Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who have fallen asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. 1 Thessalonians 4:13

I was in a plane in Charlotte, North Carolina taxiing to the terminal when I received the phone call from my wife, “Dan passed away this morning.” They were words I had expected to receive at some point soon, as his declining health was unrecoverable, but the news still seemed surreal and left me sorrowful. He had fought back from many tough physical illnesses before, but this turned out to be his final battle.

Just earlier in that flight on the long approach for landing, while looking out the window to the landscape below I had been remembering Dan in intercessory prayer. I recalled a unforgettable season of blessing with him decades earlier, beginning in September of 1974. Dr. Dan and his wife Miriam, along with their young children, had graciously opened their hearts and home in Vanga, Zaire (Congo) to a troubled 20 year old, in search of deeper faith, real-life perspective and meaningful purpose. For these medical missionaries the village of Vanga by the Kwilu River, with its medical hospital and nursing training school (which they had labored to develop), was home.

In the midst of it all, Dan – with his strong faith and witty sense of humor, and Miriam – with her gracious smile and warm love, spoke into my life with all that they knew to be true in their own. It was discipleship up-close-and-personal. It was mentoring by way of hands-on life engagement. They were likely unsure of their investment in me, and its consequent life-impact when it came time for my scheduled departure after 6 months. Yet 30 years past that blessed season, I could easily say without hesitation that it was life-altering. Indeed, I was where I was in pastoral ministry in Maine largely because of their supplied open hearts and home supplied and some significant surgery of the soul Dan performed on me in Africa all those years prior.

Over the years that followed Dan and I periodically connected. He had retired from the “mission field” as a surgeon but up until 2013 he had traveled, taught and lectured around the globe at various medical health conferences and educational venues. He had written prolifically; diagnostic manuals, books on tropical public health, healing of the whole person and even a book on the life of Jesus (always through the eye of a medical missionary). We shared laughable stories of our past time together in the bush, but also discussed the present serious side of spreading the gospel in areas resistant to it; be it on sandy African soil or rocky New England soil. His passion for the lost and sending out well prepared medical missionaries was unshakeable, yet he was very real about discouragements in the midst of the work. He also had grieved the loss of his beloved Miriam. I treasured his heart. I treasured his voice!

I last heard his voice the week or so earlier before that Charlotte flight. It was not the usual Dan, but tired with labored breathing. He was still engaged however, asking of how the ministry was going in Maine, and interested in particular in the pastoral mentoring ministry I was also doing. He then gave some words of encouragement and advice. I commented how amazing it was that his oldest son Paul and wife Jackie (living outside London) had just that month opened their home for hospitality and godly wisdom to my own son Andrew while he was there in the UK on business. The blessing had been passed to the next generation! After repeating my thanksgiving to Dan, for him and Miriam investing in me, we closed in prayer for each other. Then we bid each other love and goodbye… for what became the last time.

We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep. 1 Thessalonians 4:14

But by the grace of God and the power of the cross which leads to our resurrection we will see each other again. Therefore I refuse to grieve like those with no hope. Oh, I grieve! In truth, I grieve for myself and family left behind. Separation from one loved cannot help but tear the heart and open the flood of tears. The loss of someone so influential, irreplaceable and with so much still left to give brings a certain degree of anguish to the soul. And with age, no matter how hard we try, even our own rich colorful memories fade like old photos in their plastic album casing, and there is no longer a chance to make a new one.

Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, and eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. 2 Co. 5:1

I don’t grieve for Dan. He has fought the good fight and kept the gospel faith all the way to the end. I imagine gladly he has exchanged his faith for sight and his earthly tent for a heavenly home. Though his heartache was to leave behind those he loved, there were those who had preceded him whom were his deep desire and hope to embrace again. And as was his own understanding, upon his last breath he was not cured but healed – whole.

Easter takes on fresh meaning when viewed through the lens of fresh loss. The sentimentality of spring and Easter baskets is of no importance. The power of the cross and the empty tomb is! For it is not so much help that we need when faced with death and dying, it is hope. Hope in Christ Jesus who said, I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this? John 11:25-26

Dan believed and lived it in Africa. He told me so, and I personally saw it to actually be so. He firmly held on to that hope then. Now, its been 50 years since that impactful season of blessing in Africa. At age 70, I live and believe it too. And I still hold firmly to that very same hope. 

—RWO/MAST