JANUARY 16 "SPIRITUAL DEATH"

Douglas Bader had a dream to fly in the elite British Air Force. When Douglas was 19 years old his flying instructor said, “that young man will either be famous or be killed”. It seemed simply a matter of which would happen first. Well, he was not far off in his prediction. In 1931 Bader crashed his plane in an almost fatal accident. It says of Bader's experience, for days all he felt was pain, as he lay in the hospital bed he knew he was a mess, but not coherent enough to know what was going on. All he knew is he felt excruciating pain, especially in his legs. Read the account, with me of this man’s story from his book, Reach for the Sky. 

 “ …by nightfall all his eyes were sunken and restless in dark hollows and the face was grey and waxy. Glistening with a film of sweat. For a while he slept under more morphine, but as soon as he awoke, it was more pain. The following morning he drifted into unconsciousness, but now and then revived for brief spells. When his eyes rolled with the constant ache and his wandered in a vague half world. Once he was briefly aware of his mother sitting by the bed, Cyril Burge. Joyce, the sister looked in and told Mrs. Burge that they were giving all the morphine they dared and doing all they could, but he did not sound hopeful. It would depend on the patients youth and constitution; in short, his lasting power and resilience to love. That night they sent for Burge again at the hotel where she was now staying, but Bader did not die and towards dawn, Burge was able to go back to her hotel room. Later, Bader awoke and the pain had gone. He could not feel his body at all, but for some reason his mind was perfectly clear on a pillow, looking straight out through the top of a window at a patch of clear blue sky and into his mind crept a peaceful though, “this is pleasant, I've only got to shut my eyes now and lean back and everything’s all right”. Warm peace was stealing over him, his eyes closing and his head seeming to sink into the pillow. It did not occur to him that he was dying. Then through the slightly open door of the room, a woman’s distant voice slide into his consciousness, “shhhh, don’t make so much noise, there’s a boy dying in there!” The word’s quivered in him like a little electric shock that froze the drifting dream and sparked a sharp thought, “so that’s it, I’m dying, hell I am! Feeling began flickering out through his body like ripples from a pebble tossed in a pool. He stopped letting go and the mind was clearing; the body did not move, but the brain began griping through reality, it was the challenge that stirred him. His eyes now opened as he lay thinking quite clear headed now, the pain came back to his leg, somehow he did not mind this time; it was almost satisfying because he felt he was normal again and had slipped out of or away from the ethereal spirit that had been floating him to limbo. Another thought came, “I must not let that happen again, apparently, it wasn't as good as it felt!”  

We can have a misconception of what death feels like. We think that it comes with sirens, warnings, pain and screaming. But in the account of Douglas Bader, death felt warm, peaceful and cozy. He felt no pain, just letting go…  “it felt good there, for a moment…”  Don’t think that “spiritual death” comes any different. You can get to a place where you don’t feel anything anymore, there can be a false peace, a comfort, a coziness of where you are at, you’re slowly letting go and your spiritual life is so close to getting snuffed out! Do you still hear, that still small voice, whispering to you, "you're dying in there, it may feel good, it may feel peaceful, warm and cozy, but you are spiritually dying!"