So I’m here right now, glaring at my computer screen, listening to Pandora, and about to rip my chemistry lab manual apart because I’m so confused about what I’m supposed to do for the lab write-up. It’s Sunday. I’ve been working on stuff all weekend, (sorta). I feel like my brain is going to explode if I find another error in my work.

It’s at these times when I receive inspiration in the strangest ways. And today, the inspiration came from the death of someone I knew. This morning, I logged onto facebook to find out that a student from my school died of cancer after a long time of fighting it. I’m not sure how to take it: he was ready for it to happen because the doctors gave him warning, yet I still cannot believe he is no longer with us. He was young.

So here I am, among the agenda of academics, just sitting still for a little bit, still listening to Pandora… reflecting.

I talked to Ian during a worship night, when he explained that he wished to be closer to God. My friend, Isaac, and I both gave him advice and shared our experiences. I explained how being close to God could be intense, and gave the example of a time when I was prayed for by five married adult couples that I may be free from the enemy’s strongholds and bondage (that particular time of prayer lasted until midnight). His eyes widened… “you were prayed for for two hours?” I nodded… and at that time I was encouraged that Ian was thinking and reflecting what being with God really meant and how being disciplined is like an aroma pleasing to God.

Now, over three years later, Ian has lived a life of fellowship with God, and is now with God.

I wonder what kind of things a doctor feels when a patient dies. The pain of knowing that there was a way to cure someone, but the timing was wrong and it was too late…  The fear for the patient that is staring at me face to face asking me “am I going to die?” The immense sorrow of me nodding my head and trying not to overemphasize it… The gesture of looking at my watch to record the time this patient breathed his last. I shudder, I choke, I gag… I weep.

I can only observe that because we are human, we fear the end of ourselves. The only thing that sustains us during the last minutes of our lives is the Lord himself. I can just picture myself, as I die, falling into a dream, where I stand before a canyon. Jesus is on the other side, and his palms face me. He lets his blood flow out of him, and it hardens, forming a bridge from my side to his.

Sounds so much better than writing a lab report, huh?

Ian, you are now in Christ’s embrace. I rejoice in your life. The Kingdom awaits.