When you're casually dying

There's a mark on the back of my right calf that won't quite fade--- a satiny, crooked-edged indent in the flesh. It's the mark of nasty little teeth, of a stray dog that marked me as its enemy in the streets of Chongqing on Easter Sunday. 

I was walking the hilly, stair-studded streets of the Mountain City, trying to retrace the steps that had brought me serendipitously upon a church last year. Two medium-sized dogs, unassuming and unremarkable, were stationed to the right of the sidewalk path as I passed by. Unleashed animals are common enough in the city, and I paid them no attention. But with no warning, one of the dogs charged at me barking, and bit sharply into the back of my bare leg. 

I yelled out, startled by the immediate, intense pain. The attacking dog was still close to me, holding his aggressive stance and barking threats. I scanned my surroundings for anyone who might be responsible for these animals, whose authority could call this barking dog to heel. The lone witness was a man sitting on a curbside across the way. He met my panicked eyes, and offered me a lazy shrug. At a loss, I backed away slowly, breath held, adrenaline pumping. As soon as I'd gained enough distance to disengage the dog's flashing eyes, I fled, limping up the next hill in shock, blinking away the tears, walking faster to dull out the beating pain.

"I did not enjoy that, Lord. I did not enjoy that at all!", I complained to my God. 

A few years ago, I might have started this conversation with God in a different way. More along the lines of,

"WHY!, God? Literally for what reason did that have to happen.... weren't you paying attention to my steps? Didn't you care that these vicious creatures were going to make me cry today? Why would you let me experience this horrible pain, ME, your special, darling girl? And on Easter, no less."

But I had walked alongside God now long enough to know that he was always paying attention to my steps. His hand alone had protected me from far too many of my own near disastrous missteps. My life was his possession, and my days were numbered at his pleasure. Whatever pain or struggle that was allowed into my life was always by his permission.

"If we accept blessings from God, we must accept trouble as well." Job 2:10 

My God, who has given me life, and who has expressly told me to worry for nothing, had also determined that my day would start with teeth in my leg. I had learned better than to question if he knew what he was doing. 

But I certainly could tell him my feelings about it! And I did. And then I went to lunch.  

But by that evening, I had started to feel nauseous, dizzy, feverish. I complained to my colleague, who responded with instant alarm. I hadn't realized until speaking to him that the course of prevention against a potential rabies infection should ideally begin within the first 24 hours after exposure. Once rabies takes hold, it works fast. If the symptoms appeared, it would mean that dehydration and overstimulation of my brain had already set in. Paralysis would creep up from my leg and spread to the other limbs, and my mind would deteriorate into confusion, disorientation, paranoia and aggression. And that would be the very ungraceful state in which I would die. I called my friend to tell her what I'd need her to do in the event of my death- in case I couldn't communicate it later- and I called my mom to let her know that I might well be in the grips of death already.

Early in the morning, as soon as our ship docked, my coworker took me in a taxi to a vaccination clinic in a small riverside city. We took a number: number 108.

I paid the Chinese currency equivalent of $9 US dollars, let there doctor stick a needle in my arm, and smiled with relief as I felt the scales of life and death tip back in my favor.

Over the next month, I received my remaining injections, necessarily at different clinics as we sailed along. Each box of medication was marked with a different brand name and logo, each one cost a different price. Not the most comforting thing in the world....! But still, after I had finished the course of vaccines, I celebrated that I had done "my part" to ensure my continued life. But there were reasons still to doubt whether the injections had succeeded in their work.

My bitten leg continued to tingle and burn every single day. The nights were long and lonely, as my body wrestled furiously- whether against the mounting disease, or in response to the medication, I simply can't know. But I would feel fever, then chills. Stiffness in my muscles, and then no feeling at all as the eerie heat of pins and needles wrapped from my toes to my knee. I would get out of bed at 2am, 3am, 4am... jump, bend, shake my legs, trying to get the tingling to stop. When the burning sensation near my wound became very strong, I would take myself through a panel of small tests and checks to see if any symptoms of rabies had manifested. I pinched the skin of the joints of my fingers, looking for that quick springing back of the skin that spelled hydration. I tested my temper and my mood..... Am I irritable? Aggressive? Confused? Paranoid? (Uhhh... maybe!?) I ran my tongue through my mouth, trying to remember what a "normal" amount of saliva should be.... was I foaming at the mouth yet? I looked out over my balcony at the rushing river, hoping that I wouldn't feel the start of a newfound, super-impractical-for-work fear- the fear of water.

Night after sleepless night, I wondered if I would wake up the same person tomorrow that I was today. I asked God- "Just TELL ME, so I know. Is this how you're going to have me die? Just let me know..... So then I can be chill about it."

The Lord's answer to that request struck me as so strange. Though I could tell he was listening intently to my desperate cries, and though I could feel his presence very nearly with me, his answer was a decided, solemn, I'm-not-telling-you. 

"Sorry, Babe." "No spoilers." 

(My paraphrase.)

He knew the end from the beginning. He knew. But I didn't need to. But every morning that the sun came up, and I rose of my bed to greet another day, I knew he was also saying to me, "Look, Emily. I've given you this day. It's yours to do with what you like." 

I had learned to rely on God for daily energy, daily work to do, daily bread to eat, a daily bed to sleep in and a roof to sleep under, but now I had to learn to rely on him for the day itself.

And so morning after merciful morning, I rose, to meet this gift of a day. Even if it was going to turn out to be the last one. I rose, looking for places in that day to bravely offer more affection, more generosity, and more joy to the thirsting people around me than in the one before. 

I was already perfectly ready to die. That is the powerful peace of being reconciled to God through Jesus, that death isn't anything to fear. Death doesn't have the final say, Jesus does. And I knew, so happily knew, that my soul would never again experience a moment away from his presence, no matter what would become of my body. 

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38

The truth is, I was dying before the dog put poison in my veins and a ticking clock over my head. We are all dying! Any ordinary day could have already been my last day without my ever giving it a second thought. Some ordinary day absolutely will be. And whether we feel it coming in our bones, or find ourselves taken completely by surprise when it happens, we will all have our time on Earth abruptly brought to an end.

The hope and the peace about that unknown moment is, It will not take God by surprise at all. He already knows exactly what day and at exactly what moment he has planned to take us home. He's waiting for that day, when he can gather us up to himself, to his side. Not to remove us from life, but to bring us into a life more abundant. By his side is where we will be perfectly comforted, and newly alive in a better way than we have ever known here. 

So the question I’ve been asking myself over the last couple months is, at that time,

Will we be satisfied with what we've done in the time we were given? 

If you knew it was your last day, Is there anything you would hurry, right now to do? Or any gift or talent you would regret not having put to its fullest use?

We must do the works of Him who sent Me while it is day. Night is coming when no one can work. John 9:4

I don’t think the answer has to be anything grand or sensational. Look at the example of the Lord! 

He knew what his last day on Earth would be, and he found no better way to spend it than at a dinner table with his people (even his betrayer), breaking bread. And after dinner, he washed all their feet! And he called it a day. In fact, he called it a life.

There is this great quote that is attributed to one Martin Luther or the other, that goes something like this:

“If I knew that the world was going to end tomorrow, I would plant an apple tree.”

And another, unattributed, that says, “If I knew that the world would end tomorrow, I would eat a steak.”

It doesn't have to be grand. It doesn't have to be hurried or hasty. It can be casual. A personal choice made out of the security that when you belong to the God of Easter's resurrection, death isn't the end, but just a page break as all things are made new. 

At this strange juncture of my life, I've embraced "casually dying". Come what may. Because we do have a hope and a future secured. And all the better, we still have Today.

When you wake up in the next merciful morning, imagine God saying to you, along with me,

"Look, Beloved. I've given you this day. It's yours to do with what you like.”

Story continued here.