Goodbye Is Not the End

By Timothy W. Tron

Burke County

[If possible, listen to “The Commission” by CAIN as you read this story, and you may be even more abundantly blessed.]

The crispness of the early spring morning seemed to do nothing to stop the flood of melancholy that washed over my being as I made up the mountain this morning. On the radio, CAIN softly sang the haunting but poetic melody, painting the picture of Christ’s final words to his disciples as the treasure he intended. Outside the warmth of the vehicle, the beautiful blossoms of life danced joyfully in the eyes of the beholder. Perhaps the adoration of knowing the love of the Father enveloped my thoughts as the two intertwined in the embrace of beauty and purposeful reflection.

Some of us are here by the slimmest of margins – by the merest of chance, an encounter however unlikely became the spark of life that created our existence. Or perchance the likelihood you are a survivor, having stood at the doorstep of death, facing the hereafter, finding yourself pulled back into this world, being told, “It’s not your time.” Perhaps your life’s story includes both extremes. From birth to death, we are all given the opportunity to participate in something greater than ourselves if we only awaken to this surreal reality. Even when we think we’ve found the answer to his grand design, we still hesitate, questioning the call. In our moments of doubt, He whispers in our ears, “You have a purpose, and I have a plan.”

Yet, as many of you already know, it can all be over in the blink of an eye. We are only a heartbeat away from eternity. Every new day is a gift. So, with each new day, we must live as if it is our last before it’s gone. Allowing the world to dictate our path only leads to heartache and despair. The proverbial plate is never empty. So often, students’ voices mimic the traditional trajectory of academia, presupposing their lives will be built around their careers after graduation. Focused on that path, they are dissuaded from pursuing faith development, only to find their lives bottom out when their mid-life crisis becomes the new reality. Those secular goals realized or not, become their identity. If it fails, in whatever regard, their life is over – the identity vanished and often, their purpose for living. But if we make His plan ours, we suddenly realize that we live not for ourselves, but for the sake of others. Suddenly, we see the fields are white, ready to harvest.

Yes, there’s much to do here before we leave.

We wrote on the small dry-erase board that we propped up on our table at the campus dining hall the other night, “What does ‘faith’ mean to you?” Our AppState Ratio Christi apologetics leadership team was dining together after our weekly meeting. A young lady, Keira, stopped by and asked what we meant by that. After we explained our question, she went on to say that her mother was a Christian, but her father was an Atheist, and that she wasn’t raised to believe in anything. My heart broke as I listened to her story. It’s not the first time we’ve heard it. The same saga plays out quite often, children raised in families with unequally spiritually yoked parents, divided in faith, choosing not to impart upon their children their beliefs, but rather, allowing them to figure it out on their own. Finding a relationship with God when one doesn’t know where to start can be bewildering, if not totally confusing. Left feeling abandoned, they turn to whatever low-hanging fruit they can reach, and often, the world is too eager to supply those needs, regardless of their detrimental effects.

Imagine you learned of a secret island off the coast of the country where you lived that contained a healing power. And suppose you had a child who needed this cure. So, instead of taking her there yourself, you put her into a tiny boat and shoved her off, waving goodbye as you wished her well in finding the miracle island that would heal her of her illness. You leave the work up to the whims of current, wind, and tide to enable her to reach that precious destination, when in fact, you don’t honestly know where it is either, since you’ve never researched it yourself. With this in mind, we can better comprehend how these isolated students navigate the world.

The more we talked to Keira, the more she wanted to know more, saying that it was hard for her to believe, but she wanted to try to understand. As we talked, she seemed to become more and more intrigued and began to open up more about her life. She told us of her passion for climbing and hoped to own her own rock climbing center someday. Something told me to imbue into her the knowledge that God had given her a unique purpose in life, and that her gift of climbing was something that she could use to share the gospel. Encouraged, she said she would love to share the gospel with her students in her own center. We shared contact information, gave her our club’s information, and parted ways. My prayer was that our goodbye was not the end.

Go tell the world about me, whispered the voice in our ears.

Through one of the other campus ministries I work with, I met Patrick, another college student on fire for Christ. One night, he gave his testimony as part of the Ignite large group presentation. He shared with us how he had been addicted to drugs, alcohol, and porn. He had sunk so low that he was literally stealing from his own family before he came to the realization that if he continued down that path, he would soon die. Pleading with his mother to commit him to the hospital, he began to comprehend the depths of the darkness that had taken control of his life. By the sheer Grace of God, he took on a dare from a friend to attend a church service one night. There, he heard how God could wash away his sins and give him the strength to overcome the darkness that seemed to control his life. It was the turning point in his life, and soon afterward, he committed his life to Christ. Now, we see a young man seeking to tell the world about Jesus every chance. He was once dead, but now he lives.

He continued to whisper in our ears, “Don’t forget the things I taught you. I conquered death and I hold the keys. Where I go you will go too someday. But there’s much to do, here before you leave.”

A cold March wind blew across the brown, unimpressive dormant fields of southern Indiana. It was as if the landscape was the mirror image of our soul, for we were gathered to lay my father, John, to rest. Our relationship wasn’t one of those picturesque stories that make for blissful Hallmark movies. From drinking to womanizing, he had been quite the lively character in life, often going along with our family’s greater attention to faith, but never actively participating for fear of losing his freedom. It wasn’t until a couple of years before the day for which we were gathered that he was afforded the opportunity to meet death face-to-face. Due to a medical emergency, he died and was revived. Like anyone who had returned to the living from the dead, they all have a story to tell. John was no exception. His return to the living instilled in him the desire to share his testimony and how death had opened his eyes. “I once was dead, but now I live,” he would tell congregation after congregation. His testimony allowed him to share the gospel with anyone, which he joyfully did until the very end. The words from CAIN’s song I mentioned at the start of the article reminded me of what he would often say during those last two years, “There’s much to do before I leave.”

Just a few days before that cold, blustery day in March, we had gathered at the hospital to say our final goodbyes. We were afforded one last chance to speak to the man whose time had finally run out. There, standing on the abyss of death, I knew it might be the last time to speak to him on this side of eternity. Knowing full well how many times in life we had made tearful goodbyes commonplace, as he would drop me off after another weekend visitation, so too was this day to be one last farewell. Yet, God whispered in my ear once more, and as I leaned over his hospital bed to say my last goodbye, “I’ll make you this promise: if you get there before I do, meet me at the Eastern Gate. Goodbye is not the end.” I kissed his cheek and turned, vowing not to look back. It wasn’t the image I wanted to remember for the rest of my life. No, there were too many other memories for that.

Once more, He whispered in my ear, “Go tell them about me. I’ve got to go, for a little while. But goodbye is not the end.”

The morning of the funeral, I visited the graveyard where his body would join the others: Grandpa, Grandma, cousin Michael, and Uncle Bill. There, I experienced something that is another story in and of itself. Suffice it to say, when God speaks, be ready to listen. From there, my footsteps returned to the hotel common area where my sister was waiting. She was worried about me, having learned of my visit to the graveyard. Walking in, after she gently admonished me for making her worry, she said, “I was thinking of John 14 this morning.”

We both began quoting, “Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. And whither your go ye know, and the way ye know.”

“Yes,” I said, “he may be gone, but goodbye is not the end. Now, it’s up to us to go and tell the world about Him.”

Thanks be to God.

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Timothy W. Tron lives in Collettsville, NC. with his family. He is currently the Systems Administrator for the Computer Science Department at App. State. Timothy is the former Director of the Trail of Faith in Valdese, where he still volunteers and helps with tours. He is the author of a new Christian series, “Children of the Light”, with the first book being, “Bruecke to Heaven”, revised as “Bridge to Heaven”, and his recent book, being the second, “The Light in the Darkness”. He is an active blogger, artist, and musician. Timothy also has a BSEE from UF, and is a Lay Speaker. He is currently acting as the Faculty/Staff Liaison for the Ratio Christi campus ministry at App. State. He can be reached at [email protected]  You can visit his website at //www.timothywtron.com/ or see more of his writings HERE

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