An elderly friend is nearing the end of life—he has lived long and well, but his body is slowly shutting down. His mind is still razor sharp and he is able to joke and converse easily, but the oxygen tank that he has carried with him everywhere for the last four years is a constant reminder that he is on borrowed time.

His body is shutting down.

It has been 3 months in hospital now—lying on his back and unable to do much more than hobble to the toilet on a good day — while bad days he is confined to bed and feeling miserable.

We have gone to see him, knowing that he has chosen to ‘call it’ later this week. He elected for the voluntary assisted dying (VAD) path a few weeks ago. but changed his mind at the last minute—this time he says he is certain. It’s a big call, and one that is contested by so many in the theological world I inhabit. I can see his reasons for checking out and I imagine I may even do the same in his situation.

The hospital can keep him alive indefinitely, but for what purpose? If daily hospital care was removed he would die very quickly. Perhaps nature ought to be allowed to take its course—or in this case allowed to move more quickly to ease his suffering. 

When does intervention actually become interfering?

When does preserving life become harmful to the person it is seeking to serve?

These are questions we must grapple with and I sense the issue is less black and white and more a shade of grey. Rather then simple dismissing VAD as anti-Christian we have to consider how we are now able to manipulate the key elements that give life so as to extend a person’s days well beyond what would have been possible in days gone by. When my brother had his heart attack he was ‘kept alive’ ie. his heart was pumping blood and he was breathing – artificially for 7 days. He was never ‘coming back’, but it was seven days of being sustained by machines before the end was acknowledged. Our friend can see the finish line, but needs a mercy rule to be enacted to help end his pain now rather than later.

We enter his room and he is sleeping. Our presence seems to wake him and he recognises us. His handshake is still vicelike—firmer than many a younger man. It’s hard to believe he is at this point. I am not naturally at ease in these spaces, although continued exposure seems to have helped me be present with minimal awkwardness. 

Going with Danelle makes it easier. She reads the room well and knows the tone to take—the conversation that is appropriate. We discuss family and friends, before coming to the point of our visit—the stark reality that we won’t meet again in this life.

This is goodbye. 

Our friend talks of death matter of factly. He is not afraid and sees that he has simply come to the end of the road. Nine decades of life has slowly wound down. It’s not that he gets to ‘go out on his terms’, but rather that he is able to end the daily misery. In early 21st C Australia we have mastered the art of eking every last drop of life out of people—drops that maybe don’t need to be eked out.

I know that theoretically I am supposed to be against interfering with the work of God to ‘give life and take it away’, (does he actually take it away?… I’m not so sure…) but when those words were written could anyone envisage the life extending measures we have today?

Our friend is a person of faith—a different shape to ours—but he holds to the hope that when he dies he will be with a God who loves him and welcomes him. I can’t help but wonder if he has met Jesus personally, or if his life of church attendance and community service is his hope. Somehow this isn’t the time to ask those questions—to crunch out our perceived theological differences. 

Is he ‘saved’?

I have grown up with and lived around communities that have quite specific criteria for salvation. It’s true that most of it is drawn from scripture and I would likely affirm all that is spoken of. But when I find myself face to face with someone who wouldn’t have grown up around sinners’ prayers and phrases like surrendering all to Jesus, I can’t help but feel that the faith they do have will be enough—a mustard seed?… Surely the understanding that formed them and shaped them will see them welcomed by a God who is far more gracious than many theological experts seem to be.

He speaks of seeing his wife again, of his longing for his family to find their way to church and faith. We tell him if he sees Sam to give him a hug from us as well as a smack around the head. There is laughter and tears, a recognition of the reality he is facing—both wonderful and devastating.

As the time comes to leave I ask him if he’d like us to pray for him. He says ‘oh yes please’ and reaches out to take each of our hands. As my eyes well with tears, I nudge Danelle and tell her to take this one. He holds my hand tight and she prays for all the things we have discussed—and for peace in his heart as he makes the final crossing.

Then its time to leave and we are reminded again of the privilege it is to sit with someone at the end and bless them and offer them hope.

(I wrote this around a month ago and our friend went thru with the VAD that week)

I spent the morning putting a diesel heater into a client’s camper van – a tight operation with limited space inside to work with, but this was around my 300th install so I’m fairly good at it now.

With it all done neatly, I was almost finished when I went to replace a panel and the phillips head bit in my drill scratched the black glossy surface of his Thetford fridge – it left a small scratch – probably something you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t look closely – but when you did look closely it was about 4cms long and in the right light was visible.

Bugger…

And then begins the internal wrestle… Do I tell him?… or do I say nothing and hope he discovers it a few months from now and figures he must have done it himself?

And in all of the internal wrestle I know what’s right – and I know what’s dodgy. But even this far down the life of business and faith I still find myself tempted to hide it and say nothing.

What’s with that?!

One part of my brain is saying ‘it’s no big deal – just leave it…’ while another part of my brain says ‘Own it. Suck it up and fix it up.’

Isn’t this where some of the rubber hits the road for those of us who want to do business and life with integrity? ‘Can I get away with it?‘ shouldn’t be a question we are asking ourselves – but here I am…

I have written before about how I approach business. I try to do my job as if I were Jesus, and to treat my client as if he were Jesus. It means always doing what is good and right. Would Jesus fail to report the scratch? Would Jesus leave someone else with the problem?

The answer is glaringly simple, so why the wrestle? Why does my brain still tick with schemes for avoiding responsibility?

When we talk about the idea of sin – or a sinful nature – it can all feel very heavy, but this is simply what is happening. As a Christian I am being transformed into the likeness of Jesus on an ongoing basis – but that only continues to happen while I live in his way – while I submit my darker side to his rule. The ongoing nature of transformation means that I am not there yet – that I will not ‘arrive’ in this lifetime. As a result I am still going to feel the effects of a self that is focused on gaining my own advantage first – of looking out for number 1.

There is a voice in my head saying ‘you can get away with this – just keep his attention on the heater and not on the fridge…’ That voice isn’t Jesus. There is another voice that says, ‘treat people as you would like to be treated,’ and yeah… of course that sounds more like him.

So yes – I told him… You’d hope that, but the point of this post isn’t to say ‘hey look at my virtuous choice’, but rather to acknowledge the wrestles we all face in our workplaces – the challenges to our integrity that will come in various forms – and then to call us to the tougher choice, because it simply is the right thing to do.

A long time ago I came across a Proverb (22:1) that says, ‘A good reputation is preferable to riches, and the approval of others is better than precious silver or gold.’ On days like these I revisit these words, along with Jesus simple call to love your neighbour as yourself.’

There’s no rocket science here. It’s all very simple – yet it’s also very confronting because I am ‘not there yet’… and I’ve been on the road of faith a very long time.

I guess I will lose a few hundred dollars on today’s job because of that mistake – and that’s annoying – but I will sleep better at night knowing I have made the right choice and been consistent in my thinking and practice. And next time it happens (because it will…) the ‘wrestle’ will hopefully be easier as the habit of ‘doing what’s right’ begins to come more naturally and easily.

So if you find yourself at work sometimes wondering, ‘can I get away with this? Can I pretend it wasn’t me?‘ just know you’re not alone. The lure of a self serving solution will always be there. But we also have the capacity to choose.

Take a deep breath and make the right choice.

We sometimes talk about ‘old man strength’, the kind of toughness and resilience that can hold you strong in situations where it would be easy to quit – because you have been here before and you can ‘tough it out’. But I sense there is also ‘old man knowledge’ that can shape and form your identity.

I did a short interview with my friend John Finkelde this week, for his YouTube channel, talking about some of what I wrote in Hi-Vis Faith and my other book, The Future is Bivocational. My ‘prep’ was a gym session where I read the questions and formed some gut level responses.

The final question was this one:

You’ve experienced massive loss in the last few years your son Sam, your brother, your parents. How has that grief reshaped the way you think about work and what really matters?

I pondered that for a bit, wondering what I could offer here, and then realised that the reason I was struggling to form an answer was because it hadn’t ‘reshaped the way I think about work and what really matters.’ In fact what it did was showed me that the stuff I am betting my life on is trustworthy. I didn’t feel like I needed any massive shift because we try to live in light of who Jesus is and what he calls us to. So when tragedy struck we were devastated but not disillusioned.

On Thursday night this week we watched Unsung Hero, a pretty simple story about an Aussie Christian family who lose everything in a bad deal and make their way to USA to try and start over. I’m not usually a fan of ‘Christian movies’ because they often just ooze cheese, but this one was a good story and very ‘easy watching’ when you are tired – unlike a Bourne identity spy thriller. On my way to a job the next day, I was listening to a podcast with Helen Smallbone, the ‘mum’ of the family (the ‘unsung hero’) where she was asked if her faith was rocked by the total financial wipeout. She paused for a moment then said ‘No – our faith wasn’t rocked – our faith and trust in God was what got us thru.‘ She sounded solid and strong – not trying to hard to convince anyone – just a knowledge that this is how it is.

I smiled as I heard that. Her words rang true. When you have as much experience of God’s faithfulness as we have had over our lives then your response to tragedy, disaster or pain isn’t immediate questioning or doubt. It’s taking hope and finding strength where you don’t have strength. I don’t mean that to sound easy, but in one sense it is. If our practice is to reflexively turn to God in every moment of life – in gratitude, in seeking direction or in suffering then this is what we will do.

So if you’re reading this and you’re 21 years old and thinking ‘good for you old man’, then I would want to say that the place we find ourselves today is the result of years and years of practice – decades of ‘focusing Godwards’ in whatever situation we find ourselves. We have had so much to give thanks for over the years – it has been a very good life so far. Yes, we have had tragedy as well and it has marked us, but it hasn’t shattered us.

So if you’re wondering what the key is to a rugged, resilient faith is then my suggestion is that the key is found in regularly turning to God in the many different moments in life. Sometimes that turning may be in gratitude and awe, sometimes in anger and pain – but in all of it acknowledging that a good and trustworthy father is who God is.