One night last weekend a second amaryllis bud was wending its way heavenward by my dark bedroom window as our family shared in the waiting and the sorrow as a former missionary coworker and acquaintance of long time, Stephen Gibson, was reaching the end of his road. I remembered once again when I was a very little girl visiting the church in Franklin, PA, where his parents pastored. Stephen must have been a two-year-old at the time. It was an unforgettable missionary service in which Leroy and Myrtle Adams from Ethiopia spoke--with Leroy playing three instruments at once--a trumpet with one hand, an accordion with the other, and the pedals of the pipe organ with his feet!
I was in awe!
It was unfortunate that I also had to be sick and threw up into my dad's baseball cap he happened to have along at that church.
Another time, the Gibson family came to visit us, and Stephen's older sister Karen, about the age of myself, came up to us girls' bedroom with us to play. I believe we played with each other's hair, probably because we girls were at the age where Mom was teaching us to braid each other's hair and even our own, and I noticed that Karen was allowed to wear bobble ponytailers.
My sister and I did not.
Those bobbles were so brightly colorful and cute.
I think Karen and perhaps my sister Dorcas made my hair into pony tails or braids with her bobbles, and when my mom came up to check on us girls, I felt very guilty. I had already picked up in my little mind that we were only allowed plain rubber bands.
No bobbles.
Because things like bobbles, jewelry, lace, and even men's ties were considered unnecessary adornment.
To this day, my conscience is guided by my upbringing, although I have felt free to allow myself some of what was considered "unnecessary adornment" in my growing up years, and yet some of that, such as the not wearing of jewelry, I have maintained as a personal conviction. It is an area of my life that I have felt I must lay at the foot of the cross.
I would love to wear a pretty wedding ring, or a simple necklace, or perhaps other things.
But the cross of Jesus lies across those things for me personally.
And I submit to that.
I came into this world with nothing, and if a pretty ring that I deeply desire goes counter to what God whispers that he wants of me personally gets in the way, it must stay in the jewelry counter at Walmart with all the gold, silver, diamonds, and other bobbles.
The cross of Christ has a higher value to me.
Years later, Stephen Gibson and his wife and several children ended up in Ukraine on the same Bible College campus where we Lucases were. They lived in a big house that had been vacated by another missionary couple that had to leave the field due to the wife nearly losing her life to a heart attack. We could watch each others' coming and going, and when we Lucases moved back to America, the Gibson family purchased some of our belongings. Stephen was involved with Kiev Wesley Bible College for several years, as well as helping young people in western Ukraine for many years.
That is how we've known him in the past, but more recently, he had asked my nephew Ezra for help with the Shepherds Global Curriculums he was writing and distributing in other countries. Ezra has been editing and helping in other ways now for years.
Then suddenly, only two months ago, Stephen was diagnosed with inoperable stage 4 pancreatic cancer.
He refused to let it freeze his activities, continuing to travel and hold services.
He kept going until just a couple weeks before this week.
Sunday morning I woke early and heard my phone ding that a text had come in.
I figured it was a friend, Susan, who texts me an encouraging verse or song each Sunday morning.
Last week it was the very verse that I had wakened with, except that I could only remember the last part of the verse. I wracked my chemo brain but could not think what the first words were.
And then her text had the whole verse--Psalm 91:1.
That was not coincidental in my opinion.
This time it was the photo of an old song--another beloved song of mine. And again, I thought it surely was not coincidental. When I read the news of Stephen's passing later on Facebook, I knew my heart had been prepared for this.
"Children of the heavenly Father
Safely in His bosom gather,
Nestling bird nor star in heaven
Such a refuge e'er was given.
"Neither life nor death shall ever
From the Lord His children sever,
Unto them His grace he showeth,
And their sorrows all He knoweth.
"Though He giveth or He taketh,
God His children ne'er forsaketh.
His the loving purpose solely
To preserve them pure and holy."
It was a double sorrow to read that Stephen's brother James, about the same age, had died as well within hours of Stephen. His had been a years long battle with brain cancer, but for some reason, God took both brothers within a few hours of each other.
The father, it comes at no surprise, ended up in the hospital with stroke symptoms--the same long ago pastor who had hosted the missionary service my family attended.
This was heavy news last weekend, and we joined the host of friends praying for this family and lifting them to the heavenly Father.
For "neither life nor death shall ever
From the Lord His children sever!"
"Who will fill this man's shoes?" I wondered.
And then I thought of Ezra. Only the week before, Ezra had journeyed to Africa with a one-way ticket.
I thought of my nephew David in Mexico right now learning the language.
My brother Fain and his wife are helping in Mexico.
My own children are working here with us, Danny speaking "words of wisdom" last night in church.
But Stephen's shoes were an awfully big size.
Lord, send more young people to fill those shoes.
It has always been my habit, when it appears that God is not going to heal a sufferer here on earth, to pray for a merciful shortening of the days of suffering and for God to take them Home as quickly and gently as possible.
It was a grace to me when I saw how quickly God took Nathan Bryant once his days were ended, and it was the same for Stephen. As a cancer patient myself, I humbly and gratefully thank God when one's suffering comes to an end.
And so although we sorrowed with the family, we thanked God that these brothers were no longer in pain.
And how unusually poignant to know that two brothers within mere hours of each other
entered the gates of heaven where they will be forever happy and carefree like the playful little brothers they must have been after that missionary service 54 years past.
On this side, there are tears.
On that side, two brothers are laying their treasures at Jesus' feet--
and there is no bobble to compare!
