My Grandfather's Joy Through Health Struggles
What Jesus’s Coming to Earth Means for my Grandfather’s Preparing to Leave Earth
This article is part of the blog’s 2021 Advent series where Claritas writers are exploring the meaning of the incarnation in the weeks leading up to Christmas.
BY CHLOE CROPPER
For many Christians, Advent represents a time of preparation and waiting for Jesus Christ to come to Earth. For my grandfather, this Advent has been a time of preparation for when he will leave Earth to meet Jesus in heaven.
Throughout the past few months, I have watched my grandfather’s health deteriorate. I think he knows what is occurring, but he does not seem afraid. This Thanksgiving, as we all discussed things that we were grateful for, he in a rare burst of assertiveness announced: “I am thankful that although my mind and body are failing me now, I have hope in a Savior that will redeem me in eternal life.”
He smiled so widely after he said this, and the look of genuine joy on his face felt bittersweet. How difficult it is to bear the thought of losing a loved one, but how precious it is that a savior was born, a savior who transcends all earthly loss and pain.
My grandfather is the most gentle man I have ever met. Intelligent and empathetic, he has the gift of making everyone in a room feel seen. He is an introvert by nature, but will unabashedly share his faith with anyone he encounters. Growing up, I revered him more than just about anyone else in my life, and to this day I hate disappointing him. He is a man whose entire life has been oriented around the life and teachings of Jesus.
Therein lies the beauty of the Advent season—that Jesus’ coming to Earth means I can find a degree of comfort in my grandfather someday leaving Earth. Paul writes in Philippians that Jesus “emptied himself” when he, the God of the universe, was born in a horse’s feeding trough in a forgotten outpost of the Roman empire. [1] My grandfather has followed Jesus’ example in humility throughout his life.
My grandfather was a minister of music at a local church, and I remember him bringing us along to choir practices and orchestra rehearsals around Christmastime. My brothers and I were usually loud and disruptive, but he never raised his voice or lost his temper no matter how unruly we were. Rather, his method of discipline was to pull us onto his lap and open the Bible. He regaled us with stories of the shepherd’s pursuit of the lost sheep and the mercy of the father of the prodigal son. My grandfather taught me that Earth is only a temporary home, and it was in his church that I accepted Christ for the first time.
My grandfather is certainly not perfect, and as I got older my childhood idolization of him lost its luster. But, his perspective on the intersection between Christ and how we are meant to live our lives has changed the course of my own life. He lives in eager expectation of the moment he gets to meet his Savior face to face, a year-round embodiment of the posture of waiting that the Advent season represents.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have much to learn about the Advent season. In fact, I have much to learn about being a follower of Christ in general. Oftentimes, religion seems hopelessly nuanced; the divisions within Christianity feel like they are widening at a scary rate. However, what I have seen firsthand in my grandfather is the power of Advent—our hope is in the coming of the Messiah. It is because of this hope that my grandfather is able to love us so patiently and can face the end of his days with a joy that is both supernatural and contagious.
SOURCES
Philippians 2:7 ESV