Wednesday, March 07, 2007

A still raw nerve - Pastor's John Piper's father passed away...

For those of you who hadn't heard, Pastor John Piper's father passed away yesterday. Below is his personal journal entry as posted at Desiring God. Pastor Piper was able to leave Bethlehem Baptist to be with his father for his last few days.
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Hello, My Father Just Died


By John Piper March 7, 2007


The following is John Piper’s journal entry narrating his father’s death on Tuesday, March 6, 2007.

The funeral is scheduled for Friday, March 9, 2007, at 2 p.m. at White Oak Baptist Church in Greenville, S. C. Visitation is 7:00-8:30 p.m. Thursday evening, March 8, 2007, at Mackey Mortuary on Century Drive in Greenville. All are welcomed.

John Piper will not be preaching this weekend at Bethlehem Baptist Church.

Tuesday, March 6, 2007. 2 a.m.

The big hospital clock in room 4326 of Greenville Memorial Hospital said, with both hands straight up, midnight. Daddy had just taken his last breath. My watch said 12:01, March 6, 2007.

I had slept a little since his last morphine shot at ten. One ear sleeping, one on the breathing. At 11:45, I awoke. The breaths were coming more frequently and were very shallow. I will not sleep again, I thought. For ten minutes, I prayed aloud into his left ear with Bible texts and pleadings to Jesus to come and take him. I had made this case before, and this time felt an unusual sense of partnership with Daddy as I pressed on the Lord to relieve this warrior of his burden.

I finished and lay down. Good. Thank you, Lord. It will not be long. And, grace upon grace, hundreds of prayers are being answered: He is not choking. The gurgling that threatened to spill over and drown him in the afternoon had sunk deep, and now there was simple clear air, shorter and shorter. I listened from where I lay next to him on a foldout chair.

That’s it. I rose and waited. Will he breathe again? Nothing. Fifteen or twenty seconds, and then a gasp. I was told to expect these false endings. But it was not false. The gasp was the first of two. But no more breaths. I waited, watching. No facial expressions. His face had frozen in place hours before. One more jerk. That was all. Perhaps an eyebrow twitch a moment later. Nothing more.

I stroked his forehead and sang,

My gracious Master and My God
Assist me to proclaim
To spread through all the earth abroad
The honors of thy name.

Daddy, how many thousands awaited you because of your proclamation of the great gospel. You were faithful. You kept the faith, finished the race, fought the fight. “Make friends for yourselves with unrighteous mammon that they might receive you into eternal habitations.”

I watched, wondering if there could be other reflexes. I combed his hair. He always wore a tie. The indignities of death are many, but we tried to minimize them. Keep the covers straight. Pull the gown up around his neck so it looks like a sharp turtleneck. Tuck the gappy shoulder slits down behind so they don’t show. Use a wet washcloth to keep the secretions from crusting in the eyelashes. And by all means, keep his hair combed. So now I straightened his bedding and combed his hair and wiped his eyes and put the mouth moisturizer on his lips and tried to close his mouth. His mouth would not stay closed. It had been set in that position from hours and hours of strained breathing. But he was neat. A strong, dignified face.

I called my sister Beverly first, then Noël. Tearfully we gave thanks.

(For the remainder of this account visit Desiring God here)

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The graciousness with which this was written is astounding. I honestly have no idea how Dr. Piper was able to pen this with the wound still so fresh.


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1 comment:

Dawg said...

Praise God he knew where his father was going!

It's a little odd reading this today as this day is the 17th anniversary of my fathers death (March 7th, 1990).

My mother said that they (My mother and father) were baptised together many years ago. I can honestly say that I saw no Christian fruit from the man. He was a good father, but I'm afraid he truly did not know the Lord and have Christ as his Savior.

My mother on the other hand is a godly woman who strives to live the Christian life and I praise God for her. My brother is still lost and I pray for him daily. I witness to him everytime we talk but he sees me as a brainwashed member of a cult.

Thanks for posting this. I pray my sons are at my bedside in the same manner one day. They will have the comfort of knowing where their daddy went.