Live Dangerously
By Johann Christoph Arnold
What does it mean to live with an awareness of our dependence on God?
For
Adela, a young woman I knew who was struck down with Hodgkin's disease,
it meant accepting his intervention in her life even when it meant
relinquishing her dreams, and refusing to let cancer stop her from looking
forward to the future. Adela was diagnosed in the prime of her life, at
twenty-five, and was in love at the time. Illness might have altered the
picture for another couple, but not for her and Sergei. In fact, far from
throwing a wrench in their relationship, it only confirmed what they already
felt: that regardless of her health, her life was in God's hands, and
that
there was no reason to break off their plans to be engaged and married.
I married Sergei and Adela in August 1985, and I will never forget the
conviction with which they answered one question I asked them: "Will you
bear with your spouse in joy and in sorrow, in health and in sickness,
until
death parts you?" Never had that question seemed so important and real.
Humanly, the new marriage didn't seem to make sense: it began against
the
backdrop of a grueling series of chemotherapy treatments, the first of
which
left Adela in critical condition. For the next three years, she had to
undergo
almost continual chemotherapy with multiple complications and frequent
hospitalizations. Through it all, Sergei remained loyally at her side.
Later her specialists recommended a more intensive protocol, part of which
involved a bone marrow transplant. She underwent this, too, but the benefits
were short-lived. Finally she decided to decline all further treatment.
An outgoing person from childhood on, Adela never lost her sense of humor.
When chemo made her hair fall out, she painted herself, dressed up as
a
clown and went from ward to ward, trying to cheer up fellow hospital
patients. When the impossibility of having children hit home, she resisted
self-pity, and suggested to Sergei that they try to adopt a child. As
often
happens, their attempts were soon snarled by red tape, but that didn't
stop
them. Sergei even brought home a crib, and Adela prepared a layette. But
nothing ever came of it.
In January 1989, after three years of marriage, Adela died. Shortly before,
she wrote to her husband:
"Please, when I die remember that I was no hero, that I couldn't always
accept God's will, that I was a sinner, that I failed in service and love
to
others, that I knew despair, depression, fear and doubt, and other
temptations of the devil. Remember, too, that I loved laughter better
than
tears, that you can die with cancer but you can also live with it and
joke
about it. Please don't keep things because I made them or wrote them.
They
are only earthly things and nothing special. Remember rather that God's
will
has no "why?"--that his way is best, always; that he loves us even when
we
don't love him, and that in the church you never stand alone; that hope
is
greater than despair and faith is greater than fear, and that God's power
and kingdom one day will be victorious over everything..."
She also wrote a poem that Sergei has also allowed me to print:
Beloved Sergei
you may find this as hard to read
as I found it hard to write
but I had to write it
even though it may be many years
before you will need it
I may outlive you although
I can't see how I could live without you
only God knows our hour
but if my time comes
God willing please be near
and tell me that it is the end
and ask me if I'm ready to meet my maker
and hold my hand
pray for forgiveness of my sins
and pray for peace for my soul
and I'll pray for comfort for yours
and fight for you and love you
through all eternity.
As a cliché, "live dangerously" evokes rash judgments and risks
taken on a
whim. But as Sergei and Adela's short marriage shows, that is not all
there
is to it. There is something deadening about going through life
cautiously--testing the water, toeing the line. But there is nothing as
exhilarating as living it to the full. It requires rising to challenges
that
come your way, rather than evading them; sticking out your neck, instead
of
hiding in the crowd. It means daring to take false steps-and leaps of
faith.
And the reward, as we have seen, is calmness in the face of death.
Excerpted from 'Be Not Afraid', by Johann Christoph Arnold.
Available as a free e-book at http://www.christopharnold.com
Author Bio: Johann Christoph Arnold is a trusted spiritual counselor whose
books (on such diverse topics as parenting, sexuality, forgiveness, death
and dying, and finding peace) have sold over 300,000 copies in English
and
have been translated into 18 foreign languages.