Online Church - Seniors

If you are facing an overwhelming situation or a long recovery, take the small steps with God's help.

Hugh Franzsen sat at a table in the hostel dining hall playing cards with some of his colleagues.

The fellow they called ‘Holy Joe’ approached them and offered them a booklet about Jesus. They waved him away, but he left one of his booklets on the table anyway. The group left once the card game was over, and then Hugh returned quietly, and picked up the booklet and took it to his room. He read the message telling how he could have ‘Safety, Certainty & Enjoyment’ by accepting Jesus as his savior. He dug deep into his clothes trunk, and found the bible his mother had put in there when he left home. He compared the scripture references from the booklet, then got down on his knees and asked Jesus to be his savior and lord. He became a changed man, and served the Lord Jesus for the next 50 years. He gave away thousands of copies of that booklet over the years. He shared his joy and faith wherever he went, and enjoyed his life and good health to his 70th year.

It was in that last year that for the first time in his experience he began to feel deep seated pain in his abdomen. The doctors examined him, sent him to hospital, and they operated on him. When they opened his abdomen, they found wide spread cancer. They closed him up again, knowing there was nothing they could do for him. His friends who had worked alongside him for more than 40 years came to sympathize with him. Knowing they were not followers of Jesus, he smiled and shared his assurance that he would soon be in the presence of the One he had loved and served. He invited his visitors to pray with him; to invite Jesus into their life. Some spoke at the funeral, of what that meant to them, how Hugh had so cheerfully glorified God through his death!

David, King of Israel wrote in Psalm 116:15 “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints”.

Christians are often challenged to glorify God in their lives, but few give thought to doing so in death. In western culture, people tend to avoid talk about dying; they try not to think about it. We are currently seeing an unprecedented increase in our population of ‘seniors’, people who will be facing the inevitable experience of passing from this world to the next, in the not too distant future. We can make an intentional decision about how we will handle this when the time comes.

How can a follower of Jesus glorify God in such a time?

John, in his gospel writes an insightful comment about Peter. John outlived Peter, and remembered the exchange between Jesus and Peter in Galilee subsequent to the resurrection. He quoted Jesus words:

“Verily, verily, I say unto thee; When thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not.” This spake he, signifying by what death he should glorify God. And when he had spoken this, he saith unto him, “Follow me.” John 21:18-19

Peter must have often thought of what Jesus had said to him. There are two verses in Peter’s writings that demonstrate this.
“Yet if any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed; but let him glorify God on this behalf.” 1 Peter 4:16
“Knowing that shortly I must put off this my tabernacle; even as our Lord Jesus Christ hath showed me. Moreover I will endeavor that ye may be able after my decease to have these things always in remembrance.” 2 Peter 1:14-15

There is no doubt that Peter suffered martyrdom as predicted by Jesus. The Romans did not crucify their own citizens, but generally used this method of execution on other ethnic entities. There is a reference related in Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History 2.25.5-8 that Peter was crucified. Jerome later records a tradition that Peter requested to be crucified upside down, to differentiate his manner of death from that of Jesus. There is little further record to substantiate this. Neither do we find much detail on the deaths of the rest of the apostles, even of Paul or John.

Death is not viewed in Christian history as important; it is a passage we pass through to the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ, if we have trusted Him as our savior and lord. When a Christian understands they are not saved by the things they have done, but by the finished work of Jesus on the Cross of Calvary, they can face death with confidence, enduring the pain and suffering if that be part of the process for them.

Let us say with David “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.” Psalm 90:12.

© 2012 Jim Cole-Rous

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We don't go there as often as we used to. When we were young, my brothers and I hurried through Saturday morning chores knowing that when our work was done, more often than not, we'd get to go to Taco House.

Tacos, burritos, chalupas, guacamole . . . but "voted family favorite" were the cheese enchiladas. My official transition from childhood to independent womanhood came the day I chose to eat my first bowl of green chili.

When I married and moved to Texas I craved that green chili so much that my folks brought me some on dry ice when they came for a visit. On an extended visit from our home in Norfolk, Virginia, I gave up nursing Diana so I could have green chili without upsetting her tummy. Yup, I took to Green Chili like a duck to water.

Andy lost a pacifier once between the window and a stationary booth at Taco House, and howled in protest when we had to leave it behind. Every one of my children graced a high chair there, then a booster, before being big enough to sit unassisted in a booth. Now I'm working on that process with the grandkids.

Three of my four children honed their work skills waiting tables and washing dishes at Taco House. Their familiarity with the menu and the fact that we were practically family virtually assured them of a position. Ah, yes. I have a mental portfolio chock full of memories from that little restaurant. I go there now as much for the memories as for the food.

One of my favorite memories took place a couple of winters ago, just before Christmas. The temperatures outside were brisk, typical of a Colorado winter. Taco House was decked out in its holiday best - twinkling lights, seasonal greetings on the windows, and the same o'le massive holly wreath on the wall that has hung there since time immemorial.

The restaurant was packed that day. So were our schedules, which explains why Andy and Ben came in one vehicle and I in another. We maneuvered our way through the crowd to an orange booth in the rear and slipped into seats that had long ago stopped cushioning derrieres.

The guys ordered cheese enchiladas without onions and the parts to a number four dinner. I ordered - what else - green chili. While we waited for our meal we caught up on one another's day and sipped iced cold Coca-Cola. Once our food arrived, we devoured it between ongoing chit-chat over what-not. Finally full Andy and Ben readied to go.

"You sure you'll be all right, Mom, if we go ahead and leave?"

"Oh, yea. I'll just pay the bill and make a stop by the bathroom. You go on ahead. See you later!"

I paid the bill then coat and purse in hand meandered through the tables to the ladies room. Brrrr it was cold in there. They don't heat that little cubby hole. The only light comes from a bare bulb overhead, and a very tiny window near the single commode. I locked the door and took care to finish my business in record time.

I washed and dried my hands, gathered my purse and coat, and turned to leave. I pulled on the knob and the door held fast. I checked to be sure it was unlocked. It was. Laying my belongings on the sink, I used both hands and pulled a little harder - nothing. Remembering the restaurant burgeoning with patrons, I gently tapped on the door, "Hello??? Anybody there??" Nothing.

I knocked a little louder. "Helllllooooo????? Can you hear me?" Nothing.

Shivering as much from cold as escalating panic, I wracked my brain for face-saving measures. I would not make a scene. I WOULD NOT.

Just before launching into full blown alarm, I remembered my cell phone. Be still my heart, help is on the way.

I dialed Rob all the while begging, "Please pick up the phone, please pick up the phone."

Soon the ringing was interrupted by his deep, bass voice, "Hello. This is Rob. How may I help you?"

"Hi, honey. It's me! I'm Fine. Just fine."

"Well. I do have one little problem . . . I'm stuck in the bathroom at Taco House."

He chuckled and I relaxed. Being a typical male he launched into fix-it mode.

"I tired that, Rob. They can't hear me over the noise. . . NO, I'm NOT gonna do that, everybody will hear me. Tried that too. It won't budge. Look, would you mind just calling and asking them to let me out?"

I pushed the off button on the phone, slipped it back into my purse and pressed my ear against the icy door. I waited. He'd have to look up the phone number so this might take awhile. Man, it's getting cold in here. Finally, through the din of voices I heard the phone, ring-ring-ring-ring.

"Hello, Taco House." Pause. "You're kidding!" I distinctly heard laughing.

In a minute, Brian the cook knocked on the door. Being a typical male he launched into fix-it mode. "Pull on it again." I did. Nothing. "Try turning the knob while you pull on it." I did. The doorknob came off in my hand. By now everyone in the place knows someone's stuck in the bathroom. Pause. "Okay, look there's a window in there, open it up and I'll bring you a screwdriver."

Soon there was a rat-a-tat-tat at the window. I turned the crank, slowly, slowly opening the stubborn old window until my rescuer and I were face-to-face. "Oh, it's you!" he said, "I should just leave you in there." Funny. Very funny.

He pressed the screwdriver into my hand, then instructed me to take the screws out of what was left of the mechanism on the door. I unscrewed them one by one until there was nothing left in the door but a small, round opening. Anchoring my finger firmly in the hole I gave it a tug and the door swung open wide.

Every waitress in the place was outside the door waiting for my timely release. So much for anonymity. Brian was laughing. They were laughing. I gathered my purse, coat and remaining dignity, said my thank-yous and walked red-faced through the horde of curious patrons and out the door.

Thanks to Taco House I've come full circle from a dependent child, to an independent woman, to a dependent woman. I don't even remember the last time I got to go to Taco House by myself.

People age differently, just as they are born with different energy levels, talents, and abilities.

Recognizing the needs of senior believers