Go Beyond

Reflections as we lay my brother-in-law Craig Reynolds to rest.

One of the things I enjoy most is listening to stories. We all have stories — those narratives that define and give context to our lives, that give the listener clues about our existence, frustrations, hopes, and aspirations. I’m the guy who will look at the pictures in your home and ask you to share a story about a particular one. Last month I visited with Craig and listened to more of his stories. I am thankful for that opportunity because I learned a little more about Craig and the experiences that shaped him from his childhood all the way through his military career. Among other things, I asked him to tell me the story behind the photo of him shaking hands with President Bush with Air Force One in the background. That story prompted a discussion about God’s plans and purposes among the nations, something that Craig and I often talked about on the occasions when we were able to see each other. Over the years I was privileged to hear many of Craig’s fascinating stories.

Craig was also interested in the stories of other people. He cared deeply about the men and women under his command in the Navy and also those with whom he worked in these last years of his life. Because Craig was interested in people he was also interested in listening to their stories — stories about their families as well as about their struggles, challenges, dreams, and aspirations. The insight he gleaned from listening to those stories made him a more compassionate individual who understood the value of sharing a little bit of balm or a little bit of honey with others. Balm to heal and honey to encourage.

In medias res is a Latin literary expression that means “in the middle of a story.” When you think about it, we all die in medias res — in the middle of a story, of many stories. A couple of days ago I read the last anniversary card that Craig had given to Cindie. In that card, he had written a beautiful inscription in which he expressed his gratitude for the time he had been privileged to share with Cindie. Craig’s heartfelt inscription was a summary of his love story with Cindie, what he described as the best years of his life. Craig was never unrealistic about the fact that he was going to die in the middle of his love story. In the final weeks of life every day was like a year and every hour like a day to Craig and Cindie. They cherished every moment. And as his body grew progressively weaker, Craig’s love and concern for Cindie’s welfare grew increasingly stronger. With the help of family and friends, Craig arranged for some things to be done around the house that he felt would make things a little easier for Cindie after his death. These practical expressions of his concern were among the final entries in Craig’s love story. And, just as he had hoped, Cindie was at his bedside when he drew his final breath. But although Craig died in the middle of a story, of many stories, his death does not mark the end of his story.

Knowing that something hard or difficult is going to happen, that it’s imminent, does not necessarily make it easier to accept when it finally does happen. We have known for months that Craig was in the fight of his life against cancer, and now that he is gone we feel a measure of relief that he is no longer suffering but a great deal of sadness that we will never again see him on this side of heaven. Over the past year we have done more than watch Craig battle cancer, we have been inspired by him. As the cancer advanced and gained ground, it ultimately fell short of breaching the citadel of Craig’s faith. Craig refused to surrender hope or to allow it to be taken captive by despair. Every day of the battle, the flag of Craig’s faith was still there, defiantly flapping in the breeze above the fray. Craig did not lose his battle against cancer because cancer never captured the flag. Cancer may have destroyed his health but it unwittingly strengthened his faith and revealed the depth of his commitment to Christ. This too is a part of Craig’s story and legacy of faith.

When writing to the church at Corinth, the Apostle Paul reminded them, “You yourselves are our letters of recommendation … written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts” (2 Cor. 3:2-3). I am among those who are a part of Craig’s story. Some of those who knew Craig have a few sentences and others a few chapters written on the tablets of their hearts as a result of their association with him. I believe that I am a better person for having known him. One day every one of us will die in medias res. When that day comes may it not mark the end of our stories, but like Craig, may we live in such a way that even our dust will continue to praise God and tell the world of His faithfulness (Ps. 30:9). And may we also leave a narrative of love and concern written on the hearts of others that will continue to be read and that will inspire others for years after we die. I will miss Craig and our conversations, but I am thankful that his story will continue to encourage and inspire those who hear it.

Although the news was not unexpected, it was nevertheless painful to hear. Yesterday evening we received word that Craig Reynolds, my brother-in-law, had passed away. The past several months have been incredibly difficult as the cancer in Craig’s body spread and began to systematically eat away at his strong frame, reducing him to half his body weight. A few weeks ago Craig lost the ability to eat and had to begin a feeding regimen through a tube inserted in his abdomen. On our last visit, Craig told me, “I can’t eat anymore — one of the few things that you can still enjoy as death nears. But I can breathe!” Craig never complained but instead tried to see the upside of things. At one of the last meals that Cheryl and I shared at his home, he even took the time to come into the kitchen to help prepare for us what he could not enjoy himself. Craig continued to find small ways to serve others to the end.

I marveled at how Craig could stand the intense pain he suffered in the final weeks of his life. I was even more surprised when he insisted that his pain medication be regulated so that he could still feel a bit of pain. He did not want to be entirely numbed or sedated. Craig said that he still wanted to feel a little bit of pain because even a slender thread of pain kept him tethered to what it feels like to be alive and aware of your surroundings. Perhaps it was a combination of his strong faith and his military training, but Craig continued to bear as much of the responsibility for his own care as he could until the very end when he was in and out of consciousness. I think that this was also his way of easing the burden of care on Cindie, his wife. He understood how hard she was working to manage the household and everything associated with his care. Watching how Craig faced death gave new meaning to “Rock” — the nickname given to him by the men in his Bible study group.

For those of us who knew him, Craig was indeed a rock-solid man. His faith in Christ was unwavering, even throughout the years he served in the military and flew search and rescue missions in Vietnam. And his commitment to his family was rock-solid as well. Craig was a source of godly counsel and sound advice shaped by a lifetime of having developed a strong Biblical worldview. And it was his Biblical worldview that ultimately prepared him to face death with confidence. In the past months Craig often quoted 2 Corinthians 5:8, “We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.” Craig faced death with the confident assurance that it would not be the end but instead an entrance into the very presence of the Lord whom he loved and had served for a lifetime. Craig was privileged to meet lots of important and renowned leaders throughout his military career, but all of this pales by comparison to what Craig experienced the moment he took his final breath — meeting Jesus face to face.

This morning, as I reflected on Craig’s life as a military man, I thought about the centurion who approached Jesus in Capernaum. This military man asked Jesus to heal his servant who was lying paralyzed at home. When Jesus agreed to go to the man’s home to heal his servant, the centurion told Jesus that he was not worthy to have Him come under his roof but believed that Jesus could heal his servant by merely speaking a word. That exchange prompted Jesus to say, ”Truly, I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith” (Matt. 8:10). I think it’s interesting that the guy who expressed the kind of faith that got the attention of Jesus was a military man who understood what it is like to be in authority and under authority. Maybe Jesus will introduce Craig to that centurion in heaven and these two military men who demonstrated great faith will reflect on how beautiful it was to trust in Jesus. We will miss Craig and everything that his presence meant to our family but know that we will see him again. We grieve with hope. Fair winds and following seas, Captain Reynolds.