Serial The Anointed: 21. Farewell To A Good Friend

A silhouette of a man lifting his hands in worship against a backdrop of an evening sky. Next to this man are the words: "The Anointed - a faith-based serial." — Follow along with this thrilling serial about the highs and lows of Pastor John.

It’s 2035. John and I see each other about three times a year. We spend a day together and talk about everything.

I saw him just two months ago, so it surprises me when John unexpectedly calls, asking if I can come over for a day this week. I always make time for John, so a few days later, I’m sitting in his living room. I notice John looks thin and pale. Suzanne serves us coffee and then leaves us alone. Everything feels a bit strange, and alarm bells are ringing inside me. “John, how are you?”

John places his hand on my arm. “I’m not doing well. They recently discovered I have colon cancer.” I’m shocked. How bad is it? “It’s worse than they thought. It has spread throughout my body. There’s nothing more they can do. I have a few months left.” John smiles as he says this, but I see the sorrow in his eyes.

I don’t know what to say. I grab his arm and sit in silence. I think back to the time in Scotland when he had that life-changing encounter with Jesus. We also sat together in silence then. Now, as old friends, we sit in his living room.

“I even considered asking for prayer in a healing service, but I’ve decided against it.”

“Drink your coffee before it gets cold. Don’t we have a cookie this time?” John breaks the ice with a joke. “Suzanne, don’t we have something sweet for Matt? You know what a sweet tooth he is.” Suzanne brings a tray of cookies and sits next to John on the couch. John tells me about his symptoms and the doctor’s referral for tests, which quickly led to the terminal diagnosis.

“I even considered asking for prayer in a healing service, but I’ve decided against it.” John laughs. “The odds are too slim. If I went to Chicago where Pastor Andrews is now, I’d have a one in a thousand chance of being healed there. At least that’s what I heard, that one out of every thousand visitors there gets healed. In Medford with Pastor Samuels, maybe one in five hundred, and in Nigeria with Pastor Joseph, one in two hundred. But I don’t want to chase after that healing. I won’t attend service after service in the hope that the healing will be for me. Let God give it to someone else. I want to enjoy these months with Suzanne, the children, and grandchildren. I want to say goodbye properly. Of course, if God wants to heal me, I’d be grateful, but I’m not going to seek it.”

I nod, understanding his decision. Surprisingly, we still have a pleasant afternoon. We laugh a lot together. As I get ready to leave, John pulls me close. “I would like to see you a few more times before I go. Will you come back soon?” I promise to do so and head home, deep in thought.

“This will be a much bigger adventure. Perhaps the biggest adventure of my life. I’m about to meet God.”

Before John passes away, I visit him three more times. Each visit, John seems weaker. The first time, we still manage a walk with his two dogs in the woods. The next time, he is already bedridden. Yet these are special times. We’ve never talked so deeply before. Well, talked… I do most of the talking, and John listens. I share things I’ve never told anyone else – my fears, dreams, weaknesses, and desires. John nods, listens, and understands. I feel understood. Though he’s getting sicker, these talks are healing for me. When I mention this to John, he forbids me to feel guilty. “It’s also very good for me to talk like this with you. Don’t feel guilty about it. Life’s too short for that.” That’s John, always joking to make others comfortable.

“Are you afraid of dying?” I ask him. John shakes his head, eyes twinkling. “Going to Scotland with you was an adventure. Remember how we slept like tramps under that shelter, got seasick on the boat, but ultimately both met God? This will be a much bigger adventure. Perhaps the biggest adventure of my life. I’m about to meet God. Of course, I’m not looking forward to dying, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not afraid. I’m curious about what it will be like. Part of me can hardly wait.” John grips my arm, tears in his eyes. “The hardest part is leaving Suzanne and the kids. That’s what I find most difficult.” I nod, being there for him.

“Matt, don’t doubt yourself any longer. You are a good man, a good friend.”

The last time I see John, he is on a morphine drip, very weak. He can barely talk. Whispering is still possible. As I leave, he pulls my head close to his mouth. I struggle to hear him. “Matt, don’t doubt yourself any longer. You are a good man, a good friend.” I squeeze his arm and kiss him for the last time.

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Matt Vlaardingerbroek, a former seasoned church planter and pastor in Holland’s inner cities, brings Bible stories to life through ventriloquism and magic. He’s authored three books, and founded www.creativekidswork.com, providing over 1,500 innovative Sunday school activities worldwide.