“Name? Birth date? Allergies? Smoker? Drinker? Religious preference?” The nurse asked the questions, marked my answers, and inquired, “Is your will in order?”
She then moved to another couple in the next bay, only a few feet and a thin curtain away. My wife and I heard him clearly answer “None” when asked his religious preference. “Is your will in order?” Then we listened to an awkwardly long silence.
Wouldn’t it be fantastic if the major problems he and I each faced could be solved with the relatively minor surgery consisting of a tiny access slit in the femoral artery and the subsequent insertion of an expandable piece of wire mesh tubing into an artery near the heart?
After the nurse left, my neighbor’s wife told stories of angioplasties gone wrong. The atmosphere in the two bays had become dynamic opposites. One filled with hopelessness, a fear of imminent death, plus the possibility that the wife might be left alone in this world. The other held assurance-based confidence.
One room, although lit the same, was in darkness. The other knew we all have souls, and that what happens to our souls is entirely in our own hands and no one else’s. Not our parent’s, not our spouse’s, not a doctor’s, only our own.
It has never been true that good people go to heaven and bad people don’t. Were that the case, heaven would be completely empty. Mother Teresa wouldn’t be there. Nor would Billy Graham. Neither of them was perfect; they were human. But our hearts don’t have to be troubled (John 14:1).
We would be perfect if our sins were all forgiven. But we’re not. It is difficult to miss out on heaven. We must reject the cross or sneak past. So, which bay do you want to be in? You get to choose.
Jerry Maurer is a writer.