We Lost the Battle...

But He Won the War

I (John) wrote this a week ago and thought I would share.

(Warning: spoiler from The Chronicles of Narnia's The Last Battle below.)

Robert Fueille was a friend of mine and a strong believer in Jesus Christ, the Healer.  At 28 years old, he was the husband of a beautiful wife named Aimee, the father of three precious, small children named Ethne, Emeline and Egan.  I knew him primarily through my wife’s family.  My Sister-in-law traveled on an overseas mission trip with Robert around the year 2000, and they became close friends, even though they lived 1,400 miles apart in the States.  When she married in December 2008, Robert flew into South Alabama and photographed her wedding.  It turns out that he had become an amazing artist as a photographer.  He and his wife traveled together on that trip, and besides being talented, they were humorous, friendly and simply delightful to be around.  Considering their personal history with our Sister, essential role in our joyous wedding event and lovely personalities, you can understand why we bonded with them very quickly.  By the time they left, we were all saddened to see them go, remorseful that we could not spend more time together but glad to have found such wonderful friends.

It was less than two months later that we found out Robert had an aggressive form of cancer.  We were shocked.  We felt tremendous sympathy for his wife and small children who were going to fight this battle with him.  And we, along with many of his friends, felt useless to help.  We wanted to offer support, but they were well over a thousand miles away.  So, we prayed and wrote our encouragement.  Some of his friends created a T-Shirt fundraiser to help support them; we bought the shirt and wore it.  And, we prayed.

Robert kept a video blog of his treatment that opened our hearts and minds to what he was going through.  My wife and I would visit http://robertfuel.com/fight every night beginning summer of 2009, and we watched Robert’s fight against cancer.  We prayed incessantly that God would do a miracle in Robert’s body, and a whole community of believers joined with him in that fight.  My wife and I began fasting once per week, and Robert was at the top of our intercession list.  During an intense period of chemo treatment, the tests began to show better and better results until the cancer seemed like it would surely be beaten.  Our hopes rose, but when the treatments ended, he began to decline again and much too rapidly. 

Robert passed away late on a Saturday night, May 29, 2010.  When we got up that Sunday morning, we found this message on his blog, “Our dearest Robert began his new life tonight. He was surrounded by family and a few close friends. We were able to have a sweet time with him for a few hours after the kids went to bed. His long fight ended in peaceful sleep and we thank God that he is free of pain and suffering. Thank you for all your prayers and support.”

We wept that morning.  I felt the loss of a father in the world; his children will not grow up with their dad.  I also felt the loss of a husband; Aimee is now a single mom.  But most personally, I felt the loss of a brother in Christ whom I befriended and with whom I fought a good fight.  I am certain that I will weep over this loss again.

In Robert’s death, there has been loss and wounding to all of us who knew him on this Earth.  Yet, we know that Robert is currently experiencing freedom and life because He is unified with Christ who overcame death.  Robert is already unified with Christ and so we should rejoice, but we are not yet experiencing that unity with Christ ourselves and so it hurts horribly.  This terrible paradox reveals the tension that we live in until Christ returns physically and visibly to rescue His Bride from the corruption of this world.  Each of us must deal with the death of our loved ones and recognize that the pain we experience is okay and normal.  As we grieve, we bring the fullness of our pain to Christ and take hold of the hope that He offers us as the Healer and Comforter who is not only with us in our pain but also assures us that eternity is in the hands of an infinitely good and loving God.

I laugh a bit as I think of what Robert must be thinking and feeling right now.  I cannot think of a better illustration than in The Last Battle, book 7 in C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia.  Throughout all 7 books, the children have been passing into a mystical land called Narnia through magical means, accomplishing great adventures and then returning to their homes in England.  In The Last Battle, the same sort of situation seems to have happened.  Narnia is in dire need, and all of the children find themselves somewhat unexplainably in Narnia (similar to the way they always found themselves sucked into Narnia).  After fighting a tremendous battle in which the children and all good Narnians seem to have lost, Aslan (the portrayal of God in Narnia) appears and ushers in the end of that magical world called Narnia.  The children and good Narnians are brought into another wonderful land that they cannot quite recognize but which completely boggles their mind with its goodness. 

Near the end of the book, a dialogue between Aslan and the children reveals one of the most wonderful views into Heaven I have ever seen. 

Then Aslan turned to them and said: “You do not yet look so happy as I mean you to be.”

Lucy said, “We’re so afraid of being sent away, Aslan.  And you have sent us back into our own world so often.”

“No fear of that,” said Aslan. “Have you not guessed?”

Their hearts leapt, and a wild hope rose within them.

“There was a real railway accident,” said Aslan softly. “Your father and mother and all of you are—as you used to call it in the Shadowlands—dead.  The term is over: the holidays have begun.  The dream is ended: this is the morning.”       

Yes, this is Robert’s morning.  His dream has ended, and all things are good now.  He no longer worries about whether his wife and children will be cared for because he is in the presence of the One who is infinitely good and promises to provide for them.  Robert will no longer feel pain or suffer.  He is free.  And I am certain that the moment he began to realize that his Earthly life has ended, his heart leapt and a wild hope rose within him!  I cannot help but smile at what he must be experiencing now.

Please understand me.  This does not mean there is no pain for us in his death or that we should just move on in life when someone dies.  I must have sat here for an hour now reading the blog post that Robert began his new life, crying, typing a sentence, and crying some more.  I am blurry-eyed and completely un-presentable even as I type this line.  Grieving is necessary and normal.  In fact, feeling in general is neglected in our highly rationalistic society because it often connotes weakness, and we are afraid of demonstrating any vulnerability.  I am simply saying that from Robert’s perspective, the healing has finally taken place.  He is alive and well, and that is a comfort to us today, even if it takes much time and processing for us to be healed from our loss of him.


The key to our healing on this side of heaven is allowing ourselves to experience life authentically and fully so that we can encounter Jesus with the fullness of our needs.  In other words, I need to grieve fully and let myself experience the pain and emotions that accompany loss so that when I encounter Jesus and present my pain to him, I will be presenting all of my pain.  If I lock my emotions out, then when I bring my needs to Christ, I will leave my emotions locked up and out of sight, but if I bring all of myself to Jesus, He will heal all of me.  I must experience the fullness of my life for Christ to redeem the fullness of my life.

So, yes, we lost the battle against cancer in Robert’s body, but He won the war.  Jesus won the war when he died on the cross to cleanse us of all our sins and heal us of all our diseases.  But Robert also won the war because he never gave up hope in Christ.  He overcame the fear of death and is now raised up to new, everlasting life in Christ.  And we will all join in that victory one day.  We will all face death ourselves, not just the death of our loved ones, but we will all die.  And in our weakness, God’s strength will be demonstrated perfectly and fully.  In our utter helplessness to the enemy called death, King Jesus will raise us up to new life!

In Aslan’s words, “The term is over: the holidays have begun.  The dream is ended: this is the morning.”

“And as he spoke he no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. . . . And we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world . . . had only been the cover and title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read, which goes on forever, in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

Robert, we are deeply saddened to see you go.  We are remorseful that we did not spend more time together.  But we are glad that our wonderful friendship will be renewed again one day.

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