It's bad enough that there are people who support assisted suicide. As sick as that is, at least it's supposedly voluntary. Far more troubling are those who think it'd be a great idea to put old people "to sleep" in order to reduce healthcare costs.

Think it couldn't happen here? Think again: It turns out that many Americans are perfectly willing to play God, and have been for some time. A 2017 Gallup poll, for instance, found overwhelming support for euthanasia for "terminally ill" patients--shockingly, even among church-goers. 

It really makes you wonder how far we can be from the end of time. As the apostle Paul wrote in 1 Timothy 4:1-2, "Now the Spirit expressly says that in latter times some will depart from the faith, giving heed to deceiving spirits and doctrines of demons, speaking lies in hypocrisy, having their own conscience seared with a hot iron..."

In the meantime, fellow seniors, look out! Way too many people figure it's our duty to die just as soon as we become a drain on the system. Even worse, many of them seem to be happy to help us do it.  

For those of us who are born-again Christians, that's not such terrible news. After all, "to be absent from the body" is "to be present with the Lord" (2 Corinthians 5:8). But not so for the rest of the world. And those who go to their deaths supporting murder of the elderly and infirm may find themselves repenting of it for all eternity.

I recently re-watched the 1942 melodrama “In This Our Life,” the story of an abominably selfish and miserable young woman named Stanley (Bette Davis). Stanley remained troubled to the bitter end of the movie, in spite of the gentle intervention of her wise father. “In my day,” he commented in the midst of one of her tantrums, “we didn’t talk much about happiness. If it came, we were grateful for it. But we were brought up in the belief that there were other things more important – old fogy notions such as duty and personal responsibility.”
 
It wasn’t the first time such apparently obsolete wisdom was delivered in movies of that era. Think of Ashley Wilkes agreeing with Scarlett O’Hara that there was nothing tying him to his wife – “nothing but honor,” he said. (“Gone with the Wind,” 1939). Alas, virtues like these were routinely rejected by the heroines of such stories, and those who expressed them risked being portrayed as weak-minded and pitiable.

All of which paved the way for our modern ideas about what matters in this life.
 
In a word: me. It’s all about me. I am all that matters.
 
This notion came into its own in the 1960s, becoming the battle cry of my generation and the underlying MO of those that followed in our wake.
 
Our culture has encouraged this form of Nouveau Narcissism from the start, making it tough to resist. Consider our music, for instance. I could name a number of pertinent titles, but one of the most obvious contributors was Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All.” Check out the chorus:
 
I found the greatest love of all
Inside of me.
The greatest love of all
Is easy to achieve
Learning to love yourself
It is the greatest love of all.
 
As if we needed advice on how to love ourselves! As the wisest man who ever lived proclaimed in Ecclesiastes 1:9, “There’s nothing new under the sun.” And, in fact, self-love permeates the Bible’s accounts of man’s ancient rebellion against his Creator.
 
Modern movie-makers and songwriters have simply borrowed the same old themes, and we’ve embraced them eagerly in pursuing the same broad way to destruction. Think of “Is That All There Is?”, 1969’s musical answer to “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die (Isaiah 22:13). Or consider Sinatra’s “My Way,” a first-person version of “Everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (Judges 17:6, e.g.).  
 
What’s really interesting is that all of this adds up to the fulfillment of yet another Bible prophecy. In 2 Timothy 3, the apostle Paul had this to say about our times:
 
“But know this, that in the last days perilous times will come: For men will be lovers of themselves ...”
 
The good news is that there is an escape from the “all about me” path. All it takes is trust in Christ and an act of God. To learn more, consult the Bible. And to see how this wisdom plays out in real-life human beings, why not visit some old folks in the nearest nursing home? You'll probably have to mask up for now, but it will be well worth your while.  

Are you a young adult hoping to break into journalism or copywriting or book publishing? Or an older retiree whose bucket list includes joining the ranks of published authors? Here’s a great way to pursue either goal: sign up to be a volunteer biographer for the elderly.
 
You don’t have to be Ernest Hemingway to write someone's life story. Once you've found the right subject, you simply need to ask lots of questions, take good notes, and then compose brief synopses of his or her life.
 
You’ll be amazed at how much you will learn in every interview. And what a blessing you will be to your subjects!
 
Here’s how the 86-year-old heroine of The Song of Sadie Sparrow felt in the wake of her first interview with Activities Assistant Meg, official biographer of a fictional nursing home called The Hickories:

• “It was really no big deal, girls,” she told her friends, borrowing one of daughter Dana’s favorite phrases. “No big deal at all.”
•                                     
• But it was a big deal, and Sadie knew it. Her new friends had given her a lift, no question about that. But she knew she couldn’t count on any of them long-term; old people die and their young loved ones disappear forever, even after promising to visit you soon. She’d already been here long enough to see it happen more than once. But Meg’s biography-in-progress was different. It had begun changing her attitude from the moment they’d scheduled this first interview, especially once Meg had given her the interview questions.
•                                       
• It was amazing, really. It had always been Sadie’s policy to advise complainers to count their blessings. Yet she’d apparently not done a good job of counting her own, as depressed as she’d felt since moving in to The Hickories. But when she started pondering the questions that Meg planned to pose—questions about her late husband Ed and their life together, about Dana and her family, about Sadie’s best memories and even the worst—it was as if the Lord were playing a movie about her life. And even if it wasn’t a magnificent movie, populated by beautiful people, places, and things, it starred people who loved each other, living with all their needs met in a humble but well-kept house.
•                                       
• It had been, she realized, a happy story about a solid American family living out solid American values. So what if there hadn’t been more children? And so what if it wasn’t ending quite the way she’d envisioned, living with Dana’s family as a beloved grandma? Short of that idyllic (and quite possibly romanticized) scenario, you really couldn’t beat The Hickories as a place to spend your last days.


• --The Song of Sadie Sparrow, pages 81-82

 
As biographer to the elderly, you can help them gain all-important perspective on their lives and the joys they’ve experienced over the decades – and perhaps see their hearts overflow with gratitude as they reflect on the blessings they’ve enjoyed.
 
To make the process even more fun, you can ask your subjects to provide a few of their favorite snapshots to illustrate their life stories. As long as you have access to a scanner, you’ll be able to insert them easily into the final files.  Whether that means simple Word documents or multi-page booklets complete with gripping titles and cover art, you’ll be creating pieces that your subjects’ families will treasure for many years to come.
 
In fact, these biographies would make great birthday or Christmas gifts for your subjects to give to their family and friends – all at no cost, an important consideration for anyone living on a fixed income.

What's more, if you're looking to make a career out of writing, this is a terrific way to jump-start your portfolio, which can be key to landing your first position. 
 
Intrigued? Why not start searching for a good subject soon--perhaps someone in your own family, or a friend's? If that's a dead end, consider calling a local nursing-home Activities Director to explore the possibilities?

Sadly, some elderly people spend their last days waiting for what they think is the worst. They’ve lost their parents, spouses, siblings, and friends, and now they are just waiting for their own deaths – too often with dread.

The good news is we can occasionally help.

For instance, the problem is sometimes (and increasingly) plain old unbelief.

“I don’t buy any of that heaven stuff anymore,” one aged lady told me, with great sadness, some years ago. “When we die, we cease to exist and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

She is a reader, so I gave her a copy of Heaven Without Her and she promised to read it. It’s my prayer, of course, that she will be pointed towards the narrow gate (Matthew 7) by the evidence it presents for the truth of Christianity -- or at least come to see that eternity is worthy of both consideration and investigation. I may never know, however; we only met in passing.

Sometimes end-of-life fears are the result of unbiblical theology.

Many years ago, I found a 100-year-old woman sobbing in her room. “I’m afraid of dying,” she confessed through her tears. “I’m so afraid of Purgatory!” I gently showed her from scripture that if she repented and trusted in Christ, she could count on being “absent from the body, present with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5). Did these truths relieve her fears? It seemed so at the time; but she suffered a massive stroke and died soon after our discussion, so I won’t know until I get There myself.

Occasionally even the faith-filled elderly fear death -- not its reality but its mechanics, in particular the prospect of pain.

Fortunately, we really don’t have to deal with overwhelming pain anymore, thanks to modern pharmaceuticals. In two decades as a nursing-home volunteer, I saw only three residents suffer greatly, and in two of those cases it was because they refused medication to relieve it.

But even when that relief is incomplete, it’s possible for the dying to rest in the knowledge that God is at work in and through them, and that eternal bliss is just beyond the horizon. 

I’ve seen this attitude time and time again in Spirit-filled Christians. What a blessing and encouragement it is to spend time with those who are waiting patiently not for the other shoe to drop, but for joy forevermore!

For many reasons -- from difficult working conditions to low wages, the inevitable result of inadequate Medicaid reimbursements -- most nursing homes are understaffed these days. And there's doesn't seem to be much hope of improvement in sight.

If you're involved with a nursing home in any way, how can you help change the situation? Perhaps it would help in the long run to contact your legislators and make this issue a priority in your future voting decisions.

But for now, you can help prevent the loss of more employees, from nurses to CNAs, by being patient and understanding, and encouraging residents and family members to be, too.

To give you some insight into exactly what nursing-home caregivers are facing each and every day, here is a brilliant, anonymous essay posted on Facebook by Cindy Shepard, and reproduced here with her permission. Please give these words careful consideration before complaining to or about anyone involved in direct care-giving; I know I will.

Imagine this.......

You walk onto the floor and you have 25 patients. 25 humans you are responsible for, 25 humans you will have to know everything about. When they eat, if they eat, how much they pee, what color it is, when their last bowel movement was, what color, shape, and consistency it was, what their labs look like, their cognitive status, if they have wounds, what meds are due, what are their vitals.

You get to the floor and get report on these 25 people. All not well, some with orders that need completing. One has bladder scans every 6 hours and has to be cathed if they are over a certain limit; one is on an IV infusion every 6 hours and frequent monitoring. 5 ARE aggressive and need to be kept away from others. At least one had a fall requiring neuro checks every hour; one is dying with no family at their side.

Then imagine being short staffed.

Then imagine the family calling wanting a check up on their family members and complaining when you can’t get on the phone right now. Imagine that you are in the middle of cleaning up a patient, alone, when the family calls and you can't stop to take the call but will call them as soon as you're done. Imagine your manager reprimanding you for not taking the call as the family is angry and complaining.

Then imagine 6 of those 25 calling out for pain meds every 2 hours. Some of it is pain seeking, some of it is actual pain from the cancer or other causes. Then the one that is dying needs pain meds for comfort every hour and just wants someone at their bedside.

Oh, and don't forget the high fall risk patients that you have circled around your station so you can keep an eye on them.

Then imagine doing everything you can for all these humans you are responsible for and getting cursed out, talked down to, criticized for not being “fast enough,” asked “where were you?” and told “I’ve been on the light for 20 minutes?!”

NOW imagine also not having a enough CNA’s - the backbone of the skilled nursing system! So now, with all of that, you’re also TRYING to help respond to call lights, bathroom calls, changing patients, turning patients every 2 hours, getting water, getting snacks, emptying catheters, measuring intake and output, bathing, and more changing. Imagine a patient getting upset because you didn't bring them coffee and snacks quick enough and giving meds for comfort to your dying patient.

And now… you have a new admit coming to the floor with a wound vac, needing pain meds that you don't have. Another human, another life to take care of.

Now imagine administration always complaining you never do enough, dressings aren’t changed on time; tubing isn’t labeled correctly; rooms are messy. Charting isn’t done, write ups are threatened.

This is Nursing.

This is Why we are burned out.

This is Why we are short staffed.

This is Why Nurses and CNA’s are leaving the profession.

Too often, nursing homes are thought of as a despised final stop before death. Which is really sad, because they can be centers of heartwarming fellowship and welcome spiritual growth for those who need a certain level of care -- more care than can be summoned in assisted living, for instance, and more than can be found in "aging in place" schemes, some of which can lead to extreme isolation.

Giving readers a glimpse of this truth was one of my main reasons for writing the novel The Song of Sadie Sparrow; here's a short passage illustrating the affectionate fellowship that can be found in such living arrangements. It's my prayer that the best of these homes will still be available by the time my generation needs them -- and yours.

 
“It’s too bad you didn’t go to Bible study,” Sadie said to her tablemates after the teacher had left.

“He limps,” said Gladys. “Did you know that? Why does he limp?”

“I don’t know,” Sadie said, “and frankly I hadn’t noticed. What difference does it make?”

“I already know all about the Bible,” Catherine said. “I just wish someone would study Mrs. Eddy’s writings with me.”

“How about that practitioner of yours?” Gladys was looking down her substantial nose at Catherine, not really very interested in ultimate truth herself, but apparently sure that Catherine’s idea of it was wrong. “You’re always sending her money. How come she never comes to see you if she’s so great?”

Catherine blinked hard and stared at her coffee.

“It was very interesting,” Sadie said. “He went over the history of the Bible—it’s just fascinating.”

“How many were there, dear?” Eva asked.

“Just me. I guess I have my own personal tutor, unless someone else decides to take the plunge.”

“Oh oh,” Gladys teased. “Looks like Sadie’s got herself a young man.”

They all laughed gaily. Laughter was becoming a habit for Sadie, it seemed, and it made her very happy.

From The Song of Sadie Sparrow, pages 89-90.

For some reason, during a recent sleepless night, I couldn't stop thinking about all the dementia "sufferers" I've known as a 21-year nursing-home volunteer. I put "sufferers" in quotes, because many of them have been perfectly peaceful, enjoying the moment while contentedly forgetting more and more of their pasts, until they're left with nothing but memories of childhood.

And indeed these dear people become like little children--often, delightful little children. It's really precious to have a sweet little old lady tell you excitedly that mamma would be there soon to pick her up, or to have a kind old man inform you that he will be singing in the children's choir at church on Sunday.  

My mind raced happily on, tumbling over dozens of such smile-worthy flashbacks. And then it occurred to me: These people had lost most of their memories to dementia. But what are we in this life, if not the sum total of our memories? Does this mean that dementia patients have lost their very identities? 

But of course, that wouldn't be the case for those who are Christian, would it? Because Christians do have identities--indestructible, eternal identities in Christ. What's more, like little children, these dementia patients have nothing to bring to the salvation table, no thoughts of being good people deserving of anything, least of all heaven. 

There was that thought again: like little children. And what did Jesus say in Matthew 18? "He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: 'Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.'"

So perhaps Christian dementia patients are most blessed of all--doing nothing but trusting and enjoying the moment in this life, and then heading into eternity with hearts that are uniquely pleasing to the Lord. And perhaps that means they will be counted among Jesus' most beloved forevermore. 

I've thought for a long time that our pitying view of sweet and happy dementia patients is all wrong. Maybe this explains it.