“So this is what it feels like right before you die.”
I will never forget that thought, or the peace that accompanied it.
I was around eight years old on that fateful day in June when my mom, on a whim, decided to load up the family and head to a local lake in an effort to escape the full heat of a typical Louisiana day. The miles seemed to fly by as we neared our destination. At eight years of age, the world still held endless mysteries, and nothing was impossible. Each bridge we encountered, each deserted barn we spotted, and every shadowy treeline we passed, contained the possibility of endless adventures or dangers.
Danger.
It was a word I had heard and seen a million times.
I saw people in danger on television everyday. I had heard songs about the dangers of life. I had even listened to my dad and his friends talk about the dangers of war and marriage, but I had never, ever experienced danger in a personal way.
I didn’t realize when I left my house that morning that I would never be the same. I had no idea that death was pacing me every mile I traveled, waiting and watching for its moment to pounce. I was blissfully unaware, as only an eight year old can be, that I would come face-to-face with the realization of my own mortality.
The water was waiting.
Perhaps I read too many Stephen King books as a teenager or maybe it is a result of the wisdom gained since that fateful day so many years ago. Whatever the case, I know what I know, and I know the water was waiting. Like a snake biding its time nestled in what appears to be a harmless pile of leaves, or that new neighbour four doors down who, for reasons you cannot fully explain even to yourself, causes you to turn around as he passes you in the hallway and double-check the locks on your doors before bed…an inexplicable feeling that you have caught the attention of something best left interested (distracted) in anything, everything else but you!
I can close my eyes and still vividly picture my younger self slowly walking towards the water. The anticipation (fear) of actually being in something with which I had always been respectfully fascinated. Water covers 71% of the Earth’s surface. Some say that the waters of the world remain the only truly undiscovered “country” within human reach. A substance that is absolutely vital in sustaining life but also a stealthy taker of it as well. I am reminded of Ananias and Sapphira in the Book of Acts and how God smote them (I LOVE that archaic word! Go ahead, try using it in a sentence today!) for lying about shady real-estate dealings (Acts 5). While not specifically stated word for word in the Holy Writ, the popular statement “God gives life and He can take it away!” carries a lot of psychological and theological weight!
Lying to or about Daddy God may get you as dead as a door nail (just ask Jim Jones), but so can lying to yourself. You see, we humans have this almost insatiable need to convince ourselves that we are the ones in control. However, even the very elements we shakily claim to have mastered continue to strike back at us in such ways that cause us to remember that we do not even control or command the next breath we take. My younger self was about to discover just how fragile and precious life actually is.
It happened so very fast! I was slowly walking into the chilly waters, each small step causing shivers and goose pimples to cascade over my body. I didn’t know how to swim, but I was a very careful child. After all, if something was going to happen, it would surely happen to my daredevil, younger brother. He was the one who always pushed the envelope when it came to stunts sure to land you in the ER, or worse yet, grounded! One shuffling step at a time I moved forward. Yep, that has always been my style.
I was captivated with the sights and sounds around me. The sound of the water striking the shore, the magical shrills of laughter and the fake indignation that only comes from teen girls being splashed by their “crushes” of the day. The colourful boats in the distance resembled sentries stationed at their assigned posts. The fishermen aboard were lookouts ensuring the safety of the kingdom they dutifully served. My imagination was in full swing. The beautiful life around me was intoxicating. I walked and smiled, drinking in the emotions and festivities of a carefree day of Summer.
Darkness.
It took a minute for me to figure out exactly what happened. I had unintentionally overstepped my bounds…literally. The colours were gone. I was completely submerged under the water, desperately clinging to the last, precious breath in my lungs. The previously joyful sounds were muffled and distorted turning them into seemingly mocking tones; tones produced by those just above the surface of the water who, unlike me, were enjoying mouthfuls of rich, life-giving oxygen. I couldn’t swim, and for some reason, I wasn’t panicked despite my predicament. On the contrary, I had never felt such peace! I felt more alive than at any other point I could remember!
I started thinking about God and Heaven. I reflected on the last time I had seen my papaw in his work clothes, standing in his yard smiling. I was supposed to ride with him that morning, but he had inexplicably changed his mind before driving off to get into a wreck that eventually led to his death, ironically crashing into a bridge and plummeting into the raging waters below resulting in a deadly case of pneumonia. I thought about the opportunity of being able to once again feel his strong arms around me and hear him say, “Good job, Kojak!” (My nickname after the Telly Savalas character because of my being born with a head as bald as a cue ball!).
I relaxed my body and closed my eyes as I settled in to face my inevitable fate.
“So this is what it feels like right before you die.”
The thought brought with it no alarm or sadness, only feelings of peace, joy, and hope. I prepared myself for the moment that my body would involuntarily gasp for oxygen in a last ditch effort to feed starving muscles and brain cells. Just as I was getting ready to inhale, I felt a hand grab the back of my hair and yank me up out of the water. The colours returned, the sounds once again became playful banter, and more importantly, I inhaled the sweetest, most tantalizing gulp of air I would ever remember enjoying. My mom, having seen me floating, had quickly come to my rescue.
My life went on as everyone’s must, but I have never forgotten the peace that filled me that day. The oh so close smell of my papaw’s aftershave, and how rapidly I was willing to leave all of this behind in order to see God face-to-Face. I suppose that is why I have a slightly different take on death than most people. Being a pastor, I have seen the sadness and despair it brings. I have witnessed the way it forever changes those left behind. However, I have also seen the strength and unity it brings with it… if allowed. I think of the revival of previously made commitments to Daddy God and the lives I have seen rise from the ashes to accomplish the seemingly impossible.
One song states it succinctly I think, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end.”
At least, that is my thought. My opinion from a life lived in joy, triumph, severe pain, and tragedy. A life lived never, ever forgetting what it was like to be face down in the water.
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