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“GOD’S PROMISE EASES FEAR OF DEATH, DYING”
Glen Moyer
Fourth Prize - $3,000

Glen Moyer writes a weekly column called The Adventures of Clothman. He has degrees in Religion from Whitworth College and Asbury Seminary. Mr. Moyer has been a pastor in Missoula, MT for 17 years where he lives with his wife, Rhonda, and two children, Karrie and Kyle. He has published over 450 columns in newspapers and magazines.

Dad wasn’t afraid of anything physical. From combat in the Philippines during World War II, to limbing 150-foot sparing poles in the Alaskan rain forests, he never backed down from a challenge.

I remember when the counterweight on our lumber mill’s forklift broke off. Dad, who weighed only 165 pounds, single-handedly lifted the round, 300-pound weight 5 feet off the ground and back into place.

My older brother tells of the day when he saw Dad confront a hired logger for drinking during a lunch break and endangering those around him. Buck Daniels, a bulldozer-sized, barroom brawler didn’t appreciate Dad’s scolding and came after him. Buck threw one punch at Dad. Dad threw one punch at Buck. A minute later Buck was still trying to figure out why he was lying flat on his back among the pine needles – fired.

But for all his physical exploits, Dad had one paralyzing dread – a terrible fear of death. Note, I said death, not dying. Dying is a physical event that never scared him, even when he was dying.

One of his terminal cancer tumors began constricting his throat. Initially, it became increasingly difficult to swallow food. I remember watching him nibble for an hour on a dry, darkly toasted piece of white bread and still have half of it left. Then one day, life with food ended.

Without food, Dad knew there would be no turning away, no distractions, no hiding from his greatest fear. This was it. It must have been his impending unbreakable appointment with death that caused Dad to finally talk to me about his greatest fear.

“Of course I believe in God,” Dad said. “I always have.” For those keeping score with church attendance records, this never would have been obvious.

“Then why are you so afraid to die and be with God?” I said.

“Because I’ve done so damn many stupid things that I don’t think God will want to have me around. Sure, I know about Jesus dying for my sins and all, but I also know the person I am and the failure I’ve been. I wish I would have done better down here, but I didn’t. I just don’t think he’ll take me.”

No wonder Dad was scared. I would be, too. Perhaps you are.

“Dad,” I replied, hating to bring this up, “remember when I got busted by Sheriff Hamilton for drinking in high school for the second time? Why did you let me come back into your house?”

“Because you are my son.”

“Well, you’re God’s son. If you could forgive me and let me into your house, how much more will God forgive you and let you into His house?”

I then read John 14:1-3 where Jesus addressed this very issue. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

Dad had heard that passage before, but that day it was like it was the first time. The light came on. Suddenly, he understood God’s love and forgiveness. I kid you not, an incredible, visible peace came over him like a bright ray of warm sunshine. It was awesome. I only regretted that Dad couldn’t have understood this years before and avoided the torment and fear death had held over him.

Over the next two months, Dad’s ability to swallow fluids ebbed away like the pounds on his once chiseled frame. Tiny swallows turned into tiny sips which turned into holding water in his mouth, hoping some might somehow trickle down his throat. Then one day, life with fluids ended.

For an incredible 16 more days Dad lived, dying. Never complaining. Never fearing. In fact, those two and a half months when Dad literally starved to death were far and away the best days of his life. And when he met death, and God, face to face on that March 12 morning, he was very much at peace – and he still is.

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