The word “sacred” is linked with deity and is not to be tossed about frivolously, but I like to use it to describe the small room where Nate died. Tonight, sitting in that room in a quiet cottage, my computer is illuminated by the glow of the same green desk lamp that served as Nate’s night light while he slept in his hospital bed here. The clock, ringed in small beach stones, still ticks away the seconds of each day just as it timed-out the minutes of his life.

When Nate and I squeezed two houses worth of furniture into one smaller home last June, the functions of several rooms changed. This cozy little nook became our “library”. Nate was a reader with a capital “R” and particularly loved political history. Our book shelves in Chicago bowed beneath the weight of hundreds of selections, many read multiple times. Before we moved, I asked him to cull out his favorite 100 books. This was like asking a child in a candy shop to pick just one piece.

The books he saved are now shelved in this room, a window into his thoughts: THE PATH TO POWER, NIXON AND KISSENGER, THE OREGON TRAIL, T.R., BEHIND THE OVAL OFFICE, WHAT LINCOLN BELIEVED, NATASHA’S DANCE, AN UNFINISHED LIFE, OUR FIRST REVOLUTION, and of course LAST TRAIN TO MEMPHIS (Elvis). As he lay in his hospital bed, strength draining away, he was surrounded by his favorite people and his favorite books.

The morning after Nate died, Hospice sent a man over to collect their equipment. Once the big bed had been removed, the library begged to be put back as it had been, pre-cancer. It was a quick way to eliminate the cavernous hole left when Nate and his bed were both gone.

I enjoy blogging in this room, remembering all that went on during those 18 days when the hub of our home became Nate’s hospital bed. In this room, volumes of prayer were spoken out, acknowledging God’s minute-to-minute involvement in Nate’s life (and death). This is where family members communicated deep love and respect for a man they loved.

This is where Mary and I spent three consecutive nights watching out for death, not wanting Nate to leave without a loving send-off. This is where we all said our final goodbyes, and this is where Nate died. A bed in a library became his springboard to heaven.

The room itself isn’t really sacred with its walls desperate for fresh paint and its floor in need of carpeting. But what happened within this place was sacred indeed, because Divinity was powerfully active during those days. God was busy putting his flawless plans into action within the minds, souls and hearts of each individual, working one-on-one simultaneously and in detail, as only he can do.

Although our days and nights in the library with Nate were peppered with trouble and heartbreak, I saw and continue to see valuable fruit being produced as a result of them. The whole scenario was a God-allowed (possibly God-initiated) test for each of us, including Nate. Some of us will need to be tested again in similar ways as part of our life-training. Others passed their tests, gaining in maturity and godliness, and will be brought to new tests in order to make greater gains.

At first glance, this seems to be the manipulation of a cruel God. When we recognize, however, that his goal is to ready us for our “real” life in eternity, we can accept present-day testing as judicious. Life’s greatest gains seem to come only under heavy pressure.

Nate had a saying that could have been a life verse, had it been in the Bible: “Pressure produces.” During several periods of his life when he found himself in a pressure-cooker, he refused to fall apart, persevering through trials to the best of his ability. His last test was his most demanding, but we all agree he passed with flying colors. As a result, he received God’s permission to graduate from his somewhat sacred room to his supremely sacred new home.

“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. God blesses those who patiently endure testing and temptation. Afterward they will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.” (James 1:2-3,12)

Adult children joke about the parental cautions of their childhoods:

1. Stop crying, or I’ll give you something to cry about!
2. You’re going to poke your eye out with that thing!
3. Don’t run with the scissors in your hand!
4. Stop that before somebody gets hurt!
5. You don’t know how good you have it!

Our parents didn’t use those exact words, but their ideas were the same. Dad cautioned us far more than Mom, lecturing us frequently on all things dangerous. One life and death issue he harped on during our childhood was not climbing the mounds of ice along Lake Michigan’s winter shoreline.

“Even when its frozen, there’s moving water underneath, making all of it unstable.” He was correct, of course, but we all knew if the right circumstances came along, we’d be on those ice mounds in a flash.

This weekend the right circumstances came along. Mary and I took our dogs to the beach where they love to run up and down the snow-covered dunes side by side like a team of miniature horses. Climbing up over the dune ourselves, we gasped at our first glimpse of the lake.

There were three rows of ice-mountains running the length of the shoreline, stretching for miles in both directions. These consecutive hills rose eight to ten feet with icy valleys in between, a frozen roller coaster toward frigid water, each peak less reliable than the one before.

Mary and I agreed the whole scene was calling us to its beauty. With difficulty because of glare ice hidden beneath the snow, we scaled the first ridge, crawling on hands and knees to avoid falling.

Vowing to go no further as we repeated Dad’s ancient lecture to each other, the draw of the second ridge drowned out his cautions and coaxed us to come. We had to sit on the ice to scoot down into the valley and then climbed up the middle ridge, teetering on its narrow peak while we took in a 360 degree postcard-perfect view. Looking back at the distant dunes, however, we calculated we were well “out to sea” over the swirling water Dad had assured us was beneath the ice.

“Only the dogs will witness our drownings,” Mary said.

“They’ll probably drown along with us,” I added.

From what we could see, the frozen water beyond the third ridge was clear and blue, a wonder we yearned to get close to. We slid into the second valley and as the wind whipped sideways at our parkas, talked at length about inching up the last mound for one quick look over the top. But the weather had been above freezing that day, and Dad hadn’t told us whether top-ice or under-ice would melt first. In the end, his warnings terminated our battle with temptation. We didn’t climb the third peak but turned back toward solid ground, two old ladies having had two-thirds of an adventure.

It’s good to know when to stop. All of us have gotten into trouble pushing the limits on risky behavior, which forced us to pay the piper when it was over. Taking chances for a valid reason is one thing, but taking chances just for fun is not good.

Some people risk the one thing that matters most, life after death. They’re sure death ends everything, then find out it isn’t true. By then it’s too late to do anything about it.

A second risky possibility is to postpone thoughts of spiritual matters with a self-promise to think about it in old age, but then to die young. Both scenarios are tantamount to walking on thin ice.

As Mary and I turned toward the dune, we watched Jack and Sydney race ahead in tandem. Sydney ran across the frozen creek but suddenly dropped through the ice up to her chest, quickly climbing out with a surprised look on her face. Jack’s path across had stayed solid. We were still laughing when I got my own chilly surprise. Despite following Jack’s solid paw prints, I went through the ice up to my knee anyway. Brrr! It would have been better to follow someone heavier than I was.

“I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.” (Isaiah 46:9-10)

After writing last night’s blog about Nate’s crisis of faith, this morning I dug out my old prayer journal from those same dates in mid-January, 2005, to see what other details might surface about that turbulent time. In the process, right there in the basement, I was the recipient of a water-in-the-face moment from God.

One of my prayers written when Nate was away on his three day “retreat” leaped off the page at me. I’d been praying for a day when his doubts or anxieties would leave him, freeing him up to follow the Lord with abandon, “his heart, soul, mind and strength.”

I wrote, “Draw him powerfully to you, Lord. Make it all sensible to him. If there are any misunderstandings, apply this verse to them: ‘If any man be in Christ, he is a new creation; old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.’ (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Continuing, I prayed, “In an instant make all things new for Nate. Clear his head of his earthly woes. Bring him to look at you full-face and to see who you really are. Please release him from the bondage of earthly pressures, 100%.”

My water-in-the-face was realizing how specifically God has answered every request:

• Nate is a new creation.
• Old things have passed away.
• All things have become new
• It all happened in one instant.
• His head has been cleared of earthly woes.
• He is looking at Jesus full-face.
• He sees Jesus Christ for who he really is.
• He’s been released from earthly pressures 100%.

DONE!

I was especially impacted today when I realized I’d asked for Nate to see Jesus full-face. In my prayer I meant for this to happen figuratively, which is the only way it can happen here on earth. Amazingly, God answered that prayer beyond my expectation by doing it literally. And it all happened in an instant on November 3, 2009. No more looking through a glass darkly. Everything is clear.

I wrote out ten pages of prayer over Nate on that weekend he was away, longing to see him soar in what was an increasingly cluttered relationship with the Lord. The cares of this world can clog a person’s spiritual outlook (Mark 4:19), and Nate’s many pressures seemed to be doing that. Toward the end of those prayer pages I wrote, “If things have to get worse before they get better… please show yourself, Lord, in that process.”

Things certainly worsened in terms of back pain and cancer but also with increased strain in work related issues. But God showed us repeatedly he was in the process every step of the way. Today, though, Nate is a “new creation” with a clear, uncluttered perspective. If we could have 30 seconds with him, he’d grin ear-to-ear with literally not a care in that world and say, “It was all worth it!”

So here the rest of us are, human beings doing the best we can to pace through life with our feet on the earth and our eyes on Jesus (figuratively), slogging through some tough stuff but trying not to get weighed down by the worries of this world. We wonder what’s just around the bend but recognize that at the end of all our tomorrows, today’s concerns will be swept away like so much debris on a floor. In their place will be a life so happy-go-lucky, we’ll all join with Nate in saying, “It was all worth it!” But wouldn’t it be spectacular if we could actually say that … today?

“Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with… the anxieties of life.” (Luke 21:34a)