Though I had already been notified, a thought occured to me while I was reading yesterday about the death of Rhonda Glenn, who had worked in broadcasting previously as Rhonda London.
Rhonda enjoyed a successful broadcasting career in Ontario, Canada when she decided to join CTS, a family-friendly Christian television station affiliated with Crossroads, the organization that produces Canada’s daily Christian talk show, 100 Huntley Street. She was given her own afternoon talk show, but later decided to leave broadcasting altogether to persue a career in law. She would have been called to the bar in just a few weeks.
She had married an Anglican minister and they had a son. The next chapter of life was just beginning when she was diagnosed with brain cancer which ended her life just weeks after diagnosis. Pray for her son and husband and family.
But I had this thought later on, that probably many of you have in times like this, “Why her and not me?” Or, “Why am I still here?”
I think much of this has to do with the phrase often used in situations like this, “God took her.” Years ago, my wife attended the funeral of a young girl who died several days after a brain seizure. There was a poem read or sung that said something to the effect that ‘God must have needed another angel in heaven.’ It was perhaps comforting imagery, but not entirely sound theology.
I think the “Why am I still here?” question is directly related to the way in which we use words.
I took a course in university on the Philosophy of Language. It was a seminar format, what I would call a 7-11 course (a minimum of seven people sitting around a table, eleven people if everyone showed up.) The professor sat almost at a corner of the table and I sat in the corner at the opposite end. There was something comfortable about that environment, and when people thought I was taking copious notes, I was actually writing songs. But I enjoyed the readings, interjected ideas into the discussion, and somehow ended up with a B+.
Anyway, the point of the course was that our ideas and concepts are shaped by the way our given languages identify or reference those ideas and concepts. So when we use a phrase like “God took her,” we’re loading the phrase with kinds of assumptions about the nature of God and His involvement in our day-to-day affairs.
Furthermore, since it often seems like some of the best and brightest die, as we might say, before their time, it then leaves us wondering why God would choose to take them. This was the question someone asked me just hours after we heard the news of Keith Green‘s death: Why him and not one of the lesser Christian musicians? That question contains the twist of implying that somewhere that day a Christian singer or songwriter was destined to die, and it was just a coin toss as to which one. (Fortunately, because people say things in moments like this that we shouldn’t judge, we have the liberty of excusing questions like this which are not more thoroughly considered.)
I don’t know what Rhonda might have accomplished in her family, church-life or new carreer. My guess is: probably a lot. I just know that I am still here, and while I think my life pales in comparison to all that she did accomplish, it’s up to me to try to make the most of the day for God’s glory.
You’re reading this, so you have been given another day, too; what are you going to do with it?