My friend Liz died this week. She died while I was stroking her arm and praying for her. She was just 38, and she leaves behind a grieving husband and five beautiful kids.
There are many things I will miss about Liz: her insight and wisdom, her laugh, her prayers, her passion, and her gifts of books.
During our friendship she gave me several books, but there are three I want to mention. The first is Hind's Feet in High Places by Hannah Hurnard. It is an allegory like Pilgrim's Progress about Much-Afraid, and her journey away from her Fearing family and into the High Places of the Shepherd, guided by her two companions Sorrow and Suffering. The book takes its title from Habakkuk 3:19,
"The Sovereign LORD is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights."
At the time my daughter had just been diagnosed with leukaemia and I was struggling to make sense of it all. While reading the book, I became Much-Afraid, recognising my companions all around me. The following is my favourite part:
Much-Afraid had often noticed that the Shepherd’s hands were scarred and wounded, but now she saw that the scar in the palm of the hand held out to her was the exact shape and size of the seed of Love lying beside it.
“The seed looks very sharp,” she said shrinkingly. “Won’t it hurt if you put it into my heart?”
He answered gently, “It is so sharp that it slips in very quickly. But, Much-Afraid, I have already warned you that Love and Pain go together, for a time at least. If you would know Love, you must know pain too.”
Then he pressed the thorn into her heart. It was true, just as he had said, it did cause a piercing pain, but it slipped in quickly and then, suddenly, a sweetness she had never felt or imagined before tingled through her. It was bittersweet, but the sweetness was the stronger. She thought of the Shepherd’s words, “It is so happy to love,” and her pale, sallow cheeks suddenly glowed pink and her eyes shone. For a moment Much-Afraid did not look afraid at all. The twisted mouth had relaxed into a happy curve, and the shining eyes and pink cheeks made her almost beautiful.
The next book is also about a journey, this time over rough seas. The Life of Pi by Yann Martel is about two journeys: a journey through three great religions: Hinduism, Christianity and Islam; and a journey on a boat for 227 days through shark-infested waters, with a very large tiger. Maybe those two journeys are the same…
I was very moved and challenged by this book. There are references to familiar Bible stories such as Jonah and Daniel, cleverly woven in. The writing is beautiful and lyrical, and the reality of a sovereign God dominates the story.
Finally, just a few months ago, she told me I had to read Living Water by Brother Yun. She had been taken by the story of Brother Yun in the book The Heavenly Man, especially his endurance of intense persecution for the cause of Christ.
Living Water is a collection of Brother Yun’s dynamic teachings, drawn from his experience of both suffering and revival. Yun shares how the grace of God sustained him during his darkest hours, and how that darkness was transformed into the infectious joy and zeal for the Lord that are the hallmarks of his ministry. This book is particularly aimed at lukewarm western Christians, telling us to get real about Jesus. It's not about how to live a happy life, but about taking up one's cross, and finding true joy.
Now that I reflect on these books I realise they have similar themes: long journeys through pain and suffering with the hope of rescue, redemption, renewal on the other side.
So Liz travelled the dark journey through cancer, rarely complaining, ever hoping for complete healing, always taking the time to challenge and encourage others. She is gone, but these books remind me of all she taught me about her beloved Shepherd.
