Heaven’s Gate
Gary A. Fritz on Touching Eternity Through the Death of a Believer
In the summer of 2010 my son Micah set out on a short-term mission trip to Panama. Naturally, my wife and I took him to the airport, whereupon I was reminded again of the sad new world in which we live. Upon checking his luggage, instead of venturing down to the gate to see him off, we were forced to exchange our hugs and bid adieu as Micah joined the long, arduous line at the security checkpoint. Regrettably, gone are the days when airports were fully accessible to anyone who wished to meet or send off friends or family right at the gate.
As a child, I was always enthralled at the prospect of going to the airport. It was a magical place of adventure and mystery. Watching the monstrous jets land and take off invited the imagination to places such as New York City, Paris, or Rome. What is more, in being able actually to walk to the gate to say good-bye or welcome someone home, and to see the jet and all the passengers, I was able to become a part of the trip in a small way. If we were sending someone off, I was connected to the trip and to the destination. If someone was flying in, I was likewise connected in some mystical, yet physical manner to where they had been.
And that was precisely what I was missing when we dropped off our son for his journey. Denied to me was that connection to both the experience and the destination. Moreover, I would not even be able to see the jet that would fly him on his adventure.
Taken to the Gate
One morning shortly before Thanksgiving of that same year, I had a connecting experience of a different kind, but one illustrated by a send-off at the airport. On that particular morning, I sat in the living room of a dear woman, Christa, who was dying of cancer. For some six years the disease had attacked and ravaged, but never defeated her. Being in the presence of this woman of deep faith in Jesus Christ was one of the most exhilarating experiences I have ever had, for without trying, she was able to take me to the gate. In a profound sense, while she was waiting in the terminal for her flight to leave, I was able to join her for a brief moment at the point of embarkation. There I sat, chatting with someone who very likely would be in the presence of our Lord within days, perhaps weeks, certainly no more than a few months. It was almost surreal, more so than being in the presence of a jet that would soon land far away.
Imagine, if you will, knowingly chatting with and touching someone who would soon be doing the same with the risen, victorious Jesus Christ. Perhaps that is an odd thing to consider. I realize full well that a significant chasm exists between our world and the “hereafter.” As Christians, we do not embrace the Egyptian-like belief in sending the dead into the netherworld with possessions and tokens that will help them in the afterlife. But it was tantalizing to imagine that here, in Christa, a person who would soon be “there,” I could reach out and almost touch eternity. When I touched her hand, I was keenly aware that she would soon be touching Jesus. The sensation was like the one I had when watching the end clips from the movie The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, specifically the scene in which the wardrobe stands alone in the otherwise empty room, its door slightly ajar, and emanating from within it the unmistakable, beckoning light that could only be shining out of Narnia.
In this case, Christa’s bags were already packed, so to speak, and she was indeed ready for her trip. When she talked about her death, her eyes brightened as she considered going to meet her Lord. These were not the ramblings of a woman in some medically induced stupor, longing to be rid of the pain. This was the anticipation of a faithful pilgrim who was ready to leave this vale of tears, the “shadowlands,” as C. S. Lewis called life here, and move “further up and further in.”
Something to Anticipate
Christa was at a place in both life and faith where she spoke about her death with the anticipation of an excited traveler. As her guest, I found this invigorating. All too often the topic of death is avoided, treated as a morbid reality to be sidestepped except when absolutely inevasible. Generally, we give a wide berth to the “valley of the shadow of death.” While death is a pilgrimage that we all must make, many seem to approach the topic with an air of denial—pretending that it only happens to others, ignoring it, and, like a student with his homework, hoping it will go away.
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