Sunday, February 4, 1996
is a significant day
in the Redfern family.
Our son, Scott, was a sophomore at Immanuel High School in Reedley. (Keep in mind:
sophomoric
means
overconfident with knowledge but poorly informed
.) He was having a
sophomoric
morning. He argued with me all the way to church about
some
issue on which he was not well informed. He was relentless and unapologetic about wanting his way. Neither Tony or I can even recall the issue, but we remember the argument well.
As we arrived at church, Scott was still angry and left the car in a huff. Am I the only one out here who finds it so artificial to sit through church with an argument still on the table?
Following church, Tony reminded Scott how important it was to make things right with me. Time, and perhaps some serious conviction, had softened Scott's heart. He told Tony that he knew he was wrong and was on his way to talk to me. Scott walked up beside me, put his arm around my shoulder and apologized for his anger. He asked me to forgive him, and I did. We hugged and went on to have a great day, laughing and talking with one another about the plans we had for the coming week.
The next day, February 5th, at 11:36 a.m., God called Scott home
(
)
.
He was placed on life support and kept alive about 30 hours. Scott was declared brain dead on Tuesday, February 6th.
February 4th is such an vital day to our family's journey. Not because it was our last full day with Scott, although we cherish that time. Even more importantly, February 4th is one of our most treasured days because Scott chose to not let the sun go down on his anger - without even a hint that he would never have another day to offer an apology.
The words of Ephesians 4:26 are not a suggestion; they are an imperative in living out our faith –
Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger.
Anger is not always a sin. Holding on to one's anger to the point of breaking relationships is where sin grows.
Do not let the sun go down on your anger
became very real to our family as we gathered around Scott's hospital bed. Amid our immense sorrow arose a deep gratitude that in his last hours, Scott allowed his commitment to Jesus Christ to transform his own selfish, natural desire to be right. Although we miss Scott deeply we find comfort in knowing that we do not carry the regret of
unfinished business
– a conflict left unresolved.
Could today become one of your family's most significant days?
Is there an apology you need to make . . . before the sun sets?
