Life without death is as lopsided as a life without children. We hate death. We love birth. There is unfairness in death; a frankness we are unaccustomed to. Today my friends died. Two pilots and two crewmen flying the same helicopter I fly. Flying the same mission I fly regularly. The same schools. The same teachers. Two pilots and two crewmen crashed the same bird I may have flown.
I am shaken at the fragility of life. The spark of life is precious and fleeting. To an eternal God we must surely be as Solomon elegantly wrote, ‘a wisp of smoke’. The simple truth of the matter is we are soft and most of reality is tangibly hard.
The drive to Kuwait City today provided ample time to contemplate the tender balance between life and death, safety and danger, fear and living. That I’ve experienced more enjoyable times of quiet and introspection goes without saying. However, it is a topic I unfortunately expect to be a running theme throughout my life.
My morose and somber mood required placating, much as the Jews did when they asked Jesus who’s sin was at fault causing the tower to fall and kill their kinsmen. My questions were of the same vein, but of a more secular nature. I wanted to know what went wrong. What happened? Was it mechanical? Was it pilot error? It was the middle of the day, how did they crash?
These questions seemed as logical as the curiosities that plagued the Israelites. There is nothing wrong with the question, but I think it misses a central truth: God has numbered our days before there was even one. The fact is, we are not promised a single hour. Life is not our right. The Founding Fathers got this one wrong. We are at the liege of the Creator.
Luke 12:20, ‘But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your soul is required of you; and now who will own what you have prepared?’
Clearly our lifespan is in no way a surprise to God. David understood this when he wrote in Psalms 139:
‘O Lord. You have searched me and know me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
You understand my thoughts from afar.
You scrutinize my path and my lying down
And are intimately acquainted with all my ways.
Even before there is a word on my tongue,
Behold, O Lord, You know it all.
You have enclosed me behind and before,
And laid Your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
It is too high, I cannot attain to it.
Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.
If I take the wings of the dawn,
If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,
Even there your hand will lead me,
And Your right hand will lay hold of me.
If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,
And the light around me will be night,’
Even the darkness is not dark to You,
And the night is as bright as the day.
Darkness and light are alike to You.
For you formed my inward parts;
You wove me in my mother’s womb.
I will give thanks to You,
For I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;
Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;
And in Your book were all written
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them…’
Our days were number before there was even one. Amazing. It takes the guesswork out of the equation. Our final moment is a variable to us, but a constant to Him.
I’m reminded of the scene in the movie Gods and Generals. Scanning the field laden with his fallen comrads, a fresh faced, Virginian officer asked General Jackson how he stood so brave in the face of the horrors of the battle. Captain James Power Smith: ‘General Jackson, how is it you remain so calm in the midst of battle?’ General Jackson: ‘Mr. Smith, my religious faith teaches me that God has already fixed the time of my death; therefore, I think not of it. I am as calm in battle as I would be in my own parlor. God will come for me in his own time.’ The man soon to become known as ‘Stonewall’ answered in the same vain as David. My paraphrase: ‘God has predestined the day of my death; my fear shall not cause it to tarry nor my bravery to hasten. Why then should I fear?’
Here in lies the problem. I am not Stonewall Jackson much less David. My apprehension of death and sorrow for my fallen comrades has yet to be abated despite what is written above. I cannot shake the idea that my friend’s lives were in some way snatched from them. I chose the word ‘snatched’ very carefully as it conjures ideas of violence and impetuousness.
In my mind I thought through the last few moments in the cockpit. I felt the calm, mind emptying feeling of helplessness. For those of you who have never truly felt fear or stared down death with an unwavering eye, it may be difficult to understand how everything slows to a stop. There is a moment of reflection when you realize how helpless you are. The reality of your situation washes over you much like the dulling effect of an anesthetic. You give over to the idea of your fate.
My mind’s eye pictured a halcyon last moment. A look of sorrow and acceptance coming over my friends as they look at each other. Perhaps they grasp hands across the center consol, as they know it is the end. The last moment of serenity before the chaos.
I wish it were so. Reality tends away from this coloration. A new picture flooded my glum imagination. It was one of fighting. A resistance. My friend knowing it was his responsibility to save the lives of the crew. The screams of terror. Then the violence. The tossing. The discombobulating. Water filling the helicopter as the weight of the transmission sadistically turned it upside-down as it immediately sunk, tracing a lessoning parabola to the bottom of the cold dark ocean.
I hate this thought. It’s not fair. Why must this be the reality? I can barely stand it. I want to lash out. Tears are in my eyes this very moment. Why were their souls required of them now, in this way?
I thought about their day. I’m sure he woke up and shaved like every morning. His easy smile and quick wit rested for a full day. Her lacing her boots in the same outside over inside manner she does every day wondering what her husband is doing this very moment. Him worried his hairline is receding. Her brushing her teeth. &c.
Did they know today was the day which God destined for their reckoning? Did they feel the foreboding sense that today their soul was required of them? Did the crewmen have any idea when they made their way up the ladder-well to the briefing room that this was the last joke they would ever make, the last time they would laugh, the last time they would sing? What will my day be like the day my soul is required of me? What will my response be?
Innate is the desire to preserve life, to cling to the hope of a long peaceful existence. Why? ‘Vanity, vanity, all is but vanity.’ Yet it is innate. We, rather I, simply cannot shake it. Benjamin Franklin once said, ‘those who would sacrifice freedom for safety deserve neither.’ For years I hung this quote in a political frame. As I re-examine, I think it stretches far beyond what Mr. Franklin intended. God calls us to live life. We are exhorted, nay, instructed to fear not those who can kill the body and do nothing more, rather Him who can kill the body and cast the soul into hell (Luke 12). Moreover, we are reminded in 2 Timothy 1:7, ‘For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline.’
It is so easy to take the events such as happened today and curl into the fetal ball of self-preservation. For some it is to hold onto relationships in a way as to think it protection. For others it is to push everything away as it is to slip through the fingers anyway, why form the bond only to lose it. This chasm between freedom and safety, holding and loosing is not so great as it seems.
For life without risk is no life. There is no reward not borne from sacrifice or danger. For me, it means climbing back into the helicopter, when all my feelings of self-preservation say the odds are always stacked in favor of the house, quit while you are ahead. But I will not live in timidity. I will not live fearing those (and that) who can kill the body. For that is not living.
My heart breaks for the loss of my friends. But I will praise God. Yes I will praise God. My heart breaks for the families of my lost comrades. But I will praise the Almighty. Yes I will praise the Almighty. My heart breaks yet still He is God.
Oh, Luke. My heart is breaking for you and for their families. This essay was sublime- thank you for sharing with us. I am shedding tears with you, but am comforted that: “Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.” How kind He is to give us such hope.
I am greatly encouraged and emboldened by your words. These past two weeks have been extremely difficult ones, and I sense that you have been changed, and by God’s power made more mature. Thank you for writing these painful words, but words of life. We continue to pray for you and for the families that lost a son or daughter.
We read your words this morning before going to church and it definitely impacted us. When Daniel was leading worship today at church, he used your story as a way to introduce the song “Blessed Be Your Name” by Matt Redman. Like you, he used your words to remind us that God should be praised in “a land that is plentiful,” “in the desert place,” “when the sun’s shining down on me, ” or “on the road marked with suffering,” and that God is always worthy to receive our adoration regardless the situation as His ways are not our ways and His thoughts are not our thoughts. I echo your mother, “thank you for writing these painful words.” We will continue to pray for your courage, your safety and the families of the fallen.
Luke, your words give me courage as I seek the Lord’s will. My life is not my own, this scares me, but then I realize how uncapable I am to keep my own life. Gladly I offer every moment and breath to the Lord. I am thinking of your always.
Luke, your response is admirable and right on. Thank you for helping us all see the right way to handle suffering. The most dangerous place in the world to be is outside the will of God. Life is a vapor and our time for death is already appointed. Further, we see “the tower” fall on our friends, and Jesus tells us how to respond to this…(repent)-Luke 13:3. In the end of Solomon’s rantings on the meaning of life he concludes with, “Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is whole duty of man.” Your response is an encouragement to my faith in Christ and my walk with God. I love you and you are on my heart. Wouldn’t life stink without Christ? We have so much hope.
So true, raw and pure emotion! What a massive teaching moment, as my faith grows deeper and deeper in Him. Prayers are with you today, holding you tightly.