Looks like it could be a while before we're able to restart our monthly Christian Music Hour at the nursing home. Singing, you know, can be a dangerous activity in the Age of COVID. But oh, I miss these lovely gatherings! It's easy enough to fire up and sing the old hymns, but there's nothing like a message from our dear friend and preacher Chris Carrillo to stir the heart and soul. So I've started listening to his messages again from our archives, in concert with my current Bible study -- and am so enjoying it that I thought I'd begin sharing them again with you, faithful readers!   

Here, to go with time spent in the wonderful book of 2 Kings, is a 2017 Chris Carrillo message on one of his favorite passages -- 2 Kings 7:3-9. I think you'll find it both convicting and encouraging, depending on where you are in your life and your walk with the Lord. Enjoy! 

I'm happy to report that we are now emerging slowly from the Covid 19 shutdown of our nursing homes, at least in southeastern Wisconsin. Which means we've been given the opportunity to re-start our weekly BibleTime discussions, as long as we're properly masked and socially distanced. 

So far, our group is small. The common denominator seems to be that most in this group have never studied the Bible and are unfamiliar with even its most basic and important teachings.
 
That’s why a recurrent message in our sessions is the gospel, and what the Bible says about becoming a heaven-bound Christian—quite a surprise for some of these lovely people.
 
But why should anyone believe what the Bible has to say about everlasting life, when there are so many translations of it today, and so many wildly varying theories being taught today? As one participant reported some time ago, although he and his contemporaries were raised in “the church,” they were taught that the Bible is nothing more than a collection of myths and fables, and so can be safely ignored.
 
Clearly, it’s critically important to persuade each member of our group that the Bible is divinely inspired and inerrant--and that we can therefore trust what it says about everlasting life.                                                                                                                                                                
Just one question: How?
 
I’ve given my testimony, but it rests largely on the scientific, historical and prophetic evidence that led me to the Lord. Perhaps it’s not surprising that this audience is less than captivated by what I have to say on these subjects. Irreducible complexity? The fallacious assumptions of radiometric dating? The prophetic fulfillments in Israel’s 1948 restoration? I guess these topics can be enough to make even youngsters nod off, given my less-than-thrilling leadership style.
 
But there are many other approaches that can be taken. For instance, to demonstrate how the Bible came into being and was preserved over the centuries—a history which in itself confirms its divine origins—we have in the past read from books like the late Ken Connolly’s fabulous The Indestructible Book. And to demonstrate the supernatural depth of God's love, we have examined beloved passages such as the 23rd Psalm using such guides as Phillip Keller's A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23, one of my very favorite books.   
 
At the same time, we’ve often explored specific issues of interest to these folks, such as suffering: How does the Bible explain it? I can’t think of an issue that doesn’t confirm the Lord's inspiration of the text, once that issue is viewed through the lens of the Bible.
 
In fact, it's been several years since we dove into the subject of suffering. And last week, one of our new members said he'd like to know what the Bible has to say about it. So that's where we'll be heading next time, examining some of the most comforting passages to be found in all of scripture.

I'd appreciate your prayers for these "students," and for nursing-home residents everywhere who are opening up the Word of God at long last, perhaps for the first time in their long lives.

When my mother was dying in May of 2000, I whispered in her ear, "I'll see you there, Mom." I had no idea what that meant, having spent the last three decades of my life as an atheist. But I determined at that moment to find out.

The funeral was to be held in my oldest sister's 19th-century Episcopal church, and this sister invited me to choose the hymns for the service. It was a little embarrassing. The only tune I remembered well from a childhood of mandatory church attendance was "Lead on, O King Eternal" (Ernest Shurtleff, 1887):

Lead on, O King eternal,
the day of march has come;
henceforth in fields of conquest
your tents will be our home.
Through days of preparation
your grace has made us strong;
and now, O King eternal,
we lift our battle song.
 
Lead on, O King eternal,
till sin's fierce war shall cease,
and holiness shall whisper
the sweet amen of peace.
For not with swords' loud clashing
or roll of stirring drums
with deeds of love and mercy
the heavenly kingdom comes.
 
Lead on, O King eternal;
we follow, not with fears,
for gladness breaks like morning
where'er your face appears.
Your cross is lifted o'er us,
we journey in its light;
the crown awaits the conquest;
lead on, O God of might. 
 
My sister very kindly inserted this hymn in the service and never said a word about the choice to me.

Later, when my desperate search for truth had led me into the Christian camp forevermore, I was embarrassed by my choice of hymn. It became clear that songs like "It Is Not Death To Die" and "Shall We Gather by the River" would have been more appropriate for a funeral. "Lead on, O King Eternal" was a little too militant for such an occasion, wasn't it? Of all the hymns we'd sung over and over and over again in the first 17 years of my life, why in the world had the Lord brought this one to mind in those sorrow-filled days following my mom's death? 

But then, driving home from church a couple Sundays ago, it struck me.

We had just wrapped up another Bible study class on the subject of spiritual warfare. Feeling pretty militant in light of that teaching, I began belting out "Lead on, O King Eternal" over the radio voice of J. Vernon McGee, my favorite old-time preacher.

And then it occurred to me: When I whispered "I'll see you there" in my mother's ear, the Lord knew what would happen next: that I would soon defect from Satan's kingdom and instead become one of His soldiers in today's great spiritual war. He took it from there, slowly dressing me in the whole armor of God -- girding my waist in truth, shoeing my feet with the gospel of peace, strapping on the breastplate of righteousness and the helmet of salvation, and equipping me with the shield of faith and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God (Ephesians 6). 

But it seems that His very first act of preparing me for the coming war was to arm me with a memorable theme song, in the form of this most battle-worthy old hymn. 

Where will you be living circa 2040 or 2050? 
 
Okay, so if you’re a born-again believer, you’re probably joyfully envisioning Heaven, or are at least adding “if the Lord tarries” to the question. And if you’re not, you may be counting on moving in with your children or enjoying a living arrangement like the Golden Girls’ of 1980s TV fame.  
 
But say none of these alternatives pans out, and you find yourself unable to live on your own. Will a decent nursing home be an option for you? 
 
The truth is that only God knows for sure. If our economy crashes and the Huns 
overrun our country, all bets are off. But let’s keep playing make believe and pretend that America will still be the Beautiful and we will still have some viable financial resources to work with. What’s likely to be available?

It turns out to be a disturbing question.

Consider this alarming statistic: “Approximately 70% of those currently 65 and over will need long-term care at some point,” according to the online information resource Carewindow, “for an average of 3 years.”

To get a sense of the potential magnitude of the need, take a look at a few statistics on the aging of America.

“The Census Bureau predicts that seniors will outnumber children by 2035,” U.S. News pointed out in a report entitled “Aging in America, in 5 Charts.”  In fact, seniors already account for anywhere from 12% to 20% of the total population of these United States, the report said. 

Who will support the aging population?

According to  the Mercatus Center at George Mason University, by 2034, “The best-case scenario is 2.3 workers paying for each retiree, and in the worst-case scenario that ratio is 2 workers per retiree.”

And the news gets worse, because those numbers don't take into consideration the astronomical costs of skilled nursing care.
 
So we are seeing a dramatic growth in our nation’s elderly population, and therefore in the number of people who will need skilled nursing care, at the same time that there will be fewer workers-per-elder to pay for this care.

In the meantime, as demand for nursing-home beds increases, at least in some states, the supply is dwindling.

From what I’ve been told by Julie Ellis, Ph.D. RN, the situation is not getting any rosier here in Wisconsin. A geriatric clinical nurse specialist, nurse educator and researcher, Dr. Ellis said that the number of Wisconsin residents 65 and older is expected to grow by 72% between 2015 and 2040. Yet between 2016 and 2018, 19  nursing homes closed in our state; and in 2019 alone, 17 more permanently shut their doors. Over the past eight years, she said, we've lost more than 6,600 nursing home beds due to closure and downsizing.
 
Why is this happening? Here are some of the forces at work in Wisconsin, according to Dr. Ellis:

• Our state’s low Medicaid reimbursement rates, which cause Wisconsin nursing homes to lose money on patients forced to rely on government funding
• A state initiative to encourage more people to choose in-home or assisted-living options over nursing-home care – an unworkable solution for many
• A dramatic workforce shortage in the long-term-care industry

Let’s connect the dots. A burgeoning elderly population, most of whom will need long-term care for an average of three years, and an alarming decline in nursing home beds: the outlook seems pretty dire to me.
 
Clearly, something has to change. Let’s hope it’s not what’s happening in Europe, with the very elderly being shipped off to countries where care can be delivered far less expensively – nations in eastern Europe, for instance, or countries like Thailand.   
 
What can you do to protect yourself over the long haul? God only knows. But at this point, maintaining some level of long-term-care insurance seems like a sensible option, if you can find something affordable. Otherwise, keep yourself as healthy as possible and pray that you and your loved ones will be among those who never need such care. 

Here is a lovely old poem I found in a book called Heart Throbs: The Old Scrapbook, published in 1905 by National Magazine. My mother was herself an ardent scrapbooker; in bulging looseleaf binders, she collected hundreds of poems, proverbs and essays that appealed to her for one reason or another. And so it's no surprise that she was also the owner of Heart Throbs. Perhaps your mother, or grandmother, or great-grandmother, owned this precious book, too.

Penned sometime after the turn of the last century, the introduction to this poem tells us that it's been around for at least a couple hundred years: "Many will be glad to see reprinted the following poem, which has been a classic for a century. No scrapbook (if such things exist nowadays) is complete without it.--Editor"

Heart Throbs provided no attribution, most likely because its author had been long forgotten. Maybe someday we will meet her in heaven, so we can thank her for the smile she has brought to hearts over the centuries, and even today. And maybe we'll meet her dear mother as well.

My Mother

Who fed me from her gentle breast
And hushed me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
My mother.

When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet lullaby
And rocked me that I should not cry?
My mother.

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping in my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye
And wept, for fear that I should die?
My mother.

Who ran to help me when I fell
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the part to make it well?
My mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray,
To love God's holy word and day,
And walk in wisdom's pleasant way?
My mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee
Who wast so very kind to me,--
My mother.

Oh no, the thought I cannot bear; 
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward thy care,
My mother.

When thou art feeble, old and gray,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My mother.

And when I see thee hang thy head,
'Twill be my turn to watch thy bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed,--
​My mother.

Everyone needs to hear the gospel, of course; there’s no other way to heaven, no matter what people may want to think. 
 
But the message is arguably most urgent for the elderly. After all, while no one knows exactly when he will die, this life's denouement is drawing near for the very aged.
 
That’s the premise undergirding my novel The Song of Sadie Sparrow  (FaithHappenings Publishers). It’s the story of three women whose lives intersect in a five-star nursing home called The Hickories—three women of different generations, backgrounds, sorrows, hopes and worldviews:

• Sadie Sparrow is a slightly befuddled 86-year-old who has been abandoned here by her oh-so-busy daughter. But she is settling in just fine, thanks to new friends, a loving staff, a heart full of favorite hymns, and a young Bible teacher who is determined to usher her through the narrow gate to eternal life. 

 

• Meg Vogel is a 58-year-old widow, freelance copywriter and committed atheist who has been hired to write resident biographies. She loves her job, except for all the dreary and offensive God-talk—precisely the nonsense that ruined the last months of what had been her perfect marriage. 

 

• Elise Chapelle, a single 32-year old and devout Christian, quit her teaching job to care for her beloved grandfather. But in spite of her efforts, his failing health has landed him in The Hickories. Not a likely place for Elise to find the ideal husband, but the Lord has been known to work in mysterious ways.

 
Editor Keely Boeving described the novel this way: “A beautifully written story of friendship set against the backdrop of life’s twilight years, The Song of Sadie Sparrow explores contrasting views of purpose and pardon, life and afterlife—and faith’s role in shaping those views, now and forevermore.”

And here's a sampling of what other readers have said since its release. 
 
It’s available in both ebook and paperback formats. I hope you'll order The Song of Sadie Sparrow today!

In 2012, a former palliative caregiver published The Top Five Regrets of the Dying: A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departing. The book is still selling extremely well, and not just from the New Age & Spirituality shelf. Perhaps the regrets most frequently expressed in her presence are somewhat universal; that might help explain the book's enduring popularity. Here they are: 
 
1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me. 

2. I wish I didn't work so hard.

3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

“Life is a choice,” the author has said. "It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly. Choose happiness.”
 
So that’s what it’s all about?

But what if she and her readers are missing the elephant in the living room?

What if regrets such as these change dramatically one minute after death?

Too bad we can’t ask the philosophers who contributed to this list. 

Oh, but wait: we do have the testimony of the rich man in Luke 16:19-31. His priorities certainly underwent a radical transformation after he'd left this life behind.
 
Wonder what would happen if someone made it a point to read Luke 16:19-31 to the dying before they "slipped the surly bonds of earth"? Might they be a little less interested in the relative happiness of their lives, and a little more interested in where they'll be spending eternity?