say He inspired them with His thoughts. They took it all down, and others have carefully preserved what they wrote over thousands of years.'' Suddenly, you're glad you stayed awake during the foundations of the Christian faith sermon series.

The lawyer says, ‘‘Is God going to write another book anytime soon?''

‘‘No, the Bible even addresses that. It says that no one should add or take away from what's there. And it says that ‘not one jot or tittle'— not one of the smallest marks in the original Hebrew text—is going to pass away. This book is going to stand for eternity. It's the Word of God.'' At this point, you feel your testimony is going great.

The lawyer takes a step closer and, placing a hand on his hip, says, ‘‘Have you ever read the entire Bible through even one time in your life?''

A hush falls over the courtroom. All eyes are fixed on you. ‘‘Well, I do read the Bible, if that's what you mean.'' You offer a weak smile.

‘‘That's not what I asked,'' the lawyer says. ‘‘I asked if you ever read the entire thing through, just one time?''

You shift in your seat, wishing your pastor didn't have to hear your answer. ‘‘Well, most Christians who go to church have never read the entire Bible through.''

‘‘I'm not interested in what most people do,'' he says, clearly intent on securing a direct response. ‘‘Have you read it one time cover to cover?''

‘‘Um, I don't know if I've read the whole thing, it's a pretty big book.''

‘‘I assume you own a copy. Is that correct?''

‘‘I do.''