desperation

I have a rather brilliant piano student in about 6th grade or so. I once played the piano at her grandfather's birthday party, and it seems that over the years, I have met her whole family, grandparents, mother, father, sister, aunt, etc., many times. More than one usually meets one's students' families.

This child has an Aunt, Emily, who has also taken lessons from me in the past. Off and on, since adults are usually so busy. Emily used to have brain cancer years ago. It recently came back. She has tried everything, many times, and there does not seem to be too much hope left for a cure. Her doctor says that when her current treatment ceases to be effective, she will have a year, more or less.

This lovely, kind, normal family seemingly has no idea of God. Maybe they believe he's around somewhere, I'm not sure, but in the e-mail updates from Emily's mother, there seems to be nothing but a grasping at whatever medical hope still remains, and an acknowledgment that they are all sad and depressed and dreading the end, but doing all they can to keep happy and enjoy life now.

These e-mails have put to rest the doubts that I had about assuming that they have no idea that God is there, in charge, and that He cares. If they had any hope in the Lord, it would have come through. So I am left to suddenly, shakily, whether I want to or not, realize that there is a reason that I know them. An inescapable reason. The same reason I know anybody who doesn't know Jesus. There really are no accidental meetings. I pray for all my students, that they will know the Lord someday. I tell them if I can who He is and what He has done for me. I pray for Emily, for her healing, of course, but what would a few more years on earth be if eternity were not addressed? Mostly I pray that the Lord would prepare her heart for whatever He might say to her, through me, or any other Christian who might be a part of her life.

I am a little nervous to know that I absolutely have to go and tell Emily the Truth, but I am so glad that I can. I am so glad that I know Him, that He died for us and covers us with His righteousness, and that He will be there when we die, just as He is here now. I cannot think of the words I'll say, or how one brings up the afterlife to a person who is most likely dying and trying not to think about it. But the Lord will give me words when the time comes, I know. It's a desperate situation. I am not especially close to Emily. I was her piano teacher for a couple of years. I have never had a life-threatening illness, so who am I to speak to her about it? I don't know about all the pieces to the puzzle of this girl's life. But I have the one that matters, and I know that sometime soon, I have to tell her.

I think about visiting her, and hate the thought of bringing up the topic of death, but it's really about LIFE. Eternal life, eternal beautiful trees, eternal worship, eternal music and singing. Perhaps not eternal sunsets, I suppose, since there will be neither sun nor moon there, (Revelation 21?) but I'm sure the sky will be lovely colors anyway. I want her to know what I know. Who I know. I have never lived a day in which I thought that death would be the end. I cannot imagine how sad I would be if I thought that, every time I enjoy or love something or someone, to think it will all be over one day! I have never seen a sunset or heard a symphony, or taken a breath with the sadness that must come with not knowing that you will spend eternity alive, and with the source of beauty, and music, and truth, and life. Life. This is not about death at all.

But if you think of it, pray. That Emily will have an open heart and be able to hear the Word of God. That I will be bold, and that the Lord will give me the words to say. I know He will, because He knows that I am absolutely counting on Him for that part, because every time I go through what I might say in my head, I cannot even bring it up properly or coherently. Pray against the enemy, who hates this. And pray that the Lord will open her eyes. I pray these things so desperately. I don't know why, since He knows what I will ask before I ask it, but I do.