Room 130 Part 2: The Value and Importance of Scripture Memory

I delight to do your will, O my God: your law is within my heart. Psalm 40:8

I have stored up your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you. Psalm 119:11

This past year has taught me many life lessons. There is a strange curiosity about dying that causes wonder as one sits by the side of a loved one who is slowly sleeping and slipping away. What is she thinking or is she thinking at all? What does she hear? What does she see? Can she feel my touch? These are all questions that raced through my mind in the last days of her life.

We saw it coming! It was a slow process much like a balloon that deflates because of a tiny pinprick. Her life began to slowly slip over a year ago.

For nearly a year before her gentle decline Byron began to read Psalm 23 to her. Each Friday she looked forward with anticipation for us to visit, and for Byron to read Psalm 23, 100 and 103 to her. Besides hearing scripture, ironically, the other favorite thing she liked was a cup of cold water. After her gulps and sips she would always say, “Oh, that is so good.” It was evident that she was truly refreshed by water and the Word.

Weeks passed; the routine continued. Friday morning visits full of scripture and cups of cold water. Over time she began to memorize Psalm 23. She was ninety-four.

One particular day after she quoted, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,
 for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” She paused and asked, “Does that mean I don’t have to fear death?” Stunned, we answered, “Yes, Lu, Jesus is always with you. He is your great Shepherd, you need not fear death.”

Weekly visits began to take on new meaning. Although we did not fully grasp it right away, our regular visits were becoming preparation for eternity. Those cups of cold water that she loved so much were more than just cups of cold water. They had become like living water (John 4:14) as she drank in the truth of the words she had memorized and heard. She was being washed by the Word (Titus 3:4-7). God was busy in Room 130 preparing her for eternity, and we had become active observers of His sovereign power and merciful providence in the process.

Recently, as we stood by the graveside, tearfully, we reflected on this past year and arrived at the conclusion that when it is all said and done there is not much in this earthly life that really matters. We have a little plaque hanging by the door in our mudroom that says it well, “Only one life, twill soon be past, only what’s done for Christ will last. “To me to live is Christ,” Philippians 1:21.

This past year has taught me the value of scripture memory as well as learning and memorizing the words to hymns and choruses. Hiding God’s Word in our heart is valuable not only to keep us from sinning, but also to prepare ourselves in this life as we journey into eternity. 

Who will be at my side in my latter days? What will I be thinking? What will I be hearing? What will I be seeing? Will I be able to feel the tender touch of those nearby?  Through this past year, the life lesson I have learned in all of this is: While I am still able I want to hide God’s Word in my heart so that one day it will be living water that washes over me as I journey from now into eternity!

               

                       

Room 130

For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, 2 Corinthians 5:1-2.

For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. Philippians 1:21.

It was 2:58 AM when we got the call. “She is fading fast can you get here soon?” was the message on the other end of the phone. We had gone home nearly eleven hours earlier knowing the end was near. She was ninety-five.

We hurriedly dressed, and in the still of the night when most of our side of the world was sleeping we made what would become one of our last journeys that had been the weekly ebb and flow of our lives for over 3 years. Mostly we were quiet as we drove our familiar forty-five minute path. It was a trip we had made so many times we could almost do it in our sleep. And now, we were making it while the world slept.

Silence was interrupted by occasional questions, “How did we get here so fast?” “Where did the time go?” Waves and floods of memories began to flow, that had spanned our lifetimes, as we neared our journey’s end.

Lucile was the most gracious and giving person I have met. Suffering and affliction had taught her well and it was evident by the way she lived her life. She knew pain and she knew loss. She learned patience as she waited three years for her husband to return home from the beaches of the South Pacific beaten and worn from the trauma of war. She understood sacrifice when she and Chuck took family members into their home and cared for them in their later years. Over the years, as arthritis began to gnarl her hands and back pain became persistent she did not flinch or complain. She pressed on spilling mercy and love into the lives of those around her.

Just as Lu was gracious in living she was gracious in dying. She loved Psalm 23 and had memorized it over the last year or so. Every visit she wanted to say it and have Psalm 100 and 103 read to her. Even in her final days when her body was wasting away and her strength to speak was nearly gone I could see her try to mouth the words as Byron read them to her.

It was 4 AM when we arrived. The stillness of silence was loud, but there was only one thing that mattered. Grasping her old and gnarled hand for the last time we bent over her bed and into her ear said, “Lu, we are here, we love you, Jesus loves you.” Life was draining from her body in a very visible way. In the stillness of night and a dimly lit room at 4:15 AM that Sunday morning God was very busy at work as Lu breathed her last breath, left her earthly tent, and entered into eternity. Tears of sorrow and joy mingled as we quietly wept and pondered the bitter sweetness of death. Loss is gain. Loss reminds us of the fact that she will be missed. Gain reminds us of our eternal home. It is only one breath away.

In the coming days and years, as I think about Lu, I will remember how she lived and died graciously. The character qualities of mercy, patience, grace, goodness, and perseverance that she modeled have left a deep impression on me. She lived her life well. So too, must I. 

Jesus I My Cross Have Taken

I have not forgotten about blogging. I have been a bit distracted lately, but will be getting back to some blogging soon. In the mean time I will be posting some hymn favorites for your edification.

 I love old hymns that have been updated for the purpose of revival in worship. I love the artistry of Indelible Grace. I hope you do too.