My facebook friend Brent White has an excellent post on one of the biggest news stories of the week, the story of Brittnay Maynard. You can read his post here.
In the the first paragraph White says this:
Given the tone of this article, which was reprinted in USA Today and received much sympathetic approval on social media, I find myself strangely unmoved by this 29-year-old cancer patient’s decision to end her life later this month. Whatever else her decision may be, it is deeply unchristian. It denies the fact that God gives us each moment of life as a gift. It also denies that God could have any purpose for permitting someone to suffer—what Tim Keller rightly calls God’s “causal relationship with suffering.”
I want to add to his point about “God giving us each moment of our lives.” Most of the time words or something to that effect come off sounding cliche. We’ve heard it a million times, “God is the giver of life,” “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.” And though that doesn’t sound too satisfying or comforting when watching a love one die–ESPECIALLY when watching someone close to us pass from this life into eternity–for it can be very insensitive when used that way, there is still a truth to this that we may have forgotten. That truth is this: That God is the AUTHOR AND SUSTAINER of life.
I want to explain the implications of this by quoting from Gilbert Meilaender’s book, Bioethics: A Primer For Christians
Christians have held that suicide is morally wrong because they have seen in it a contradiction of our nature as creatures, an unwillingness to receive life moment by moment from the hand of God without ever regarding it as simply “our” possession. We might think of ourselves as characters in a story of which God is the author. Dorothy L. Sayers ingeniously developed this analogy of artistic creation in The Mind of the Maker. Of the “work” produced by the artist Sayers writes:
For the satisfaction of its will to life it depends utterly upon the sustained and perpetually renewed will to creation of its maker. The work can live and grow on the sole condition of the maker’s untiring energy; to satisfy its will to die, he has only to stop working. In him it lives and moves and has its being, and it may say to him with literal truth, “Thou art my life, if thou withdraw, I die.” If the unselfconscious creature could be moved to worship, its thanks and praise would be due, not so much for any incidents of its structure, but primarily for its being and identity.
Characters in a story do, of course, have a real, if limited, freedom, and a good author will not simply compel them to do what is contrary to the nature he himself has given them. But at the same time characters do not determine the plot of their life’s story, and it is a contradiction of their very being if they attempt to bring the story to its conclusion. We are dependent beings, and to think otherwise to make independence our project, however sincerely is to live a lie, to fly in the face of reality.
This SHOULD have some impact or influence on us in guiding or steering us in end of life decisions.