Truth Magazine

By Jimmy Tuten

Experience drove home what I knew already: divorce always exacts a toll. In addition to the shame, the hurt, and the bewilderment of your children, there is also the trauma of having to cope with an upheaval that is far worse than the death of a loved one. The dramatic change in one’s life calling for immediate readjustments (sometimes accompanied with great anxiety) produced the shocking reality of being propelled into a harsh and cruel environment. I felt afraid and helpless. Adjusting to new circumstances with its concerns about the unknown was difficult. I now know what it is like to be suddenly single again. I know what it is like to try surviving while wading through a morass of grief and guilt. And worse of all – I know what it is like to be alone.

I simply could not survive without first closing the door on my relationship with my former spouse. My intensive hurt later became anger, an anger I knew had to be dispelled. This was not easy. So many of my problems had to do with the fact that I was a divorced preacher. Those problems did not yield to quick solutions. I had a career to pursue and two fine boys whose lives were broken and were now in need of delicate direction. I knew that each of the tasks would be difficult at best. But what brought me through was my faith in God and his Word (1 Pet. 1:5). I threw myself into my commitment of adding to my faith virtue, knowledge, and the other graces spoken of by Peter (2 Pet. 1:4-11).

I knew my God would sustain me. But first I must make my calling and election sure. And above all else, I must not allow myself to stumble or to fall in the midst of false charges, suspicions, and hypocrisies leveled by brethren who felt they knew the situation better than I did. Even if it took the rest of my life, I was determined to prove myself worthy, both in the sight of men as well as God. I prayed for a strength that only God could provide. And I found the needed vigor. It was and still is, “my God and I” I feel for the person who has no faith to sustain him in time of trouble and tribulation. Because of a strength found in God, I quickly concluded that I had two practical problems that needed to be set in order.

First, I had to arrange management matters and sustain control over emotional upheavals experienced by my boys and myself. I thus fueled my determination with vitality. Second, ever before me was the thought: “I must not falter – I will not falter.” I had two formidable enemies, Satan and self. Self wanted to yield to self pity, to grief, to rejection, etc. But, I knew I could do all things through Christ who strengthens me (Phil. 4:13).

In Perils Among Brethren

Nineteen hundred years ago inspiration had said, “he that sheweth mercy, with cheerfulness. Let love be without dissimulation” (Rom. 12:8-9). I expected my brethren to understand the devastation I was going through. I was shocked to find rejection as a reward for misplaced hope. Divorce has no end, and finding it perpetuated by thoughtless, unheeding friends was a disappointment to me, a setback I did not expect. I desperately needed recognition and support, but it was not there. My loneliness increased and I felt threatened. Had I somehow become an instant threat to them? I had not changed. Rather, it was they who had changed in their feelings toward me. The problem was theirs and not mine. Perhaps I represented what they knew could happen to their own marriages (things were not going that well with some of them) or, was it that they were in a double bind and not wanting to take sides? I did not want them to stop being friends with my former spouse. I simply was in a need of their help. I wanted to know that they were standing by. What made it worse yet was the fact that I was being scape-goated by my former wife. Brethren were drawing conclusions without investigating facts. At first, I tried explaining, but it was futile. Besides, why should I have to defend my actions, especially since our Lord gave the innocent party the right to put away the guilty (Matt. 19:9)? Whenever I went to gospel meetings, lectureships, etc., I saw brethren looking disapprovingly at me and whispering to each other. Some acted Pharisaical, avoiding me as if I had some dreaded disease. Often I went away with ruffled and sick feelings. I felt pathetic, abused, unloved. Was this the love of the brethren (1 Pet. 3:8)? 1 was not being used in meetings, was not called upon to lead prayer when visiting meetings in the area and in some instances my presence would be overlooked in the announcements. I was disillusioned and had the urge to get away from this display of Christianity. I cried and I prayed (Jas. 5:16). I dug deep into the recesses of my soul for patience and the establishing of my heart (Jas. 5:8).

What I still do not understand is the fact that if one’s conduct warranted one’s being “marked” in this way (Rom. 16:17), why was no effort made to restore an erring brother (Jas. 5:19-20)? Have we removed ourselves so far from the spirit of truth that we cannot display kind consideration and concern? Not once did I ever ask for approval. It is sad that brethren repeatedly confused benevolence with unanimity. Our Lord loved the sinner (Jn. 3:16). Can we do less? I think it would have helped if only someone had confronted me with an accusing finger. At least, I would have known that someone cared.

Someone Did Care

A few proved themselves true friends by reaching out and touching me with tender concern. In some instances they silently walked beside me even in the valley. They joyfully sang with me on the mountain top. The better they got to know me, the more determined they were to lend support. How happy am I that friendship encircled my life and became a living thing nourished with kindness, sympathy, and understanding.

It is with sweet memories that I recall the standing invitation for an evening meal and the opportunity just to be with someone. To talk, but not to wear them out. (Others said, “if we can help, let us know,” knowing they would never be asked.) The godly couple with the open door of hospitality were the means of my emotional salvation. The few preachers and business men who bolstered my sinking morale and those across the miles who sacrificed to plione often with their cheering, sincere, “how are you?” stands as a monument to the Word of God: “A friend loveth at all times” (Prov. 17:17).

Two Boys And Their Adjustments

Divorce can be especially difficult if children are involved. How win they react, adjust and mature? Some results cannot be determined until later in years. Many answers remain to be seen in this regard. But trying to make a first-year college student and a thirteen year old understand that I would always be around even though their mother had forsaken them was a task too difficult to put in writing. They had to become adultlike before their time. If they were to learn, accept, become independent and succeed in their field, it would be due in part to their having seen their father do the same. How badly they needed to learn that in life setbacks and successes share equal time. There is a constant struggle and a continuing battle. But I wanted my boys to share the legacy of a Godfearing father’s determination to survive. Maybe being a survivor is our only claim to fame.

Conclusion

What is a divorce like? Perhaps one can understand by considering the parable of the trees: In a forest deep and quiet a pair of trees had endured the competition required for nature’s balance – swaying branches to propell seed, give light and drink to all forms of life. In the fall rains and snows pushed two acorns more firmly into the ground that cradled them. Soon small roots reached down into the soil and tiny branches searched the heavens for light. Two new oak trees were born!

The trees flowered in youthful beauty. Their roots intertwined beneath the forest floor; they reached out and touched; they anchored each other, giving and receiving strength.

An intruder comes into the forest and scoops up one of the trees, moves on, carrying off the oak from its mate. The remaining tree is left with its roots exposed and torn, still clinging to the shorn-off roots of the other tree. What follows is a struggle to remain upright. Storms rage and the tree shudders and wavers in the winds. Its roots clutch the soil, reaching deeper and deeper into the ground.

When morning comes, the oak still stands. The rains that washed the sky pushed the warm earth around its broken roots. Healing begins and the forest protects the tree. The tree finds more room now that the other is gone. Its branches spread out and with the coming of the winds begins to sway again. “But my God shall supply all your need” (Phil. 4:19).

Guardian of Truth XXXII: 17, pp. 520-521, 549
September 1, 1988

By Randall McPherson

We left the house around 3:30 p.m. on that Friday afternoon, July 18, 1975. Bea and I were on our way to Nashville with a group to enjoy the “Friday Night Opry.” Ricky and Mark were on their way to Glasgow to check out a possible buyer for Ricky’s motorcycle. We all planned to be home later that night. Those plans went awry. We would never be together again – at least not in this life.

According to plans, Ricky and Mark, along with a neighbor friend, were on their way home. It was dusk. Ricky was riding single leading the way and Mark was riding double with their friend. Ricky was coming into a curve near the top of a little rise. Suddenly, from nowhere, there was a car in his path. It was coming toward him on the wrong side of the road. The car hit Ricky head-on and then struck the car trailing him. After emerging from his car, the errant driver said to the woman driving the car he had hit, “I hit something before I hit you.” That something was our son, Ricky!

The ambulance came. Ricky lived until they got him to the hospital. In the meantime, the errant driver was allowed to go home. After learning of Ricky’s death, the State Trooper investigating the accident decided that he should administer a breathalyzer test to the man. When he arrived at the man’s house, the trooper learned that the test was useless; the man had been drinking after the accident and had a beer open then. While my son died, his killer was drinking beer! That hurt!

As our bus pulled into the parking lot of the local PCA Office later that night, I sensed something was wrong. I saw many people gathered – too many for that time of night. I saw Dudley Spear, the local preacher and a longtime friend of the family, making his way toward the bus. I knew he was coming for me. He would not tell us what had happened until after Bea and I were inside the car. His words still ring in my ears. They always will. He said, “Ricky is dead!”

Ricky was the third of our four children. He was an eighteen-year-old senior, well-known in the south central Kentucky region. As a high school basketball star, he was admired and loved by many. He had received statewide recognition as a sophomore when he was named to the All State Honorable Mention Team. But more importantly, Ricky was widely known as a young Christian man. He had served at the Lord’s table the Sunday before his death.

As I learned the details of how this careless, beer-drinking man had “murdered” one of our precious sons, I was at a loss for words to describe the feelings that were generated inside my heart. Among other things, I suppose anger stands out. I was angry with the errant man. (I have never met him to this day.) I was angry with the police; why had they not arrested the man at the scene? (I still do not know why.) Why had they waited to give the breathalyzer test? (I stiff do not know.) I was angry with myself. Why had I allowed Ricky to buy this motorcycle two years before? Why hadn’t we stayed home that night? Maybe Ricky would not have gone to Glasgow. The “if’s” flowed like water. I hurt inside.

For the next several weeks I did little except sit around and think about Ricky. Friends continued to come by and offer their condolences. Other well-meaning friends were unwittingly paving the way over which bitterness sometimes travels. I remember one friend who was not a Christian saying, “Randall, all this seems so unfair. Ricky was such a fine young man, and you have given so much of your life in helping people. Why has this tragedy happened in your family?” Many others, both Christian and otherwise, expressed similar thoughts. It would have been very easy for me to have become bitter at this point. Fate was dealing me a bad hand in the game of life (Eccl. 8:14).

If you are expecting me to tell you that, at this point, I turned to the Bible for the answer, you are wrong. I would be dishonest if I told you that. It never occurred to me. The Bible helped all right, but not by what I could glean from it then. It helped at this point in time by the influence it had on my fife in the past. It is difficult to find answers after a problem arises; it is much easier to have the answer before the problem comes. Surely the explanations a preacher gives of certain Scriptures through the years have to have some positive effect upon him, even though he is not conscious of it.

In teaching the Bible for thirty-five years, I have quoted and explained the following Scripture many times. “Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice: And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you” (Eph. 4:31-32).

I usually organize my thoughts on this text along these lines: (1) Bitterness is a word associated with taste, but here it is used to accent a feeling. (2) Bitterness can be overcome; the Bible never tells us to do the impossible (“put away”). (3) Bitterness keeps bad company; it very well could be an umbrella word for the other negative feelings in the verse (“wrath, anger, clamor”). (4) Antidotes for bitterness are kindness, tenderheartedness, and forgiveness (“Be”). Those in danger of falling victim to bitterness would do well to study these verses in this light.

I read the Bible through in the few weeks following Ricky’s death. I had one thing in mind. I wanted to meditate upon every verse that had anything to do with the whereabouts of the dead. I underlined and made notes on every passage that alluded to this. Indirectly, this helped my prevailing attitude tremendously. (It also caused me to modify some former views about the dead.)

Reading about the glories that await the righteous, one must conclude that the righteous are better off than we. If so, why should we be so upset about a Christian leaving us in death? One can easily see why Paul would have “a desire to depart and to be with Christ” (Phil. 1:23) or why he “earnestly desired to be clothed with our habitation from heaven” (2 Cor. 5:2). It is natural for the living to mourn the passing of a loved one, yet, in reality, the deceased are better off than we (Eccl. 4:2). The doctor who attended Ricky in the emergency room told us that had Ricky lived, he would have had severe brain damage and would have been an invalid the rest of his life. Knowing Ricky, he would have chosen I ‘to be with the Lord.” That, my friend, helped!

Somehow, something else took on new meaning as I read the Bible through. God only knows how many times I have preached on forgiveness. But, now, it seemed to have more meaning. The forgiving spirit that Jesus demonstrated in his life seemed to come alive. How could I call myself a disciple and not feel the same way he felt? How could I read passages that demand forgiveness, even to enemies, and hold malice in my heart toward anyone?

How could Jesus do it? I could say “I forgive” and not feel it inside my heart, but Jesus could. Empathy was a wonderful quality that Jesus possessed. He could put himself “in the shoes of others” and truly understand their feelings in any situation. He could “be touched by the feeling of our infirmities” (Heb. 4:15). He has stood in your shoes whosoever you are. Obviously, it would do us all good to stand in another’s shoes sometimes.

While reflecting upon my own life, these questions came to mind. Had I ever at some point in my life been driving on the highway while drinking beer? I am not proud of it, but, yes, I had. Had I ever made a stupid mistake while driving, such as being on the wrong side of the highway? Yes, I had. I continue to be careless and do this sometime. Would I have felt badly if I had caused the death of a child? Yes, it would have been devastating! That poor man made a careless, human mistake that will haunt him for the rest of his life. It just as easily could have been me.

Having considered all this, I felt differently about the man way down deep inside. It was then that I knew I had forgiven him, Remember, true forgiveness is within and not an utterance of the lips. Is not this the antidote I mentioned?

Conclusion

I suppose I should leave some kind of advice to any who may be trying to keep seeds of bitterness from developing in their own lives. Consider seriously these thoughts.

The first thing one should do is to honestly evaluate the situation. Is the matter over which you are becoming bitter really as bad as it seems? Remember, even the death of the righteous is a blessing unless we selfishly look at it. Try to see as God sees. Remember, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints” (Psa. 116:15).

Secondly, if the bitterness is caused by a person, work hard at forgiving him. You can if you will put yourself in his place. Consider his upbringing and circumstances. If you had been him, would you have acted differently? In all likelihood, you have done some of the same things he has done. Do you remember Jesus saying, “He that is without sin, cast the first stone” (Jn. 8:7)?

Thirdly, read the Bible. Read it regularly. Hear these inspired messengers firsthand. This daily exposure to the fine principles set forth in the Scriptures will surely innoculate you from the terrible disease of bitterness. Jesus said, “. . . Learn of me, and you shall find rest for your souls” (Matt. 11:28-30).

Bitterness is a poison that can prove fatal to the Christian. Deal with it early before it can invade every facet of your life.

Guardian of Truth XXXII: 17, pp. 525-526
September 1, 1988

By Earl Kimbrough

The beautiful twenty-third Psalm is a song of faith. It abounds with assurance of God’s guidance and protection. There is mention of danger of enemies, both past and present, but it is muted by David’s trust in the perpetual presence and ceaseless care of God. The psalm begins with an affirmation of faith for time and ends with an expression of hope for eternity. Its message is couched in figures in which the psalmist sees himself first as a journeying sheep in the hands of a gentle shepherd (vv 1-4) and then as a permanent guest in the house of a gracious host (vv. 5,6). But each facet of this lyrical jewel is centered in the believer’s walk with God that calms his fears and gives peace to his soul each day of his life.

1. Faith in the Shepherd’s Care (vv. 1-3). “The Lord is my Shepherd.” These words declare the simplicity of David’s faith in God as the one who laid the foundations of the earth and made the morning stars sing together, yet is ever mindful of his lowly creatures (see Psa. 138:6). As he sorrowed over whatever troubled him at the time of writing, he claimed the trust he learned as the shepherd of his father’s sheep on the perilous hills near Bethlehem. He knew that the Divine Shepherd who had delivered him from the paw of the lion and the bear would deliver him from every affliction. The most telling word in the sentence is “my.” David saw the Lord as his own Shepherd. This implies an abiding companionship with God in which he continually meditated on his words, walked in his law, and communed with him in prayer.

“I shall not want.” David rose to be king of Israel, but he never rose above a constant awareness of his dependence on God for all things. No faithful child of God ever reaches the place where he can say, “I am rich, have become wealthy, and have need of nothing” (Rev. 3:17). We, like David, must always remember our reliance on God for every good thing in due season. But we cannot have freedom from want without condition. While God sends rain alike on the just and the unjust, only the just may claim the promise, “And my God shall supply all your need” (Phil. 4:19; see Heb. 4:16). None today can say in truth, “The Lord is my Shepherd,” unless he follows Christ, the Good Shepherd who knows his sheep and is known of them (Jn. 10:14).

“He makes me to lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside the still waters.” The picture here does not portray the needs of life so much as the righteous rest that God gives the burdened pilgrim. The tender grass and quiet waters are an invitation to a cool and refreshing repose on a hot and weary day. There is work to do and there are dark valleys to cross, but God provides peaceful meadows for his faithful sheep. “Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me” (Psa. 138:7). When problems pressed upon David and his spirit was ready to sink under their weight, the Lord revived his strength to endure and overcome them. God so wisely balances our labors and rests, and our sorrows and joys, that we are moved to ask, “How can a holy God deal so graciously with a sinner like me?”

“He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.” The writer for the moment drops the metaphor to declare his spiritual renewal. His life, like all servants of God, no doubt had many restorations. Once when he took another’s man wife and Nathan rebuked him, he repented and God restored him to his favor. To restore the soul is to bring it back from the brink of destruction. God refreshes us when we are weary, he comforts us when we are troubled, and he restores us when we stray. But he does not restore our souls that we may continue in sin. He restores us that we may walk with him in the paths of righteousness, which he shows us in his word (Jer. 23:10). “For His name’s sake” may mean that God restores us and leads us that his name may be exalted. Our greatest mission is to glorify the name of God.

2. Faith in Time of Trouble (v. 4). “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” “The valley of the shadow of death” calls to mind a ravine overhung with cliffs and foliage that casts dark shades over the dangers that lurk along the path below. Such a place is well calculated to arouse dread in the fragile sheep, but his Shepherd knows every pitfall and precipice, and the way of every preying beast that could endanger him there. Under his direction and care, the sheep has no cause for fear. His Shepherd is ever with him and the symbols of his office, the club for the foes and the crook for the pits, calm his trembling heart. Those who have God as their companion need fear no danger to their soul for his way is plain and is presence assured. Only when we forsake him to walk in our own way is there reason to be afraid (Prov. 14:12).

“The valley of the shadow of death” is expressive of any danger or cause of fear that may arise to trouble one’s life. But this does not exclude the greatest valley through which all must pass, and to which the phrase is popularly applied: the valley of death itself. God’s promised presence, his rod and his staff, comfort us also in that dark and dreadful hour. As he safely guides us through every danger in our present life, so he will safely guide us when we make our final departure from it (see Luke 16:22). There is no cause of fear for the righteous in death for, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints” (Psa. 116:15). The Lord said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb. 13:5). This promise does not stop at the river’s edge. But we cannot expect God to be with us in death, if we refuse to be with him in life.

3. Faith in God’s Goodness and Mercy (vv. 5,6). “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over.” David now sees God as a benevolent and protective host in whose house he is a guest. There God fully supplies his every lack and fills his heart with surpassing joy, which even the presence of enemies cannot mar. Ancient laws of hospitality required the host to provide food, companionship, and security for his guests. The table implies the psalmist’s personal communion with God. Anointing the head with oil was a mark of special honor and suggests divine favor. God exalts all who find refuge in his house. The overflowing cup represents the fullness of God’s blessings. The feast in the sight of enemies indicates the safety of God’s children in the midst of- a hostile world. Nothing men may do can separate the faithful child of God from his Father.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” The goodness and mercy of God are ever present with his servant. They are both the fruit of God’s presence and the reason for it. David seems to have looked back over his difficult and troubled life to remember that God’s goodness and mercy had attended each step of his way. Based on his friendship with God and the promises of his word, he looked to the future with confidence that these marvelous virtues of God would keep him safely to his journey’s end. The day is not too long, too dark, or too stormy for the goodness and mercy of God to shine through to those who love him.

“And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” The reference is to Israel (Heb. 3:5,6). To dwell in God’s house means to live with him among his people. David saw himself as always in fellowship with God. He said, “One thing I have desired of the Lord, This will I seek; That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life” (Psa. 27:4). He was in God’s house then and he expected to be in God’s house through eternity. Christ said, “In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there you may be also” (Jn. 14:2,3). The church is God’s house today and it will one day be delivered up to live forever with the Lord in his heavenly home (Rev. 21:3).

The Twenty-Third Psalm describes the believer’s constant communion with God, which calms his fears and brings peace to his soul. All whose Shepherd is the Lord can have the assurance David had in his Divine Friend. The psalm teaches us to trust God for every need of body and soul. It teaches us to depend on God for guidance, to lean on him in trouble, and to hope in him for eternity. A thoughtful and prayerful study of the psalmist’s sublime song can help us understand what it means to truthfully say, “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.”

Guardian of Truth XXXII: 17, pp. 534-535
September 1, 1988

By O.C. Birdwell, Jr.

“If we had only hoped in Christ in this life, we are of all men most pitiable” (1 Cor. 15:19).

When one stands beside the open grave of a son who is near his twentieth year of age these words have a deeper and more profound meaning they have ever had before. In 1 Corinthians 15, where the above passage is found, the apostle Paul presents the gospel of Jesus Christ and proclaims the resurrection of Christ as a vital part of that gospel. His resurrection is the basis for the abiding hope of men and women of faith that they and their sons and daughters will be raised. The apostles “witnessed of God that he raised up Christ.” Paul affirms that God also, by Christ, will raise us up. This is what faith in Christ is all about. This faith and hope becomes a sustaining force when one looks into the face of a cold and lifeless body and contemplates the finality of death, knowing that there will never be from him another smile, or touch, or embrace, and there will never be another “I will see you later” from his lips. It takes some time for one to set over expecting to hear his voice, see him come into the house, or find him in his bedroom or in his regular places. indeed, our hope in Christ must reach beyond this life.

On June 1, 1972, our son Gary died as a result of a commercial accident at his place of summer employment. It was almost exactly sixteen years before the time I began this article. Many have had a similar loss, and if time continues many others will have like losses. It may be that some of the things I have learned and some of the emotions I have experienced will help another under similar circumstances. Consequently, I would like to share with the readers of this journal some of the things I have learned.

I have learned that death comes at all ages. Yes, I knew this before, but it was not impressed on my mind with the same meaning. At Gary’s death I continued to ask, “What difference does a few years make?” In my immediate family there had been death all the way from a tiny infant to a grandfather near ninety-five years of age. Now my son was dead at age twenty. I learned that emphasis should not be put on mere length of life, but on the quality of life. It seems that some live, but only to mark time. They do not glorify God, serve Christ, or help others, and often they do not even please themselves. Without repentance, a long life for such a person is of no value to anyone. Let us learn to use every day we have as if it were our last. It may be our last.

I learned the concern of some and the carelessness of others. At his summer job, Gary cleaned railroad cars and dosed the bottom doors. This required his working under the car. Three loaded cars that were up the track were accidently released. They rammed the one under which he worked, pinning him underneath the car. The call came from Maury County Hospital, “Your son is seriously injured.” We rushed over to find that a local surgeon had provided some relief from pain and applied bandages. He told us that Gary had internal injuries, and that if he had a chance it would be at Vanderbilt University Hospital which was forty miles away. He was placed in an emergency ambulance. I sat by the driver. Just beyond my arm’s reach at Gary’s head was a young man holding an oxygen mask, and at Gary’s side was a young woman constantly checking his vital signs. They were both near Gary’s age. I never see an emergency ambulance with lights flashing that I am not reminded of the question I asked over and over as we were speeding toward Nashville. “Why will the drivers in these cars not get out of the way?” Many would not pull their cars over, although our lights were blinding and sirens deafening. I learned that I ought to get out of the way of emergency ambulances.

I also learned that professional people are often emotionally involved in their work. We were about rive minutes from the hospital. There was a little flurry of activity by both attendants. Suddenly they became still. There was ample light so I could see into the face of the young woman. She looked at me and did not say a word. She did not need to say a word. Her face was white as if every drop of blood had drained away. Her expression told me the complete story. Our son was no longer among the living. At the emergency room he was removed from the ambulance with my assistance, and rushed into an adjoining room. I gave information to the hospital attendant and was joined in the waiting room by a young man whom I thought was a hospital employee. The doctor returned to tell me what I already knew; our son was dead. As I waited I told the young man that on many similar occasions I had been with others and had offered advice and tried to comfort. Now I must apply to myself the advice I gave and counsel I offered to others. As I left I learned that the young man who was helping me by listening was a hospital chaplain.

I learned to accept comfort and help from friends and relatives. Jesus came to a city called Nain. Luke says, “Now when he drew near to the gate of the city, behold, there was carried out one that was dead, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her” (Lk. 7:12). The Lord saw the widow and had compassion. It is notable in this account that “much people of the city was with her. ” This, no doubt, was a help and comfort to her in her time of sorrow. Loved ones, if possible, be there to give comfort in time of such need. Also, those who sorrow should accept the comfort of friends and relatives. Do not draw into a shell, isolate yourselves, and close others out. A great friend and brother in Christ came to our house and sat for a long period of time. He, by nature, is a quiet man and little was said. He confessed, “I don’t know what to say.” I responded, “You do not need to say anything. Your being here says it all.”

In 1957, my youngest brother, at twenty-one, died in an automobile accident. My mother was forty-four when he was born and at his death was sixty-five. I was preaching in Arkansas and left immediately when news came of his death. On the way I stopped and tarried for several hours with two other brothers. When I arrived at my parents’ home my mother was in bed and extremely distraught. I lay down beside her and began to talk to her. She became responsive and with my help and the comfort from other sons, she soon got up and began to greet people. I have so often regretted my delay. I should have gone immediately to her side and have done what I could to comfort. I now understand more fully her despair and deep sorrow.

I learned that during times of such sorrow one could be influenced to interpret Scripture in keeping with his situation. I mean by this that one might, under emotional stress, interpret passages in keeping with the supposed spiritual condition of the deceased loved one. I was not tempted to do this, but I have talked to others who were. I have been blessed with the knowledge that, while our son had made grievous mistakes, he had repented of them and worked diligently to make corrections. He was active in worship and spiritual work. Some time before his death, and while I was away in a gospel meeting, he spoke one Sunday evening where I regularly preached. We have what he said on tape, but since his death I have not had the courage to play the tape. We could not know, however, his spirit, and therefore we could not know without any possibility of mistake his true relationship with God. Many have not been blessed with confidence and hope as have we. Some are extremely distressed, and feel that their sons died outside of Christ or unfaithful to Christ, and are, therefore, eternally lost. Indeed, this is a possibility in every case.

I have learned that following death one should not be anxious about the spiritual condition and state of the deceased, and definitely should not judge the deceased. This is not our prerogative. God alone shall judge by Jesus Christ. Let us teach, admonish, and warn while there is life. When death comes let us be content knowing that all opportunities have passed and are out of our hands. His spirit is now in the hands of the all-knowing, everlasting God, who does all things well. Remember too, that in the eternal scheme of things one soul is as important to God as another. May God forbid, but if my son or your son should be lost, maybe we can live and work to have influence to the saving of another soul that is just as valuable in the sight of God.

Dear friend, what I am saying is that we should not accept Calvinistic doctrines such as the imputed righteousness of Christ, continuous cleansing apart from repentance and prayer, and salvation for those who do the best they know, in order for us to feel good about the eternal state of our loved ones who have died. One cannot successfully change the doctrine of Christ to fit his own situation. This practice might be called “situation doctrine,” but like “situation ethics,” is not Bible doctrine and is just as unacceptable.

I learned that sincere, well-meaning, loving people will try to comfort by making uninformed and unscriptural statements. Some will say, “The Lord saw fit to take him.” My answer is, this is true only in the sense that he allowed it to be done. God did not decide to take the life of our son with a railroad boxcar. Let us not blame God for something he did not do. We live in the flesh. We suffer the maladies of the flesh. We work in dangerous places, with heavy equipment, and even drive dangerous vehicles. The natural consequence of this is death from diseases, accidents, and numerous other sources. If anyone is to be blamed for this condition it is Satan and not God. Yes, I know, Job said, “Jehovah gave and Jehovah hath taken away; blessed be the name of Jehovah” (Job 1:21). Again I say, God allowed it to be so with Job. The same is so with reference to our sufferings. Let us not sin by charging God foolishly (Job 1:22).

I have learned more insight into such passages as Romans 8:28. Some would say that, for the Christian, such tragic events are “good,” since the Bible says, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God” (Rom. 8:28). I want to answer that position and close this article with a lengthy quotation from a long letter written to my wife Frances and me the day after the funeral. The letter is from a preacher friend and loved one who, without doubt, has done more to help me in my preaching work than any other person. His comfort, advice, and counsel continue to be appreciated. During the intervening sixteen years, his insight into the matter has proven to be completely correct.

An incident like this is one that you really never get over. There is no point in kidding ourselves about that. There will be a certain blight over your life for the remainder of your days. Probably the experience will so affect your heart that you will be able to reach out to people in a way that you never quite could do so before. I believe that a lot of brethren have severely misapplied Romans 8:28 and try to make whatever occurs as “good” where as Paul specifically was talking about suffering for Christ being for our good. Such an accident is one of the misfortunes of life. I know you had such high hopes for Gary and the use he would make for his life. No doubt in my mind, he would have followed in your steps and preached the gospel, which intention itself is a noble tribute to both of you. So many preachers have murmured and complained about their sufferings as preachers until preaching is the last thing their sons would want to do.

I wish so badly there were somehow some way that I could lift a part of your burden and bear it for you, but as we both know, there is no real way that such can be done. I can only weep with you as you weep. Beyond this we seem to be unable to go. There are apt to be days when the burden may tempt you be become bitter and cynical, but resist that temptation as much as possible. The admirable way that you conducted yourself during the funeral service makes me even hesitate to mention that admonition. Perhaps I am only thinking as I might think, in similar circumstances.

This admonition, advice, and comfort is the kind I would like to give to our readers and to all who may suffer. I would that I could do it so ably and so eloquently.

Guardian of Truth XXXII: 17, pp. 527-529, 550
September 1, 1988