For over three decades, I have taught at Loma Linda University (LLU), a school that emphasizes restoring human wholeness through whole-person care. This goal of wholeness may be defined as “the lifelong, harmonious development of the physical, intellectual, emotional, relational, cultural and spiritual dimensions of a person’s life, unified through a loving relationship with God and expressed in generous service to others.”1
Many years ago, when I was teaching at a state university, one of my fellow teachers was a Jewish internist who had done his medical residency at LLU. His practice included the care of many AIDS patients. He told me that the most helpful part of his LLU education was learning to care for the dying.
That made me wonder. What is the meaning of whole-person care to one who is dying? Put plainly, can a person die whole?
Shalom
Among the most relevant biblical words for such wholeness are shalom (in Hebrew) and éirené (in Greek). Both of these words are usually translated into English as “peace.” This peace is far more than the absence of conflict. It is the harmonious interaction of the whole, and it has both personal and social dimensions.
Éirené is the word Jesus used to reassure His disciples about the presence of the Holy Spirit when He said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you” (John 14:27, NRSV). This promise is not limited to the younger and healthier portions of our lives. God promised King Josiah, “Therefore, I will gather you to your ancestors, and you shall be gathered to your grave in peace” (2 Kings 22:20). With the assurance of this grace, it is possible to experience wholeness at life’s end.
The grace of wholeness
My father taught me about the grace of wholeness at the end of life during his last visit to our home. Nearing his eighty-ninth birthday, he made one final journey. We knew that his heart was failing. When I took him to the plane for his return flight, he said, “This is my last trip.” My last and best memory of my father is of him walking through our home, nearly blind but cheerful, whistling “Amazing Grace.” Dad died whole. He was at peace, and he held to the incomparable hope we have for complete wholeness in a world made new.
For pastors who want to help church members and their families experience wholeness at life’s end, here are four practical considerations:
Truth is important. It is generally considered essential for medical professionals to share accurate information about a person’s condition and alternatives for care. While there may be culturally different beliefs about full disclosure, there is merit in asking the person who is most affected how much she or he wants to know and with whom that information should be shared.
Choices need expression and respect. Some individuals want all possible life-extending interventions. Others may prefer to forego burdensome therapies. The dying should not be forced to submit to treatments they find unacceptable.
Families matter. Allow family members to share. It often happens that a person’s condition will make it impossible to express their will. Family members may need to help with decisions that best reflect what their loved one would want. Under such stressful conditions, we want to hear from those who knew the person best and loved them most.
Pain and suffering should be alleviated. Comforting care includes attention to both physical pain and emotional suffering. It is not unusual for persons near the end of their lives to feel that they are being punished for past misdeeds or abandoned by God. Sensitive listening and quiet reassurances of grace can be of great benefit.
Paul wrote, “It was a beautiful thing that you came alongside me in my troubles” (Phil. 4:14, The Message). Whole-person care is being sensitive to people’s concerns for the future, not just the here and now. For the pastor, whole-person care comes alongside people, offering abundant life in this world (John 10:10) and eternal life in the world to come (John 17:3).
