Requiem for John Leigh

"He who conquers shall have this heritage, and I will be his God and he shall be my son." (Revelation 21:7)

The last time I spoke to John Leigh was last Thursday, on the phone. He was short of breath, but very much looking forward to getting home. I left him with the hope that his recovery would continue in greater comfort than it had in the hospital. And then he said to me, "I love you," and I said, "I love you too." I shall always treasure John's blessing to me, the truthful expression of love, as his last word to me. I shall keep that foremost in my memories of him, not the shock with which I received the news of his physical death Saturday morning. I pray that we all can keep the memories of the love between us and John first and foremost in our memories.

Yes, we all were shocked on Saturday to hear this terrible news. Here at Church on Sunday, everyone I spoke to asked the same questions: What happened? Hadn't he just gotten home from the hospital? Why didn't the doctors catch this? All valid questions that deserve an answer. But I also think that we were dealing with the suddenness of John's collapse by trying to find the cause. And once the cause was known, then responsibility could be fixed as well. Who was responsible? Human beings? God?

I was 17 when my mother died very suddenly. And I asked all those questions and others as well. Was it "her time" for God to take her? Absolutely not. Nor was it "John's time." God does not inflict death upon us. God hates death. Death is the enemy of God. We were not created for death, and death is not our final destination. It is a mystery through which we all must pass sooner or later. God has created a world of freedom. We have the freedom to choose good or evil. And the world around us is free to operate by the laws of nature. God does not cause earthquakes. God does not cause tornados. Nor does God cause the various illnesses that eventually bring about the death of our physical bodies.

If that is the case, if death just happens to us, then how can we affirm the God we worship in this Church as all-powerful and worthy of our trust? We can indeed, profess our belief in God, "the Father almighty." But God is not almighty because he is untouched by death. Death is a mystery which God has also passed through, in his son Jesus Christ. God has taken the worst that this world can do. Jesus died on the cross, and was raised to life on the third day. And as Jesus has been bodily resurrected, so shall John, and so shall we all.

For now, John is with the communion of saints, the holy men and women who have gone before us. And I have no doubt that his family, and this church he loved so much, will always be supported by his prayers. For John is truly one of the conquering sons of God, and God will hear the prayers of his sons. As John valiantly fought the cancer in his esophagus over these past several months, that conquest was clear for all to see. I saw that conquest at least twice.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the hospital in Birmingham to see John. He was set to have his feeding tube surgically inserted. I hoped to get there either before or after the surgery. But I wasn't sure I would be able to see him. I thought I remembered his room number, but I wasn't sure. So, I stopped at the reception desk and asked for John's location. The receptionist said, "He's in waiting room 6." I knew that wasn't his regular room. But off I went toward waiting room 6. When I got there, I saw families anxiously waiting for word of their loved ones. But I went to the reception desk there, and just said, "I'm here to see John Leigh," and the receptionist pushed the button behind her desk. The doors opened, in I went, and the first person I saw was John. He had been waiting there for several hours. We held hands, and spoke of his fear, and his hope. At this point, a nurse came by and informed me that I was not supposed to be there. So, I laid my hands on John, anointed him for healing, and went my way.

The nurse thought I wasn't supposed to be there, and according to hospital rules, I suppose I wasn't. But God knew I was supposed to be there. And that day, God conquered the forces of loneliness by opening the door that needed to be opened so that John could be reassured that he would never be alone.

As John's battle against the cancer progressed throughout the fall of last year, I could also see him conquering in those three simple words, "I love you." It seemed that every conversation we had always ended with that exchange of love. Of course, John was always a loving man. He loved and served his country in the United States Marine Corps. He loved and served his family. He loved and served his church. But it wasn't until he began his life-or-death battle against cancer that he began to express his love to me as readily as he did. As John Denver once sang:

"Ashes to ashes, dust into dust
Buildings will crumble, bridges will rust
Mountains will disappear, rivers will dry up
And so it goes with everything but love."

We all will die someday. But far worse than physical death is that living death of isolation and loneliness. In his heartfelt expressions of love, John Leigh conquered the forces of death, of isolation and loneliness. And today, John is a son of God, and always shall be, world without end. Amen.