Sarah Tripp didn’t pack any bags as she left, but rather left all the things scattered in all the places she lived for others to use in preparation to come on home with her when they, too, have finished living in the testing ground. Her test is over and she passed. Her sickness is over and she is whole. Her battle with the devil and death is over and she is victorious. Her pain is finished and she is at rest. Her incredible struggle with leaving behind is over and she has left. (That’s the hard part for those left behind.)
One simple photo (above) that Lori Morris sent to me yesterday morning speaks volumes about her legacy. (Lori took this shot of her tv screen as she live-streamed at home with a sick child.) Here’s Sarah’s 14-year-old son, David, on the morning after his mother peacefully went away with the angels, at worship services with the church, serving on the communion table and commemorating the One who gave him and Kate and Mike the hope that now sustains them. Coincidentally, it was David’s birthday. (David is just to your right of the table in the photo.)
And then there was this that I read from Kerri Epling yesterday:
It’s funny how you never know when meeting someone will make a difference in your life. Several years ago at PTP, a sweet mama walked up to me while I was taking a short break and said, “You look like a mom and Bible class teacher. You’ll help me.” There was no discussion or chance for protest. She grabbed some of my things and proceeded to lead me to an area where preschool kids were coming in just a few minutes and said, “Someone didn’t show for their time slot. Be a Bible character and tell them a story.” I don’t even remember what character I chose (probably Esther because I had recently taught that in VBS) as she slapped a headpiece on my head and said “you’ll do fine,” but I have remembered her boldness and passion for sharing the gospel ever since. It wasn’t until the class was over that she even told me her name was Sarah, but the sisterhood bond was immediate. We hugged and laughed about it and went about our day afterward, but that moment has always stuck with me.
Sarah lost her earthly battle to cancer last night, and I will forever be impressed with the grace and peace with which she handled the certainty of her passing. Please pray for her husband and children, and if you have the opportunity to share the gospel with someone, be a Sarah! Seize the moment, take the chance, and be bold for Jesus.
I watched the Christmas movie, Klaus, on Vid-Angel, with the grands this weekend. In fact, we were watching it as I learned of Sarah’s passing. It had this recurring theme stated over and over in it: “A true selfless act always sparks another.” We paused the movie to discuss and apply. I told them about Sarah and the blessings of being faithful to Him while we still have time. I believe there will be these sparks until the trumpet blows from the well-lived life of Sarah. It only takes a stroll down memory lane or a scroll down her Facebook page to see the sparks everywhere.
Scripture always says it in the most powerful way. (Of course, it does. It is the breath of God!) Of Abel, the Spirit said “He, being dead yet speaks. Sarah is speaking today. I’m thankful that I knew her.
The profundity of the comments that children make in Bible discussions never ceases to amaze me. Last night, at my son’s house, there was a discussion of Peter and James in Acts 5 and 12; how that God saw fit to deliver Peter from prison in Acts 5, but did not deliver James in Acts 12. Instead, He allowed his execution. Maggie, who is seven, thought it was interesting and began to think of reasons why that would be the case. Together, they thought of all kinds of reasons God might have had, in His sovereignty and complete knowledge, to allow this disparity. I’m sure they listed reasons having to do with the spread of the gospel and reasons having to do with the strengthening of those left behind. But Ellis, who is four, said, in a trembling and weepy little voice “Wait! God didn’t save James?!!”
This month, while thinking about the covenant life that we live in Christ and about ensuring that our children know that covenant, I received this recording from my dear friend, Berta Kennedy. She was present at a college reunion at the Jacksonville church of Christ; a sweet time when those students who had strengthened their faith, in college years, through being part of the Jacksonville Christian Student Center, came back to enjoy worship and fellowship together.
walked under the giant oaks that he had planted, as saplings, on that church property about a thousand more times to enter the building. He passed out Halloween candy to the church children who came trick-or-treating six more times and he gave about 200 more Christmas gifts. He played with squirrels on his patio, one of which would come and eat bread from his hand. He adopted a stray dog and he piddled in the shop. He celebrated, at a giant picnic at Germania Springs, his ninetieth birthday. And then, finally, on a snowy day in early December of 2017, his body did lie exactly where it had lain on that awful night. But this time, he wasn’t rescued to have six more sweet years of favorite things. He was rescued to have an eternity of things so wonderful…things that are immeasurably MORE than we can ask or imagine.
Yesterday, I hugged a mama who stood by the casket containing the sweet form of her two-year old son. Then I hugged the baby’s daddy. They have spent the last year-and-a half in and out of cancer units at Huntsville Hospital, Vanderbilt and St. Jude. Baby Amos has spent more nights of his life in the hospital than out. They watched him suffer when Morphine and Ativan were no match for the pain. These parents were often away from their six other sons while keeping the bedside vigil for Amos. One of those six is severely disabled–unable to walk, communicate, breathe easily, or eat– due to complications at birth. This nine -year-old receives constant family care. The past year-and-a-half have been, for these parents, only survival mode.
Some of the songs were sung in English first and then echoed in Samoan, the family’s native tongue. One song was sung completely in Samoan and the rich tones of that full and beautiful refrain from that broken-hearted, but faith-filled family are with me still as I reflect. They did not falter in praise. Amos’ uncles and his cousin also helped with the service.
They know right where he is.
Yesterday, the verse was not merely quoted; it was on display. Trouble, in that verse, means a constricted place, in which there is no way to turn. It means between a rock and a hard place. Yesterday was a tangible picture of what His people do when between a rock and hard place and, in the most constricted of places. They realize that the Rock is Jesus and that, even in darkness, they can find a way to stand firmly on that Rock. Thank-you, Abraham, Diana, AJ, Caleb, Mel, Glenn, Gabriel, Zechariah, Pisa, Ruth, Junior, Retta, Malachi and Gideon. We are praying continually. Thank-you Amos, for leaving a little legacy. The God of more (Ephesians 3:20) can do more than we ask or imagine with a brief life lived in that constricted place.
Death and its power never ceases to amaze me. I don’t want to be unfeeling or irreverent, but it has come to every single person (except Enoch and Elijah) since the sin in the garden. Yet we all act shocked when it comes to our house. It is the most predictable event and yet we are never prepared for our loved ones to go. We act as if we never imagined this could happen and yet we knew, beyond doubt, that it would happen.
I know God knows best, but I wish Carol could have lived a little while longer because, unlike most people diagnosed with cancer, she came into her spiritual prime AFTER that diagnosis. Not that she wasn’t a force for the devil to reckon with prior to the cancer, but, with all the spiritual tenacity that was characteristic of her whole life, she determined to spend the last months of her life influencing, patterning and preparing for the time when she “being dead, yet speaks” (Hebrews 11:4). And she does speak with clarity now. She went to her long home (Ecclesiastes 12:5) on Saturday morning early and left many of us just longing for the reunion we will know one day.
The first run quickly sold out and we have a very limited supply of the second printing. If you want one by which you may remember Carol, but most importantly draw closer to the God she served, order here: 
loved my grandchildren. She taught them and many of your children and grandchildren. She was the brightest source of encouragement that I’ve known in this world in a very long time. The chasm of this void will be deep for many. We should pray for each other as we walk through the valley of the shadow of this death (Psalm 23:4). He is with us.