"Gettin There" "How a Man Finds His way on the Trail of Life"

By: Steve Farrar; Published by: Multnomah 2001

Chapter 3: A Nice Piece of Work; Sub Chapter: Trail's End

It was hot in Texas last Monday. Spring was over, and the mercury was climbing its way to ninety-five degrees. I was waiting outside a repair shop while the mechanic serviced my car's air conditioner.

I decided to give Mary a quick call. As soon as she answered the phone I knew something was wrong.

"Steve, I just got off the phone with your mom. Steve…your brother Mike died about an hour ago. He had a heart attack just after he got to his office this morning."

A wave of disbielief swept over me as I stood outside that service station in the Texas heat. I could not process what I was hearing. Mike? Dead? My brother? He can't be dead. There's no way Mike is dead. Not Mike. This can't be true. His daughter, Laura, is graduating from high school next week. She needs Mike to be there. This can't be real.

But it was real.

My brother, Mike, had died at the age of forty-eight.

That was six days ago. The funeral was the day before yesterday. My son, John, graduated from high school last night. And here I am, early on a Saturday morning, trying to sort it all out.

When a man in otherwise good health dies of a heart attack at forty-eight, people make all kinds of statements. You hear things like: "His life was cut short" or " There's no rhyme or reason to this."

Now I understand the motive and sentiment behind these words. People are looking for ways to offer some empathy and comfort, and it's tough to know what to say sometimes. The trouble is that both of these statements are wrong.

Mike's life wasn't cut short. He had simply come to the end of the days God had ordained for him. Now from a human standpoint, there were some medical issues that contributed to Mike's seath. But those medical issues did not frustrat the plan of God.

And there certainly was a rhyme and a reason to Mike's death. Yes, it is emotionaly shocking that Mike's gone, and we're still in the process of adjusting to the fact that he'' no longer with us. But that doesn'' mean his death doesn'' make sense.

We've talked about the word workmanship in Ephsians 2:10. The Greek word translated workmanship is poiema. It is the root word for our English word, poem. When a poet writes a poem, that poem is his workmanship. God is the Poet who authors the verses of our lives. He determines the content of the verse and the number of versus. And there's one more thing: He makes sure that all the verses rhyme.

We were shocked by Mike's sudden death. But down deep in our hearts we're confident that there is a rhyme and reason to God's timing in Mike's life. It wasn't our timing, but it was God's. Mike was His workmanship, and in my opinion, one of God's most outstanding poems.

Mike was quite a piece of work-one that God had cut out to walk a predetermined trail of good works. So were Moses, Joseph, Esther, and Mordecai.

And so are you. You're right in there with them

From BillyGrits:

If you are struggling with this subject I hope you found this piece insightful. Do you need further assistance in this area contact me and I will be happy to discuss more with you.