April 5th Daily Devotion

Volume XVII Number 23 – November 6, 2025 

When Heaven Feels Close  

A few weeks ago I saw a Facebook post from Rev. Doug Dommer. He and his sweet wife Delo are long-time friends of Terry’s and mine. Doug had spent all day in a hospital with his dear friends — Herb Noack, his wife Patricia, and their sons Chris and Jarrod.  

Doug had been Herb and Patricia’s pastor for 40 years. Throughout that time they have also been Terry’s and my dear friends. Years ago, Herb had served as chairman of the Board of Directors of Lutheran Foundation of Texas, now Legacy Deo. He was one of my bosses.  

With Doug’s permission and Patricia’s blessing, here are the slightly amended poignant words Doug wrote during and after that day in the hospital:  

There are moments in ministry when words feel small, the air feels heavy, and heaven feels close. Standing in a hospital room with a family as they face the decision to remove life support from a husband and father is one of those moments.  

As pastors, we often walk with families through joyful seasons, baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and other celebrations. But sometimes God calls us to walk into hospital rooms where the humming of machines and the blinking of monitors fill the silence that words cannot fill.  It’s a sacred place, holy ground, as the Lord’s angels surround those gathered with expectant hope. It’s a place where faith and heartbreak hold hands.  

When a family gathers in that room, the questions are never just medical. They’re spiritual, emotional, and deeply human. “Is it okay to let him go?” “Are we doing the right thing?” “What if God still has a miracle left?”   

There are no easy answers — only the quiet assurance that God is present in the waiting, the weeping, and the whisper of His promises.  

I’ve learned that my role in those moments isn’t to try to fix, but to be a calm voice of love, hope, and assurance when the storms of fear and indescribable anxiety rage within their mind, heart, and spirit. To be a reminder of hope when they can’t find it on their own.  

To be a shepherd pointing toward The Shepherd who walks with us through the valley of the shadow of death, I often begin by reminding them:  

• “You are not ending his life. You are entrusting him to the God who gave it.”  
• It’s not “pulling a plug” — it’s placing a life back in the hands of the One who formed it.  
• It’s an act of faith, not failure.  
• It’s surrender, not abandonment.  
• It’s trusting God’s promise of eternal life is stronger than any machine that breathes for us.  

I’ve seen incredible beauty in those final moments. The family that gathers close to sing their Father’s praises. To whisper prayers. To let flow the tears that fall on a hand now still.   

And then — the peace. The kind of peace that no words can explain, but the Spirit makes real.   

Every time I walk out of a hospital room like that, I carry the family’s sorrow in my heart. But I also carry a deep sense of holy awe. Because I’ve just witnessed a glimpse of eternity breaking into this world. Death may take breath, but it cannot take belonging.  

As pastors, we’re not just there to help people die well. We’re there to remind them that life never really ends. The same Savior who conquered death is the One who now receives His child with open arms.   

So when I stand beside that hospital bed, I whisper — for them, for myself, for all of us:  

“Into Your hands, O Lord, we commend this man — a beloved husband, a father, a child of God. Receive him into Your everlasting peace.”   

Then we wait. And heaven draws near.  

Two days later, Herb went to heaven. Patricia and her family are grieving, but not like those “who have no hope.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18)  

Thank you, Doug, for your ministry to these beloved friends of yours … and of ours.  

Today's Perspectives will reach thousands of folks, those who will be blessed by what Doug wrote and those who have already been blessed by Herb’s quiet yet powerful testimony.  

Herbert Erwin Noack, Jr. A life well lived and hugely blessed. From the day he was born till the day heaven became more than just close. 

Dr. Gerald B. "Jerry" Kieschnick | GBKies@gmail.com  

Opinions in Perspectives are the author's and do not necessarily reflect the position of any group or organization.  Used by permission of Dr. Kieschnick