Death

A father of our presbytery has fallen. Pastor Petros Roukas, who served as senior pastor of Tates Creek Presbyterian Church, took his own life leaving behind hundreds of souls who looked to him as their shepherd, his fellow elders of Ohio Valley Presbytery (PCA); and most sadly, his wife and their two children.

Meeting just now in our fall stated meeting, Ohio Valley Presbytery adopted the following memorial. Please note, particularly, the words in the final paragraph concerning the sin of suicide and the hope, even in the face of this sin, that we have in the blood of Jesus Christ. (For those struggling for a biblical understanding of suicide, I commend these two sermons by the early nineteenth century Princeton Seminary professor and presbyterian pastor, Samuel Miller.)

Memorial for Pastor Petros Roukas Ohio Valley Presbytery 10/09/04

The teaching elders, ruling elders, and churches of Ohio Valley Presbytery of the Presbyterian Church in America are saddened by the death of our friend and brother Petros Roukas on September 22, 2004. We intercede before the throne of grace for God's comfort and strength for his wife Jan and children Nicholas and Elizabeth and for his parents Konstantine and Evangelia Roukas in Greece. We also pray for the congregation of Tates Creek Presbyterian Church in Lexington, Kentucky where he was serving at the time of his death as well as the previous congregations he served - Westminster PCA in Muncie, Indiana and Calvary PCA in Bricktown, New Jersey.

Petros was born in Greece in 1953 and received a Bachelors of Religious Education at Reformed Bible College in Grand Rapids, Michigan and a Masters of Divinity from Covenant Theological Seminary in St. Louis, Missouri. He was ordained in 1978 by the Midwest Presbytery of the Reformed Presbyterian Church, Evangelical Synod. He served faithfully at Calvary PCA from 1978-1984; Westminster PCA from 1984-1999; and Tates Creek PCA from 1999-2004. His pastoral ministry was marked by effective preaching and teaching of the gospel, helpful application of the gospel in pastoral counseling settings, strengthening the shepherding ministry of ruling elders, building community in the congregation, and leading numerous cross--cultural mission teams--especially to Jamaica and Mexico.

Throughout his twenty years in Ohio Valley Presbytery of the PCA (previously part of Great Lakes Presbytery) he served on numerous committees. Especially noteworthy was his long term service on the Shepherding Committee where he helped numerous pastors and congregations look to Christ for both the purity and unity of the church.

While the tragic events surrounding his death at his own hand were certainly related to his long struggle with depression--they were also what Petros himself called "sinful and inexcusable." While Petros' grip on the truths of the gospel he preached and ministered so faithfully grew weak in his final actions, we are confident that God did not lose His grip on Petros. We hold that Paul's words in Romans 8 that "if Christ is for us, who can be against us" and "nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus" apply to God's adopted children--even when they are the very ones who are against themselves. As elders of Ohio Valley Presbytery--may God give us the grace to go to Jesus as we are weary and heavy burdened and may God also give us the grace to not only minister to others but to receive ministry from one another as well.

(Memorial gifts, including financial support for Mrs. Roukas, may be sent to Tates Creek Presbyterian Church at 3900 Rapid Run Drive, Lexington, KY 40515.)

As another example of ending well, submitting to God's dispensation of decrepitude with a willing and usually cheerful spirit, I would hold up my dear father and mother-in-law, Ken and Margaret Taylor. What joy and love we have received from them through the years! And how faithful they have been to demonstrate bearing up under the sorrows of life (and now the limitations of old age) with submission and faith.

Wheaton College is the alma mater both of my own father and mother and of Mary Lee's parents. Recently Wheaton's alumni magazine asked Dad Taylor to write a short piece for them--he could choose the subject. Here then is the piece he wrote, published this month. May God give all of us this same spirit during the years when the "almond tree blossoms" (Eccles. 12:1-7).

On Aging

by Kenneth N. Taylor

(from the Autumn 2004 issue of Wheaton College's alumni magazine, Wheaton)

When Wheaton's editor asked me to write a short article, I guess I was feeling grumpy that day and tried to decline. But she is a good sales lady; and as she opened the possibilities ("You can write on anything you want to"), I began to think about the fact that not many people are old enough to write with authority on Old Age. This fact was further driven home when my wife of 64 years, Margaret, had only seven of her classmates plus spouses show up for their 65th class reunion at Alumni Weekend in May. So being one of the "last roses of summer," I surely should be able to share a few helpful thoughts.

The only ultimate disaster that can befall us, I have come to realize, is to feel ourselves to be at home here on earth. As long as we are aliens,we cannot forget our true homeland, which is that other kingdom You proclaimed.

(Malcolm Muggeridge in Jesus Rediscovered.)

Speaking of death, since I turned fifty-one an hour and fifteen minutes ago, may I finally ask that I be referred to, with respect, as "Old Bayly"? It's little to ask.

(As Samuel Pepys and Lewis Bayly demonstrate, Bailey and Bayly were interchangeable back then.)

Our denomination, the Presbyterian Church in America, started a new online magazine last year titled By Faith Online. Regularly, the editor, Dominic Aquila, sends out an E-mail containing news of interest to PCA members and teasers for the latest issue. Today I received the latest copy and noticed this announcement top and center:

If I End Up Like Terri: An Open Letter to My Wife

Mark Hartwig, a ruling elder in Forestgate Presbyterian Church in Colorado Springs, Colo., has been fighting cancer for 10 years. He wrote "If I End Up Like Terri: An Open Letter to My Wife" in light of the Terri Schiavo matter. To read the whole letter, go here. It begins:

These last few months have troubled me deeply. And I have a request that I hope you'll have the courage and strength to honor: If I ever become like Terri Schiavo, please don't put me through what she has endured.

After fighting cancer for 10 years; after suffering through multiple courses of toxic drugs; after two stem-cell transplants and 16 dismal weeks in a hospital room, tied to tangles of tubes, I've only scratched the surface of her misery. I feel as if I've scaled great mountains of suffering only to find I'm in the foothills of a range that towers beyond sight.

Reading the text, "If I ever become like Terri Schiavo, please don't put me through what she has endured," I feared the worst. But reading the full text of Mr. Hartwig's open letter, I was moved. Deeply moved.

If I may insert a personal note, the description Mr. Hartwig gives of how he would want to die is almost exactly how our brother, Nathan, a pastor in Bristol, Virginia, was privileged to die three and a half years ago now, at the age of forty. He was at home the last few months, hooked up to an IV pump, loving and being loved day and night by his faithful wife, Sandy; their four children, Cassie, Sarah, Frances, and David; and the Bayly extended family member whose privilege it was to serve them that week.

Please take a moment to read Mr. Hartwig's letter. Then join me in giving thanks for his witness.

A couple hours ago, Dad Taylor went to be with the Lord. God was so good to us. We had just joined the rest of the family that had been here at 1515 East Forest caring for Dad and Mom--daughter Becky; son Peter and his wife, Sharon; son Mark; daughter Gretchen and her husband, Bob; and then Mary Lee and I with our youngest two, Hannah and Taylor, arrived. Within the half hour of our coming into Dad's room, he breathed his last.

We were in the room around his bed singing "Holy, Holy, Holy" when Gretchen noticed his breathing had stopped. We sang the Doxology, read Psalm 91, and prayed together.

Mom had been out with Becky at an audiology appointment. When she returned and was told, she responded "Well, he got home before dark."

Here is the poem Mom was referring to:

LET ME GET HOME BEFORE DARK

by J. Robertson McQuilkin

It's sundown, Lord.
The shadows of my life stretch back
into the dimness of the years long spent.
I fear not death, for that grim foe betrays himself at last,
thrusting me forever into life:
Life with you, unsoiled and free.
But I do fear.
I fear the Dark Spectre may come too soon -
or do I mean, too late?
That I should end before I finish or
finish, but not well.
That I should stain your honor, shame your name,
grieve your loving heart.
Few, they tell me, finish well...
Lord, let me get home before dark.

The darkness of a spirit
grown mean and small, fruit shriveled on the vine,
bitter to the taste of my companions,
burden to be borne by those brave few who love me still.
No, Lord. Let the fruit grow lush and sweet,
A joy to all who taste:
Spirit-sign of God at work,
stronger, fuller, brighter at the end.
Lord let me get home before dark.

The darkness of tattered gifts,
rust-locked, half-spent or ill-spent.
A life that once was used of God
now set aside.
Grief for glories gone or
Fretting for a task God never gave.
Mourning in the hollow chambers of memory.
Gazing on the faded banners of victories long gone.
Cannot I run well unto the end?
Lord, let me get home before dark.

The outer me decays -
I do not fret or ask reprieve.
The ebbing strength but weans me from mother earth
and grows me up for heaven.
I do not cling to shadows cast by immortality.
I do not patch the scaffold lent to build the real, eternal me.
I do not clutch about me my cocoon,
vainly struggling to hold hostage
a free spirit pressing to be born.

But will I reach the gate
in lingering pain, body distorted, grotesque?
Or will it be a mind
wandering untethered among light phantasies or
grim terrors?
Of your grace, Father, I humbly ask...
Let me get home before dark.

-as printed in the Spring, 1989 Columbia Bible College & Seminary Quarterly

Arrangements for Dad's visitation and memorial service have been finalized. Visitation will be Tuesday afternoon and evening, from 2-8 PM, at Wheaton College's Coray Alumni Gym. The memorial service will be Wednesday morning, 10 AM, at Wheaton College's Edman Chapel with committal immediately following at Wheaton Cemetery (family only, please).

It's been extremely hot this past week. When we first exited O'Hare a week ago, the heat was a welcome relief from the cool weather we'd had in Africa and England. But within a few minutes it became oppressive and it hasn't let up since.

The other day when I got in the car the heat brought to mind our Lord's account of the Rich Man and Lazarus in the afterlife, and how the Rich Man in Hell cried out for water, but could have none. For a few minutes I meditated on what an awful place hell is--a place where the heat is unbearable and the thirst can never be quenched.

Reputable evangelicals such as John Stott deny the eternity of hell torments and that is understandable. It's one of the most difficult doctrines to submit to in all of Scripture. But as Harry Blamires wrote in his classic, The Christian Mind, if we're going to start tearing difficult passages out of Scripture, shouldn't we start with the one that's always been more offensive than any other:

(Jesus) was saying to them all, "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake, he is the one who will save it. For what is a man profited if he gains the whole world, and loses or forfeits himself?" (Luke 9:23-25).

For men tempted to take Stott's shortcut and play with universalism and annihilationism, I highly recommend Jonathan Edward's sermon, "The Eternity of Hell Torments." Commenting on the Biblical account of the Rich Man and Lazarus found in Luke 16:19ff., Edwards exclaims over men like Stott:

It is strange how men will go directly against so plain and full revelations of Scripture, as to suppose notwithstanding all these things, that the eternal punishment threatened against the wicked signifies no more than annihilation.

Incidentally, for several reasons (including that, contrary to His habit in telling parables, our Lord actually names the central character in this account, 'Lazarus') John Calvin believed that this account was not a parable, but real history that Jesus knew from Heaven.

Today, my daughter Hannah and I were driving out in the country and we stopped at a farm stand. The stand's attendant was in her sixties and we waited while she finished her conversation with a customer of a similar age. Of course, the topic was the weather--specifically,the unbearable heat. The customer commented, "Preachers oughta tell their congregations tomorrow that this heat gives you an idea what hell's like."

Prayer: O Father, Creator of both Heaven and Hell, give us a living faith in the blood and righteousness of Your Son, Jesus Christ, that we might escape the fires of hell and be brought safely, along with all who love you with an undying love, into your presence where there is fulness of joy forevermore. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Knowing myself, I can imagine many of our good readers saying to themselves about the post just under this one, "Yeah, that sounds real light and fun. Some dead guy writing about some other dead guy, and it's not even Scripture. If I want exercise, I'll go straight to Scripture--not to a secondary source. Anyhow, my life is hard enough; I don't want to think about death and heaven and hell and prayer. Forget it."

As the Stones (thanks, Rob) put it:

I told you once and I told you twice
But you never listen to my advice...

This could be the last time
This could be the last time
Maybe the last time
I don't know

Come on, read it.

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross tells of noticing the positive afterglow in a London hospice after a black cleaning woman had passed through patients' rooms.

"'What are you doing with these dying patients?' I asked," Kubler-Ross writes in her book, Questions About Death and Dying. "She became very defensive and emphasized that she only cleaned the rooms."

After weeks of trying to get to know the woman, Kubler-Ross was finally able to speak freely with her. She learned that she had been raised in a ghetto and currently led a life of near-poverty. She had once sat in a hospital waiting for hours for a physician to see her three-year-old son. The boy died in the waiting room

"She ended her story with the following statement," Kubler-Ross writes, "You know, death is not a stranger to me any more. He's like an old acquaintance and I'm not afraid of him. Once in a while when I walk into the room of some of these dying patients they look so scared that I cannot help but walk over to them and touch them and say, "It's not so terrible."

Jesus speaks to us and says of death, "It's not so terrible."

And we as Christians minister comfort to the world simply by looking death and suffering steadfastly in the eye, touching those who suffer and telling them gently, "It's not so terrible."

It's not so terrible. For those who know Christ even death itself is an old and conquered acquaintance.

Tim and I learned from our mother and father that nothing is more comforting than a touch of friendship and a reassuring word that God's sovereignty, while immensely painful at moments, is the strong mountain of those who trust in Him.

Actions which comfort are good. Even better is that form of comfort which takes suffering in stride and confidently looks to God. Dad used to say that Job's comforters did a great job for the first week--as long as they merely sat at Job's side in silence, they were all he needed. It was only when they opened their mouths that they turned from comforters to tormenters.

(Actually posted by Tim.)

The latest New Yorker has a profile of Paul McCartney titled "When I'm Sixty-Four." It's a melancholy piece, even when it's trying oh-so-hard to be cheerful. The dominant chord is struck by this excerpt from the album McCartney's about to release, Memory Almost Full, the cut "The End of the End":

On the day that I die
I'd like the jokes to be told
And stories of old
To be rolled out like carpets
That children have played on
And laid on while listening
To stories of old.

But for us, the saddest note struck must be this vignette...

(by David) Such are the initial words of the commital service from Cranmer's Book of Common Prayer...

Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.

In the midst of life we are in death: of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins are justly displeased?

Last night I took the picture at left of Abigail Morgan and her mother, Julie. This afternoon, at home and in her parents' arms, Abigail succumbed to leukemia and went to be with the Lord.

We praise God for the faithful witness of the Morgans. And we deeply appreciate those of our readers who remembered Abigail and her parents in prayer.

Life is fleeting, eternity imminent. May we live as aliens and strangers on earth to the glory of our heavenly Father.

(Tim) God bless all of you for your kind expressions of love and faith which have greatly comforted our family. Thinking about how many of our loved ones won't be home yet this Sunday, Mary Lee and I have decided not to have Aunt Elaine's memorial service for another week or two. We'll announce the date here on the blog as well as through our church E-mail list.

I've known the grief of losing loved ones; my brothers, father-in-law, Mapalo, Rita... many others. Then, of course, my father. If the Lord had not been on our side, we would have been swept away.

Beyond the private sphere, I've been struck with a more public grief, but rarely. I think my grief when John Lennon died wasn't really for him, but for the death of my youth. Immediately, though, I was brought to my senses by my dear friend, Paul Cote, who suggested it was God's kindness, keeping Lennon from even greater condemnation had he lived longer.

When Francis Schaeffer died...

(Tim) An excellent post on Gary Gygax and D&D by Pastor Travis Hutchinson. The post makes good applications to the copy-cat nature of what passes today for Christian imagination; also to the inhospitality of our church youth groups.

(Tim/ from Jim) Steven Curtis and Mary Beth Chapman just lost their five year old daughter, Maria. She was killed earlier this morning in a tragic accident at the Chapman home. Please pray for the Chapman family, but particularly their sixteen year old son, Will, as they grieve Maria's departure for Heaven.

The Chapmans have been personally helpful to our family in several ways over the years and we consider them rare gems within the CCM industry. They're members of Christ Community (PCA) Church in Franklin, Tennessee.

(Tim: A week or so ago, thirty plus members of Church of the Good Shepherd went to Bloomington's City Council meeting to oppose our tax dollars being appropriated by the Council members to fund an organization that makes Hitler's Third Reich and it's Holocaust factories look like child's play. I'm speaking of course of Planned Parenthood which makes its living off of the slaughter of unborn children tenderly nestled in their mother's womb. By itself, Planned Parenthood is responsible for a quarter of a million of those murders each year, and they're moving their abattoirs into more affluent areas in order to grow their bloody profit.

Each year here in Bloomington, Planned Parenthood goes through the charade of requesting tax dollars to help provide its clients with some service close to, but not exactly coterminous with it's slaughter machine. And each year, our city fathers cuddle up to this progressive nonprofit and ante up our dough over our vociferous protest. One of those speaking against this Holocaust funding this year was Mary Lee's and my dear friend and fellow CGS member, Joshua Congrove. Although we were out of town at the time, we heard Josh's testimony was good, so I asked him if he could send me a copy. Here are a few prefaratory comments he wrote to set the scene, followed by what he said that night.)

This year, as usual, Planned Parenthood received a donation from the Bloomington City Council (and from public funds) to support a particular medical procedure. While the procedure itself is unobjectionable, the giving of public money to an organization that performs hundreds of abortions per year is an egregious act that demands objection...

(Tim) Yesterday, Pastor Conrad Mbewe posted an account of the services held for his dear friend and fellow elder, Dr. Simon Mphuka, who was laid to rest last Friday. The loss to Kabwata Baptist Church there in Lusaka, Zambia, and to the nation itself (Dr. Mphuka was a key leader in the provision of medical care in association with local churches in southern Africa) is large and I ask you to join me in praying for the Lord's comfort for Dr. Mphuka's widow, Lillian, and her three daughters, as well as our brothers in Christ there in Lusaka.

(Tim, w/thanks to James) If you're a logophile, philologer, or philologue, you might get a kick out of this written by Laurance Urdang and used by the NYT as the final paragraph of his obituary:

This is not a succedaneum for satisfying the nympholepsy of nullifidians. Rather it is hoped that the haecceity of this enchiridion of arcane and recondite sesquipedalian items will appeal to the oniomania of an eximious Gemeinschaft whose legerity and sophrosyne, whose Sprachgefühl and orexis will find more than fugacious fulfillment among its felicific pages.

(Tim, w/thanks to David T.) Apparently the chattering classes never knew where turkey wishbones, legs, and breasts came from. Quite a firestorm has broken out over Governor Palin taking an interview at a turkey farm. As she was interviewed, turkeys were being killed in the background.

Aghast at the scene, as the clip was about to be aired, MSNBC newscaster David Shuster advised parents to get their kids "out of the room." After the clip, Shuster reported a "photographer asked Governor Palin if she wanted that as a backdrop and she replied, 'No worries.'" (Good responses here and here, and full length video here.)

Every Christian would do well to make sure his sons kills an animal now and then as a reminder that God has given critters to us for food and we should rejoice in His provision. To kill and eat animals is not to be cruel. It's an act of faith. Man alone bears the Image of God. Turkeys, dolphins, dogs, and crickets do not. (And with apologies to certain friends, certainly not cats.)

Earlier today, Mary Lee and I agreed that, like it or not, our youngest son, Taylor, will go deer hunting next week with Mike Boles and his son, Seth. Taylor isn't particularly interested, but he'll be going anyhow. It's a discipline fastidious boys shouldn't miss...

(Tim) Father Richard John Neuhaus has passed through the valley of the shadow of death. May God have mercy on his soul. His death is a great loss for Roman Catholics and Protestants, alike. But maybe even more for Protestants since there are few men of his Biblical understanding, discernment, and courage among us. Toll the bell.

From Joseph Bottum, the editor of First Things:

Fr. Richard John Neuhaus slipped away today, January 8, shortly before 10 o’clock, at the age of seventy-two. He never recovered from the weakness that sent him to the hospital the day after Christmas, caused by a series of side effects from the cancer he was suffering. He lost consciousness Tuesday evening after a collapse in his heart rate, and the next day, in the company of friends, he died...

(Tim) Late last night, David forwarded an e-mail that my longtime friend, Larry Allen, had died. It was a sudden death with no prior warning. Larry was on the phone with a co-worker and friend, laughing, and then God took him. The cause of death is unknown.

For seven or eight years, I served on the board of Presbyterians Pro-Life with Larry and that's when I knew him best. Being a witness for the unborn in the Presbyterian Church (USA), a pagan denomination where, as early as 1983, official denominational documents said that abortion "can be an act of faithfulness before God," meant the entire time we were at denominational meetings and general assemblies we suffered the most vile opposition. Everything short of physical attack.

Larry cared very much about the weak and oppressed, being pleased to humble himself in his association with the despised work of speaking up for the unborn. And in speaking up for them, he wasn't simply associated with God's "Yes" in supporting crisis pregnancy centers (which he did); he also said God's "No," preaching and teaching and calling us to repentance for our cruelty in slaughtering our little ones.

(Tim) Tentatively, the visitation for Elizabeth Rasmusen, daughter of Eric and Helen Rasmusen, has been set for this coming Thursday, July 23rd, from 4-8 PM at Deremiah Frye Mortuary. The funeral service is likely to be Friday morning, July 24th, but neither the time nor location has yet been set.

Just now, Eric and Helen are at the visitation for Eric's father and mother, Benjamin and Marilyn Rasmusen, at the Eighner Funeral Home in Somonauc, Illinois. Services in Illinois will be held tomorrow morning at 10 AM at St. John's Lutheran Church, also in Somonauk.

Here's the obituary for Benjamin and Marilyn Rasmusen.

As it now stands, it is likely Amelia and Ben, Eric and Helen's two children also injured in the crash, will be released from the hospital tomorrow.

In behalf of Eric, Helen, and their family, I thank all of you for your love for the Lord Jesus Christ which has poured out to the comfort of the entire Rasmusen family.

(Tim) Recently, I've done some reading on the teaching of Scripture concerning children who die early in life, whether in the womb, at birth, or before the age at which they are able properly to discern the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ--to examine themselves as they come to His Table.

First, we have to admire the single-mindedness of the Roman Catholics. Although the doctrine of limbo is widely reported to be on life support at the Vatican right now (and I'm sure abortion has played a key role in bringing it into question), we can see they acted on principle in their manufacture of this dogma. (And yes, despite their efforts to deny it, this doctrine has been dogma until now.)

From conception, children are corrupted by Adam's sin; therefore children, too, need to be saved from that corruption if they are to enter Heaven; baptism washes off the corruption of original sin, saving a man; children who die in the womb are not baptized; therefore, children who die in the womb are not saved. Thus such statements as these...

(Tim) Our spam filter has been acting up again causing legitimate comments to be thrown into a spam bin where, in thirty days, they die if David or I don't go in and browse the smut to see if there's some treasure. You can imagine that browsing the smut is, for us, not something we want to do. So that, combined with time constraints, means we are late to find those treasures. And that means when we do find the treasures and post them, often they're so late to the queue that they don't show up on the "Recent Comments" column of the blog's main page. So, you'd have to be reading old comments for the fun of it to find them.

Sad state of affairs, isn't it?

All this to point your attention to a couple comments you don't want to miss, both toward the bottom of the page. One is by Eric Rasmusen who, grieving the loss of his parents and nine-year-old daughter, Lizzie, last month, wrestles with the question of Scripture's teaching on the eternal destiny of children of believers...