Do Not Resuscitate
T. David Gordon
Introduction
On Thursday, May 3, we had a very pleasant evening on campus where two of us addressed a few theological questions that had been raised by the students. I represented a fairly standard “Protestant” view on the matters, and a guest to the campusrepresented a fairly standard “Pentecostal” view on the same. There was much good Christian fellowship, hopefully a few intelligent words by the two presenters, and some thoughtful Q&A after the presentations. One comment made by our guest engendered significant discussion afterward, and that comment was to the effect that, among many other miracles he had recently participated in was the fact that just recently several people had been raised from the dead. Since the organizers of the event had not asked us to address this question, I did not do so in my prepared remarks. But the number of questions directed toward me since then suggests that some people would like to know my considered thoughts on the matter, and so I record them here.
“Do Not Resuscitate,” or “DNR,” is a legal expression for a person’s choice not to be intubated or to undergo CPR if the heart stops or they stop breathing. CPR is only 5% effective when done outside of a hospital, and only 15% effective when done in the hospital, and, of course, the figures are even smaller for those whose health is already compromised by other factors. Many prefer the expression “allow natural death” (AND), since the expression is positive, rather than negative. The presence of this expression in our culture, and the voluntary provision for DNR/AND by Advance Directives or Living Wills, indicates that for many people, death is aninevitable part of the present state, and a part that simply cannot be forestalled indefinitely.
For those who believe in Christ, life after death is not merely inevitable;it is also preferable to the present life. Life in the present situation is marred profoundly by our rebellion and by God’s curse on that rebellion (Genesis 3). The entire created order now longs and groans (Rom. 8:22) as it awaits the rejuvenation of the created order that will take place when Christ returns to restore the created order to its original and perfected state:
“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.’” (Rev. 21:1-4)
We note that the next life reverses the curse-banishment of Genesis 3. All of the other curses of Genesis 3, such as the cursing of the ground or difficulty in marriage or pain in childbirth, were small compared to the horrible reality of being banished from the blessedness of God’s own Presence. Revelation 21 therefore states three times that this most dreadful curse will be reversed in the next life as we are restored again to communion with God. Because the present life is so marred by rebellion and curse, the apostolic testimony about the comparative value of the present to the future is consistent:
“For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.” (Heb. 13:14)
“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.” (Phil. 3:20-21)
The Question Stated: Not whether raising the dead is possible; but whether raising the dead would bemorally upright if it were possible.
Many students have spoken with me in the last several days about the possibility of raising people from the dead. I have never attempted the feat, so I cannot address the matter with the authority of experience. I have also never attempted to lift my house off of its foundation, but I suspect it would be difficult to do that. Similarly, though having never attempted it, I suspect it would be difficult to eat a live cat. But again, having never attempted such things, I cannot speak to the question of their possibility or difficulty with the authority of personal experience.
But I believe I can reflect on the morality of the matter with the authority of the Holy Scriptures. And from that point of view, I would suggest that the question of the possibility of raising the dead is not nearly as pressing a concern as the question of the morality of doing so. That is, there are many things that we are indisputably capable of doing that would not be morally right to do; we are certainly capable of dishonoring our parents, committing adultery, murder, or theft, etc. But our capacity to do such things is no warrant for doing them, and I would suggest that it is the unmistakeable teaching of the Holy Scriptures that it would be sinful and wrong—if it were possible—to take someone who has re-entered the blessed Presence of God and return that person to this sinful and cursed existence, and I do so largely on the basis of Paul’s comments in the first chapter of Philippians.
15 Some indeed preach Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from good will. 16 The latter do it out of love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel. 17 The former proclaim Christ out of rivalry, not sincerely but thinking to afflict me in my imprisonment. 18 What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice. Yes, and I will rejoice, 19 for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance, 20 as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. 21 For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. 22 If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. 23 I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. 24 But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account. 25 Convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with you all, for your progress and joy in the faith, 26 so that in me you may have ample cause to glory in Christ Jesus, because of my coming to you again.
Paul’s general point here is his over-riding concern for the spread of the gospel (“What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice”). Therefore, he is not terribly concerned even about those who preach the gospel from ill motives, because it is the gospel nonetheless that is preached (“Some indeed preach Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from good will”), and Paul is determined to rejoice when the gospel is preached, even if the motivation is to afflict Paul in his imprisonment (“The former proclaim Christ out of rivalry, not sincerely but thinking to afflict me in my imprisonment.”).
Paul also says that all he desires is that the Christ of the gospel be honored, whether by his own death or by his life (“that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death”). As long as there is useful ministerial labor for him to do, it is valuable for Paul to remain on earth, and he is willing to do so. But his preference is to leave this earthly existence and to be present with Christ: “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.” (21-23).
We note that, for Paul, “to die is gain,” and to depart and be with Christ is “far better” than remaining here on earth, engaged in ministry. That is, the only thing that makes Paul at all “torn” between dying and living is the opportunity for fruitful ministerial labor while on earth: “to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account” (24). Otherwise, his personal preference is plainly to be with Christ. For the rest of us, we are less “torn” than Paul, because surely none of us regards his ministry as being as significant as Paul’s, who was the initial apostle to the nations. For all the rest of us, therefore, is is not only “far better,” but perhaps “far, far better” to depart and be with Christ.
Paul’s reasoning is apparently informed by the realities addressed in Genesis 3 and Revelation 21 (though the latter was not likely written before Paul died). The greatest blessedness for humans is to dwell in the presence of God, and the greatest curse is to be banished from God’s presence. The reason it is “gain” for Paul to die is because his desire is “to depart and be with Christ.” We may be reasonably confident, therefore, that Paul would have included a DNR in his living will, had his culture made provision for such. Why would anyone who had experienced such blessed “gain” wish to forfeit it for loss? Why would anyone who had entered the presence of Christ desire to be bereft of it? Why would anyone who had exerienced what is “far better” desire to return to what is far worse?
The next life will not merely reverse the greatest curse (banishment from God); it will reverse the other, lesser curses as well. And these “lesser” curses are also real curses. Our own tendency to sin mars our joy and communion with God, and we rightly long for that moral rejuvenation which the theologians call “glorification” in the life to come. As Charles Wesley so aptly put it, when referring to that state: “Take away the love of sinning; Alpha and Omega be.” Similarly, our present mortality continues to separate us from the love and fellowship of those who die before us, and the same mortality prevents us from beginning some long-range goals because we may not live to their completion. We rightly desire to live in a world in which we and all others are perfected in love, a world in which “love never ends” (1 Cor. 13:8). The entire creation (Rom. 8:22) rightly longs for the reversal of the curse that will characterize the life-to-come, and it rightly “groans” with us under the curses of the present existence. It will indeed be a very great “gain” when the curse is reversed, and it will be “far better” to be with Christ than to be here.
So, totally apart from the question of the ability or capacity to raise the dead is the moral question of whether it would possibly be morallyright to deprive another individual of that great “gain” for which the entire created order longs, to deprive someone of that “far better” state, and return them to one that is far worse.[1] Would this not invert the entire Christian ethic to do unto others as we would have them do unto us? Which of us, who felt for the first time the radiant warmth of Christ’s Presence, would wish to return to this cold and despairing world? If we sometimes shed a tear now when we depart from our loved ones for travel, would we not shed many more tears if we had to leave the Presence of the only One who has ever loved us perfectly? When our first daughter, Marian, died of leukemia, our greatest comfort, when we placed her dead body back on the hospital bed at Boston Children’s Hospital, was that as she left our arms she was entering the arms of One who would care for her more perfectly than we had. And though we continue to miss her greatly, and often feel the pain of her absence acutely, we have not once in twenty-five years wished for her to return to this painful world; we wish merely to hold her in our arms again some day in the next. The last thing we would desire for her is to wrest her away from Christ’s perfect love to return here to our very imperfect love.
When would we be morally justified in taking away any true “gain” from another human being? When would it be morally right to take a person from a situation that is “far better,” to return them to a situation that is far worse? Even if we were confident that the individual in question were an unbeliever, for whom we might hope there would be another chance in this life to believe in Christ, the letter to the Hebrews refutes this vain hope: “…it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” (Heb. 9:27). So unbelievers do not get another opportunity after death to escape God’s judgment, believers are “far better” off in the presence of Christ than in being present here. So raising anyone from the dead could only cause them harm; it could not be “gain” for them, it would always be “loss,” and we can therefore only ardently hope that reports to have done so are mistaken. The attempt to do so itself would be uncharitable, and we can only hope that such efforts have failed, and that the Christ who even in this life pledges that no one could snatch us from His hand, would surely prevent anyone from snatching us from His hand when we arrive in His presence.
Each year I creep another step closer to my eventual blessedness. Each year I grow another year closer to being present with Christ, to seeing my parents and first daughter again, to having my sinfulness mortified. Knowing that mortality now threatens to take each of my remaining loved ones from me, I yearn for a day when this will not be so. Expending effort and energy to avoid/evade that sinfulness towards which I am prone, I yearn to be free from the tendency to sin. Serving Christ so imperfectly now, I long to hear Him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant; enter your master’s joy.” And so, when I blessedly arrive one day in the presence of our great Redeemer, rightly surrounded as He will be by adoring hosts, I can only say now beforehand to any who will listen: “Please, please, please—Do not resuscitate.”
1
[1] When Jesus raised Lazarus, it was not to benefit Lazarus, who would die again anyway. It was “for the glory of God” (John 11:4); otherwise, according to the narrative, Christ could simply have prevented him from dying in the first place, as both Martha and Mary complained.