Come and go, or not, but stay with us

We visited many family members over the holidays, including one who is getting quite along in years.  We observed that she can barely see anymore, and she can barely hear.  Also, she can barely walk or get around.  I had to wonder about her quality of life, so limited as she is.


Last week I groaned when I read an Associated Press article about a doctor who helped multiple patients take their own lives.  All the patients mentioned were elderly and "suffered from ailments including Parkinson's disease, multiple sclerosis, vascular disease, depression, and chronic pulmonary disease" (emphasis mine).


The doctor was quoted as saying, "I talked only.  And I would say, 'Well, if you want to do it, these are the ways it's possible.'"


So we are talking about a person with depression, approaching a doctor for healing, who is told how to kill himself?  How to hasten the very worst and most dangerous outcome for a depression sufferer?


In essence, the doctor is saying, "You're right.  You're not worth having around on this planet anymore.  Go kill yourself."


Thank God the Maryland Board of Physicians had the sense to revoke the man's medical license.


I am a depression patient.  Ought I to hasten my exit?  How much simpler that would be than figuring out a treatment plan.  Ought our elderly family members give in to the doubts about whether they are still valued?


What about quadriplegics like Joni Eareckson Tada?  What value can someone offer this world when they themselves are suffering and perhaps are no longer sure they want to be here?


Lately I have spent time every day studying and pondering over the words of Moses in Deuteronomy 31:1-13.  They are inspired and inspiring words, well worthy of meditation and memorization.


"Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or tremble at them, for the LORD your God is the one who goes with you.  He will not fail you or forsake you."


Beautiful, necessary words.  Spoken by Moses, the man who faced down Pharaoh and parted the Red Sea, right?


Well, yes.  But notice Moses' introduction to the passage:


"I am a hundred and twenty years old today; I am no longer able to come and go" (emphasis mine).


This man was not unlike our great-grandmothers, leaning heavily on their walkers, or Joni in her wheelchair... or how I often feel when children prevent me from leaving the house to do big important things.


At 120 years old, Moses likely even had Parkinson's or cardiovascular disease.  His life's value, far from being dried up with his physical ability, still had immeasurable worth; he had words of life to speak.


How blessed we are when the sufferers amongst us persevere in faith, passing on wisdom and courage, whether they are coming, going, or sitting still.