Rejoice! It's Christmas!

For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Ro 6:23

Oh, Lord, I thought, why now? It’s Christmas…

Larry’s compressions were perfect. Two inches deep, a hundred a minute, right out of the book. John had the airway under control, an endotracheal tube in place, properly secured and ventilated. My partner, Warren, started the IV and handed me drugs. Epinephrine. Atropine. I pushed them into the IV line, delivering just the right amount to stimulate the old man’s heart. In all it was a perfect code, an organized attempt to save a human life, and it couldn’t have gone any better, but deep inside I knew it was futile. He wasn’t going to make it.

"I don’t know," I said shaking my head. "This just isn’t working. I think it’s time to stop." I glanced at Warren. "What do you think?"

"No," a voice behind me said. "Don’t stop! C’mon, daddy," the young woman cried. "You can do it!"

I glanced around me at my patient’s family, a wife and three grown children. Their cries of support, the hope I saw on their faces, it all just about broke my heart. We’d done everything right, run a perfect code in the middle of their living room—a beautiful home decorated with Christmas tree and lights—but a flat green line still traced across the ECG screen. It painted a picture of finality, a portrait of hopelessness and death.

"It’s Christmas, dad. You can’t leave us now!"

"Honey, stay with us. We need you here."

I felt my eyes well up. I shook my head. "It’s no use," I murmured. "He’s already had three rounds of epi and atropine. One of bicarb. Pacemaker won’t capture…"

I glanced at the family again. I could feel their pain. But as I considered my protocol I knew what I had to do.

"Larry," I said with a sigh. "Hold compressions."

I placed my fingertips against the old man’s neck. Larry paused and took a much-needed breather. I squinted and stared at the cardiac monitor hoping to detect a sign of life—a blip, a pulse, any indication that my patient’s heart had responded to treatment—but I couldn’t. The thin green line continued its lonely trek across the screen. My fingers felt nothing but cool dry skin beneath them. No pulsation. No warmth. No life.

I glanced at Larry and shook my head.

"You can stop."

Then I stood and faced the family.

"Folks—"

I took a deep breath. A fist-sized lump threatened to close my throat.

"I’m so sorry…"

*

It’s hard to lose a loved one, especially this time of year when our thoughts turn homeward and old memories of Christmas fill us with hope and joy. But there’s never a convenient time. Death always seems to surprise us. It’s so final, and at times seems so unfair. So what’s a family to do when they face such terrible loss? Where can they find peace? Where’s the hope?

Well this year as you enter the holiday season, remember there is hope. Even in death, real hope. That’s what Christmas is all about, a new beginning. Life. You see if we were all perfect, totally obedient to God, we wouldn’t need a savior. But we’re not perfect. The Bible says we have all sinned. And with sin comes darkness. Death.

Sounds pretty bleak, huh?

Well if that were the end of the story it would be, but it’s not. For two thousand years ago God sent us hope, a way back into His presence where we all truly belong. And His plan was revealed through the birth of a child, His son—Jesus Christ.

*

Yes we have all sinned. And we will each take our turn at death. It’s inevitable. No one can escape it. But don’t fear, for you have been given the greatest gift of all—Jesus Christ. He was born. He’s still here today. And in him you can find life. And peace. And hope.

So rejoice. Be of good cheer. It’s Christmas!

* * *