"Death is the mind being released from the body."
Death is not something most of us want to talk about. I think it's because not many of us truly understand what it is. Long story short: life is energy, so you can't kill it. So where does it go once the body expires? Regardless of your religious experience or understanding, the energy of the body begins in the mind and ends in the spirit. Once you are totally free of the physical body, the mind moves on to the next level. The goal is for us to transcend from human to spirit beings. That's the only way you'll be able to survive the spirit realm. When you're totally free of--mentally detached from-- the natural realm, your spirit moves into a place of rest until He calls you up. Even if you're religious. I know that 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 tells us that those who are sleeping in their graves will be taken up before those of us who are alive and still on earth, but you have to understand what "sleeping" is. Sleep is what happens for those who have totally and completely fulfilled their work in this realm. They enter into a place of rest because our work ends in the conversion from mind to spirit (transcendence), which means that you understand the things of God(things discerned by the Holy Spirit) and are, therefore, no longer holding on to the things that make sense here on earth (human logic). I don't want to get too deep into a metaphysical lesson on this right now, but for those of you who want more understanding, read Hebrews 4:1-11, paying close attention to verse 10. Also read 1 Corinthians 1:18-29 for more info on the difference between human logic and spiritual wisdom.
When the physical body expires, the mind, in whatever form it's in, is set free from it. Think of the mindset of someone you love or loved who is/was suffering. In suffering, the pain effects the mind more than the body. Pain is the brain's way of letting the body know that something is wrong. It's hard for us to let go when someone we know is dying, but remember this: the mind of the person suffering is not going to be the same. It is changing. The person you want to hold on to will not be the same person coming out of this as he/she was going into it--regardless of the outcome. The pain, the anguish, the fear, the stress, the disease, etc., is causing your loved one to become someone different. In that moment, depending on the situation, he/she has to decide whether or not they want to go on in that state. For many of our loved ones, the answer is a resounding "no". We don't understand it because we are not experiencing, mentally, emotionally or physically, what our loved one is truly feeling. As tragic as it seems, when it comes to situations like this, most of us are selfish. We want the loved one to stay here because it will be better for us! We don't want to miss him/her; we can't imagine life without him/her. But ask yourself this: How much do you want him/her to suffer for your happiness? Then ask yourself if you will really be happy with your loved one in an altered capacity.
For many, the thought of being in a diminished state is way too much. For the elderly, for example, the idea of living with dementia and being a "burden" to their loved ones is not very appealing. I have to share a personal story here. My mother knew her mental capacity was lessening after she'd had a stroke, heart surgery and complications thereof. Toward the end, as she would attempt to tell us something, she had begun repeating her sentences as if some part of her brain was a scratched recording. She wouldn't always remember that she'd said the same thing again and again in the same conversation, but when she would realize it (usually by the look on our faces or the silence over the phone), the embarrassment she felt would consume her. You see, after her first major stroke, she boasted often of having had her mind in tact. She bragged happily about having known all of her children's and grandchildren's birthdays, and the miracle of having been able to recite them from her hospital bed immediately upon regaining consciousness. That's what made her feel whole, because the stroke left her unable to use one of her hands properly and her capacity to walk had been limited. "As long as I have my mind, I'm fine," she'd say.
In 1978, on exactly the same day and month of the year, her mother died in a local hospital, due to what she always believed was the incompetence of the hospital personnel. From that day forward, she swore she would never be treated in that particular hospital for anything. Well, after having lived in the house with her for four years after her health declined, I took a vacation out of state. I called and talked to her two days before I got back to let her know that I was on my way (it was a two day drive). I learned the next day that she had been taken to the hospital, but I wasn't stressed because I was half way to her home. One hour after I crossed the home state line, I learned that she'd passed! I was shocked, but not as shocked as I was when I heard she'd had my dad drive her to the local hospital she swore to never be seen at. Two hours from my destination, I knew I had to see her for myself. I drove straight in to the hospital. When I saw her lifeless body, the look on her face confirmed what I already knew. When I got to her house and looked at her pill boxes, I was that much more convinced. She was done. She didn't want to live with diminished mental capacity, and I can't say that I blame her. Her mind was all she felt she had left, and she didn't want to lose it. Now, I'm not saying she killed herself. I'm merely saying she decided not to prolong the inevitable. She got tired of taking all of the medications (up to 14 pills a day) which were barely sustaining her. She had diabetes, which had progressed from her having to take three to four small pills a day to her requiring insulin injections. Her blood pressure was amazingly high and after the stroke, every time she was hospitalized, it was mainly to get it under control. Her doctor kept trying different combinations of drugs/dosages that weren't really doing the trick. In the doctor's frustration one day, she pulled me aside and nastily told me that it didn't matter what she prescribed or what she did, it was only a matter of time because my mom was "going to die anyway" (yea, it was cold, but it was the truth). My mother knew that, but she had to be mentally ready to go. And when she was, she did. She stubbornly fought that doctor tooth and nail until she realized her mind was going; then, it was a wrap. She wasn't going to fight that one. She had always had a thing about us being in control of our own minds. That was how she steered me clear of drugs and alcohol. She said, "you don't want anyone else to have to tell you what you did the night before". Worked for me. She was bullheaded and was never going to let anyone influence her decisions about anything. Her greatest asset was her psychological strength. (It was also a problematic in other areas, but that's a different blog!)
Her mind needed to be released from that body because it was cracking under the pressure. She needed to go in order to be remembered for who she was; not who she was becoming. Sometimes you have to let go because, whether you realize it or not, it's best for everyone involved--especially the one suffering. It's easy for you to want your loved one to hold on, but is that what you'd do if given the choice? Don't worry; God is not going to let any of us go before we need to. If He wants you to stay, you won't even think to let go, and believe it or not, He will, in some cases, give you the choice (2 Kings 20:1-19). But that's between the one who is sick and Him; loved ones have no say in it.
Take the time today to understand beyond your selfish desire for a loved one who has passed or is passing to stay and suffer. Usually, it's really not about YOU. Give your loved one permission to do what he and God both know is best for them. Instead of holding on, honor the choice. No one wants to die a slow, grueling, painful death. Put yourself in their shoes. It will make the passing less stressful for you and for them. Let them rest. They may need it more than you think.
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