In Part 1, I mentioned Job and his three friends who came to sit with him during his time of intense suffering and grief. For seven days and nights, they ministered to him with their presence. But soon, they began to offer Job their opinions on why he was experiencing these tragedies. I imagine that their hearts were in the right place; they loved their friend and wanted to help end his troubles. They proposed many reasons for why God was allowing this to happen to Job, which frustrated Job and prompted him to eventually say, “You are worthless physicians, all of you! If only you would be altogether silent! For you, that would be wisdom.” (Job 13:4b-5)
Don’t we often do the same? In our compassion for those around us, we rush to “fix” the situation, to make their problems go away and to end their suffering. For my friends in the nursing home, things are likely never going to get better or be “fixed.” I cannot offer them any solutions or advice that’s going to result in what most of them want so desperately: to be home with their loved ones, enjoying better health and happier days. For many of them, their final days will be just like those of the woman with whom I was sitting.
In the end, Job’s friends only added to his misery. Their advice contained falsehoods and inaccuracies; God Himself rebuked them for their words. (Job 42:7) In the nursing home, it would be cruel for me to offer the residents false hope. It would be unkind to suggest that things will get better. This is why a ministry of presence is so crucial; it’s also very liberating. I don’t need to worry so much about finding the right words to say. I just need to show up! Job’s friends didn’t arrive and try to make him feel better by way of distraction. They didn’t put on fake smiles or bring gifts or throw him a party. They didn’t say things like, “Cheer up! Everything is going to be ok.” They identified with him in his pain. They wept. They tore their robes. They sprinkled dust on their heads. In so doing, they were joining with him in his affliction and acknowledging that it was real. Physical pain, poverty, loneliness, and sadness are all very real for people who live in a care home. It does no good for us to pretend otherwise. And the only salve for that is relationship–relationship with God and with others.
Sitting in silence allows our minds to be free, to wander and to ponder things we probably wouldn’t otherwise. “God, why does she linger?” I asked several times while sitting in silence and watching her frail body in a seeming fight within itself to go on. In fact, I’ve asked that question many times when walking the halls of the nursing home. It’s not uncommon to pass by rooms and see residents who are just as thin and pitiful as the dying woman. Often parts of them are exposed as they shift in the bed and the sheet falls away; they’re totally unaware. There are many residents who lay in nothing but a hospital gown and adult diaper all day and night. For some it is a choice, but for others, it’s because they don’t have anything else to put on. I keep going back to the contrast between the nursing home and a nursery. My babies always had a plethora of cute, snuggly little pajamas. In the summer they had pajamas with colorful sailboats or beach balls, and at Christmas they had pajamas adorned with Santa or stockings or happy little elves. At the end of life, in the nursing home, someone puts a monochromatic hospital gown on you that looks like everyone else’s and is certain to hang open and reveal your body at some point. More loss of dignity.
“God, why are they still here?” In a society that disposes of unborn children due to inconvenience, I fear we’ll soon be disposing of our unproductive, unwanted and expensive-to-care for elders. If God numbers all our days, and is sovereign over life and death, (which, of course, He is) why are there so many infirm, debilitated seniors languishing for months and even years, completely unable to interact with the world around them? I don’t have any real answers for those questions. There are some things we will never understand this side of heaven. God never gave Job an explanation for what he experienced, but He did use the situation to reveal more of Himself to Job.
Similarly, while I have no idea why that precious woman was still breathing or why, for so many nursing home residents, death seems to tarry, I was reminded of something I read not too long about finding purpose in this kind of suffering. When we extend a ministry of presence, when we care for those who cannot reciprocate, we are learning how to love without expecting anything in return. God uses those situations to chip away at our selfishness, our self-centeredness, and our pre-occupation with productivity and busyness.
In the first weeks after my son was born (MANY years ago), I remember one particular afternoon when I felt completely unproductive. The house was a mess and dinner wasn’t ready. I had nothing to show for the day. The baby had been incredibly fussy all day, so I spent most of the day just holding him and soothing him. My mom called to check on me and I said to her, “I have been so unproductive today. I haven’t gotten anything done!” To which my very wise mother responded, “Of course you have. You held your baby.” Mom was reminding me that my presence was more important than getting everything checked off my to-do list.
I think that even in ministry, we tend toward judging our “success” with measurable outcomes. We want to have something to show for our efforts. Our church raised thousands of dollars for an overseas orphanage, provided food and shelter for the community after a natural disaster, grew in attendance by 50%, baptized 100 new believers. (I don’t mean my church- this is hypothetical.) There’s no real way to measure the “success” of a ministry of presence. Yet when I left the nursing home that day, I felt like that was the most important thing I’d done all week.
I would suggest to you that there are important lessons God wants to teach you that can only be found within the walls of a nursing home. A ministry of presence there becomes God’s way of revealing His presence, both to you and to all those you serve. There are things we learn about God that can only be learned in the face of suffering, imminent death, and service without (earthly) reward.
I have a friend who is an end-of-life doula. Hers is a ministry of presence for those who are nearing death and for their loved ones. I’ve often wondered how she does it. How does she walk with people through the valley of the shadow of death and not feel crushed by the sorrow of it all? I think I’m beginning to understand. In a mysterious and beautiful way, God teaches us about life–about life in Him– when we enter that valley with others and He meets us there. Suddenly it becomes a situation that no longer seems too sad or too difficult to endure. It becomes a place where God gives us peace and rest in Him.
So many people try to avoid the valley of the shadow of death. We don’t want to think about our death, or our parents’ death. We avoid having hard conversations about end of life plans, and as a result, many are woefully unprepared. Another consequence is that we avoid places like nursing homes. We feel sorry for the people behind those doors, but we don’t really want to think about them. And that’s convenient because they are literally out of sight and out of mind, locked away and forgotten. We don’t want to face the reality of what’s inside because it makes us comfortable. If you research the reasons why over 60% of nursing home residents never receive a visitor, you’ll find that for those who have living relatives, the relatives say it makes them too sad to visit. Friends, there are over 4 million people who call Kentucky home. Only 22,000 of them live in a nursing home. And yet this tiny percentage of the population never has someone come to visit them? God, forgive us.
Let me call you to a ministry of presence, in all areas of life but also inside a care home. Cast off your fear of what you’ll encounter. Put on God’s love, selflessness, and compassion, and step into a nursing home. He will meet you in the dining room with residents who never share a meal with anyone from the outside. He will meet you in the room of a resident who just wants someone to listen. He will meet you in the activities room with a group of residents who wants to pray and sing hymns (and they don’t care if you sing off key). He will meet you in the room with a resident who wants to know if you have time for a game of Uno. He will meet you beside the bed of a dying resident, in a room that feels hopeless and dark. He will meet you and fill you and use you to minister to His precious children who are nearing the end of their days.
If you’d like to learn more about nursing home ministry, please visit ffky.org.
