Sept 30, 2026
One of the responsibilities of pastors is to visit those of his congregation who are in hospital. I say responsibility but it’s more than that. It’s a privilege. And it’s inspiring too. Why? Because people who are sick enough to be in hospital are fully aware of their vulnerability and their need for healing. Sometimes they face inevitable death. Conversing with the dying is serious business.
So often I’ve heard from the depths of a dying person’s soul. There’s no small talk, no platitudes, no discussion of the weather. Rather it’s often about choices they made that bore lifelong consequences – choices for good and for bad. And in the face of their terminal condition they know there’s no going back.
For both good and bad memories I remind them that the grace of God knows no limits. His mercies are “new every morning”. He “knows our frame, that we are dust”, and His word tells us that “when our hearts condemn us He is greater than our hearts and knows everything”.
These moments are precious. Time and again I’ve seen palpable peace appear on their faces, sighs of relief, and quiet. We pray together. We weep together. Sometimes we even quietly sing together – often a stanza or two of a much loved hymn. Peace descends in the room and I move on with the promise to return. But I’ll never forget the hardly audible words of one dear soul I visited years ago as I was preparing to move to Jerusalem to plant the King of Kings church. “You’d better hurry pastor, or I may get there before you!” she whispered with a faint smile. And she did. She died that evening, her heart at rest in Jesus.
