Every year Heartland Hospice conducts a “Why” campaign. Material is produced. Education is provided. Buttons with the question, “Ask me about my Why” are worn. Personal testimonies that led to service in the hospice profession are encouraged. Out of those stories a common theme emerges. A nurse or nurses’ aid often have cared for a loved one at life’s end like a parent or grandparent. So moved by their experience, they devote themselves to caring for others traveling on that part of life’s journey.
My own journey into hospice chaplaincy had no profound “why” moment, as I never intended to segue from the pulpit to another ministry. At least not till I was seeking a post-retirement ministry. But life shifts, and with the stress of church work in the context of political toxicity exploited by navigating through COVID, the door on fulltime pulpit preaching closed. And as I was piloting uncharted waters, a friend sent me a link to Heartland Hospice who was looking to add another chaplain to their team. Within a couple of weeks of redesigning a resume, posting it on the link, and interviewing, I found a new, and hopefully final, profession. Hospice Chaplain.
Within a couple of years of making visits, phone calls, and sitting with families while loved ones passed, my “Why” began to materialize. Though not as explicit as others, the purpose was discovered through the interaction with those facing end of life realities. Having the privilege of sharing such intimacy, I found purpose in walking with the patients and families as we made this final journey together, ensuring along the way that God’s comforting presence is felt. Sometimes that journey has been filled with more joy than sorrow, while other times the sorrow overwhelms the joy. Either way, providing spiritual support through the journey has solidified my purpose for hospice ministry. My “Why,” and the motivation to show up for work every day, is to act as a fellow companion with a patient or family offering hope as they face their end-of-life journey.
Paul’s conversion story played a significant role in his “Why.” While on the road to Damascus, where he was seeking to arrest followers of Jesus, he was confronted by the one whom he was persecuting. Experiencing the resurrected Christ (Act. 9:4), he pivoted from being the greatest threat to the Church to being its greatest advocate. While the encounter began to shape his character, it was not the only source of motivation for his ministry. Something else was in play.
As Paul was fleshing out the temporal and frailty of life in 2 Corinthians 5, and how our goal in life is to please God, he offers a sobering reminder for the deeper “Why” in his ministry. At one point in the future, he says all of us will assemble before the throne room of Jesus where we will appear before his judgment seat (5:10). The “judgment seat” is a raised platform where the throne of a king is positioned. If standing before a king is not intimidating enough, towering above his subjects only creates more fear and trepidation. And that is intentional.
The story is told of a professor who held an open-door policy for students to challenge the grades he assigned. The catch was when they entered his office, he offered to let them sit on a soft cushioned couch. While they sank in the sofa, he towered over them while leaning against his desk. It was a gentle power move which intimidated his students who often backed down from any complaint they had about his grading.
Cile and I once had a similar experience. In a “meet-and-greet” Sunday afternoon where I was interviewing at a church, a couple came to spend time with us. He was one of the deacons, and out of the goodness of his heart, he offered us the better seating. We sat on a soft comfortable couch. And it was comfortable. We spent over an hour sharing dreams of that church and the potential it had. Overall, the visit was enjoyable, except for one small detail. He was a big man, and whoever sat on the couch sunk in the cushions. We spent the time looking up to a man who, though was a gentle giant, his presence overwhelmed us. Yea, we felt intimated. We laughed about it later, but we were not laughing at that moment.
If we can be intimidated so easily by a big man on a chair, or a professor in his office, how much more intimidating is it for a King, or in this case the King, to position himself on a throne built on elevated steps. In his entire majesty, he looks down on those brought before him to grant approval or disapproval. Yes, very intimating moment indeed.
Within this judgment seat imagery, Paul includes two phrases that are easily missed but carry heavy weight. First, while the apostle writes to the church, he is inclusive of who will stand before the judgment seat. “All must appear,” he says. “All” does not divide groups into believers or non-believers, saved and unsaved, or faithful and unfaithful. The ease to point fingers by saying “They will be held accountable” but “we won’t be” fails to comprehend the message of 2 Corinthians. By now, enough of the pot has been stirred in that church, the divisiveness and attacks against Paul, that he must remind them that no one is exempt from the judgment seat. Not even himself.
Secondly, at the judgement seat, we will receive what we rightly deserve. Accountability will be upheld. No favoritism. No loopholes. No more appeals. No chance to corrupt the judge. Talking our way out of a hole or threatening retaliation will be useless. Instead, we will be righteously adjudicated. God will look over our lives and evaluate what we have done, the good and the bad. By focusing on what we have done, Paul bypasses thoughts or motives. Here, God is not interested in our theology or our doctrine but driven by our actions possibly born out of our theology and doctrine.
The good that we do will be applauded. Nothing is more satisfying than the opportunity of seeing a warm smile break across God’s face, while hearing him refer to us as his “good and faithful servant” (Mt. 25:21). Knowing God loves the good we do drives us to continue doing “more good,” which brings honor to him. On the other hand, facing God, while he outlines all the “bad” we’ve done, is a fearful moment of trepidation.
At this point the ease of pivoting to a fearful exploration of hell might be made without resistance. It’s not, but some might make that shift. Many often do as their message is seeded by fear mongering. Far too common to find congregants being motivated in discipleship that has been driven more by fear than by faith. Fear of the culture. Fear of our neighbors. Fear of other denominations. Fear of the government. Fear of not following every commandment God listed. Fear that one will miss out on salvation because, though they clicked “I agree,” they failed to actually read the “Terms and Conditions” for salvation. The irony is that fear, instead of faith, tends to permeate throughout the messaging of those claiming faith.
The biggest use of fear is the image of the fires of hell as an eternity of never-ending torturous punishment, which hovers over any discussion of Judgment Day. Turning up the thermostat is almost a prerequisite to preaching, and preachers seem to thrive on the heat. Fear does bring positive results, and at best, they are short lived. The long-term effects are detrimental to spiritual health. Using fear has proven to be a poor tool of motivation, carrying with it unwanted guilt and shame. Dangling people over the flames of hell only reinforces the angry God image instead of one who is compassionate and forgiving. Or for 2 Corinthians, a God of all comfort (1:3). At times it almost feels like the saved celebrate the destiny of the unsaved. Almost.
In both 1 & 2 Corinthians Paul is silent on hell or eternal punishment. Of all the churches known for their dysfunction and rebellion, the church in Corinth leads the way. If any church needed a thorough exploration of hell to get them back on the right path, it was Corinth. Yet, Paul neither speaks of hell nor hangs their eternal destiny over them.* Never. Likely, Paul held such an assurance with God and salvation that driven by fear of any kind was beyond his comprehension.
What happens after meeting Jesus at the judgment seat is left unanswered. With the focus now unshackled from the fearful eternal destiny tied to heaven or hell, it’s on the moment of reckoning. We will come face to face with God who will either be pleased or not pleased with what we have done in our lives. For Paul, at least in this passage, that is the farthest he will surmise. He will go to the judgment seat and go no further.
While fear is not Paul’s “Why,” others seem driven by it. Instead, Paul’s “Why” is that he will stand before Jesus to report on all the good and bad he has done, and so will we. What separates Paul is his faith as he anticipates a time when God will praise him for the good he has done. A praise, not as a means to earn salvation, but as an evaluation of what we did with the salvation God gave us.
So out of faith, not fear, we go out and continue to do good. We use our words to uplift, encourage, and support those feeling the weight of the world on their shoulders. We speak hope to the hopeless. We appreciate the smallest of kindness. We buy someone coffee because we know they are facing a difficult day. We mow our neighbor’s lawn because the illness they face keeps them indoors. We give some food to those standing on the corner because it’s the least we can do. We buy extra groceries to give away. And maybe, just maybe, in the end we’ll not only discover our “Why,” but baste in the smile that breaks across God’s approving face.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)
*See 2 Cor. 10:13-15