March 25, 2005
As perhaps the most widely recognized symbol of Christianity, the cross of Christ represents the enormous sacrifice of God on our behalf. The cross is God’s answer to the dilemma of both satisfying His righteous standards of holiness and somehow extending to us the hope of grace. Beyond the cross is an emptied tomb… emptied of the body of the resurrected Lord Jesus, emptied of the terror of the grave and emptied of the hopelessness and sorrow of what would be a vain existence were there not life on the other side of death.
Easter is a celebration of life. How interesting then to have before the eyes of our nation and as a spectacle to the world a battle being waged over the life or death of one Terri Schiavo. The situation has raised so many moral questions that it seems to have sent our culture reeling.
It’s a deeply troubling scenario: a woman allegedly tells her husband that she never wants to have to live in a vegetative state. Lo and behold, because a chemical imbalance results in the momentary stopping of her heart, she suffers severe brain damage and cannot swallow food. Furthermore, her ability to interact with her environment is very, very limited although apparently not entirely negated.
Now a lot of tough questions must be faced. What, for example, constitutes a “vegetative state”? What does it really mean to “die with dignity”? What makes a life worth living? And ultimately, in whose realm is the decision to live or die anyway?
The first question is problematic from the get-go in that folks are meaning different things by the expression “vegetative state”. For much of the public at large, “vegetative state” implies a “brain dead” condition. So, when some folks hear that Mrs. Schiavo is in a “vegetative state”, they naturally envision machines forcing her body to breathe and that they are the only things keeping her heart from beating its last.
However, if that is the way that we must define “vegetative state”, then Terri Schiavo does not seem to fit the mold. She does indeed seem to be aware of her surroundings, to recognize loved ones and to even be responsive to those around her. On the other hand, if we feel that we must broaden the definition of “vegetative state” to include some sort of diminished “quality of life”, just how far do we broaden it? Are we not likely to open a Pandora’s Box by creating a check list for characteristics that establish a satisfactory standard applied to everyone? If we are, then people with all sorts of disabilities should be alarmed. Even our senior citizens should take note and be sure that they do not inadvertently cross the line into the status of being “better off dead.”
But then we argue our entitlement to “die with dignity”. Doubtless, this particular thought especially resonates with those who have recently seen the movie, “Million Dollar Baby”. In the movie, Maggie, a rising superstar in the world of female boxing, is unexpectedly shut down at what should be the zenith of her career. Paralyzed by the incident, she begs the help of her trainer, Frankie, in ending her life.
While I can’t help but agree that the future for someone faced with this may be filled with pain and struggle, I can’t help but point out too that there is no dignity in running from a future that one fears. For all the fighters who have lost what appeared to be nearly all quality of life and yet fought on, this movie does a tremendous disservice.
In Mrs. Schiavo’s case, it has crossed my mind more than once that an off-hand comment made years earlier to her husband, may now be determining for her a painful and horrid death by starvation and dehydration. I suspect that though she may or may not have actually made those comments to her husband, she could have had no way of knowing what decision she would actually make if ever really faced with that kind of choice.
But what really makes a life worth saving anyway? What is it that gives a life its value? Is it what someone does? Is it what someone gives? If it is either of these things, some of us walking around with healthy bodies and sound minds are in big trouble since we may be lacking in measurable contributions or achievements. No, I’d argue that it’s something more than these: God does not value us based on what we can do or what we can give.
Could our value then be wrapped up in the hope of achieving our deepest and most important dreams? Again, those who have suffered the death of their dearest dreams would be in grave danger. Perhaps while in depression and defeat they may welcome death to escape pain and grief, hope waits on the other side of despair.
“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).
And, frankly, we who would do all to escape pain and suffering by any means necessary (including suicide), are likely to miss the one incredible thing God would do in us and for us, were we to open our eyes to Him…God Himself walking with us through our times of trouble.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me” (Psalm 23:4).
The success, value and worth of your life does not equate what you can physically and/or mentally do or give but is the product of God’s love for you. Consequently, our greatest reward in life is not what we can accomplish or attain but is the Creator Himself Who gave His Son that we might have fellowship forever with Him.
“After this, the word of the LORD came to Abram… ‘Do not be afraid, Abram. I am… your very great reward” (Genesis 15:1).
Terri Schiavo’s life is precious to God. It is priceless and has infinite worth although our temporal perspective is finite and near-sighted. Who has the right to end it? Her husband? No. Her parents? No. The courts? No. Terri Schiavo? No. Not even Terri Schiavo. Only the Giver of life has the right to say, “That’s enough, child. Come on home.”
(Thom Mollohan has ministered in southern Ohio the past nine and a half years and is the pastor of Pathway Community Church. He and his wife are the parents of four children. He may be reached by email at pastorthom@pathwaygallipolis.com).
