Anger Vs Pity

I've spent the last several days fuming.  Fuming admittedly accomplishes nothing, unless you count that it makes me feel better in the short term.  I've been fuming at the incredible arrogance and ignorance (it's amazing how often those two characteristics go hand in hand) of Pat Robertson.  On September 14, 2011, Pat Robertson stated his opinion, when asked, that the husband of a woman diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease should make sure that she had suitable care arrangements and then divorce her because, "Alzheimer's is a form of death." You can read CTV's news article with the full context and quote here.

Admittedly this is not the largest of Robertson's gaffes, but it's one that flips my switch.

Alzheimer's Disease is a fatal disease that slowly and insidiously destroys the mental faculties of a loved one.  It leaves the family members to cope not only with the eventual physical death of the loved one, but also the death of everything that made that person who he or she was.  I've seen and experienced it first hand.

This vile disease claimed my wonderful, intelligent, loving, tall and handsome Grandfather and reduced him to a fearful, sometimes angry and belligerent shell of a man who couldn't remember his own name or where he was.  When Gramp was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease in December of 1989, Nana said, "This is the 'in sickness and health' part of my marriage vows, and I will care for Max as long as the Lord gives me strength."  She spent the next three years doing just that, often at the expense of her own rest, peace of mind, and physical health.

See, Mr. Robertson?  That's how it's done.

There's also a "reaping and sowing" principle that can be applied here.  Nana's loving example in caring for Gramp was somewhat repaid in the love and care that was shown to her, especially during the last years of her life.  God graciously showed His love to both Nana and Gramp in taking them to their Heavenly Home from the warmth and comfort of their earthly home, surrounded by the family that loves them more than anyone else in the whole world.

And that's where the pity for Mr. Robertson surfaces.  It seems that he equates physical and mental wholeness as criteria in order to be worthy of love.  And while I am in no way saying that Mr. Robertson does not love his wife,  I hope for her sake that she remains healthy for the rest of her life.  I would be nervous, were I in her position.

I am thankful that God's ways are higher than our ways, and that we don't have to be physically and mentally perfect to receive His love, mercy and grace;  that " God commended His love to us in that, while we were sinners, Christ died for us", and that "we love Him because He first loved us."

I wonder if Mr. Robertson truly understands that?