The Relationship Between the Branches and the True Vine
End-of-Life Care Journal — In Memory of Pastor's Wife Yin Li Weishan
Dear Pastor's Wife Weishan,
The Lord God also showed me another thing: He commanded the fire to punish Israel, and the fire consumed the deep abyss, almost burning up the land. Then I said, "O Lord God, please stop! For Jacob is weak—how can he stand?" And the Lord relented, saying, "This disaster can also be withheld."
On the first weekend of September 2023, you peacefully fell asleep in the arms of the Heavenly Father; my heart felt as if it had been hollowed into a void, with streams of tears pouring into it, and my dry eyes were left in utter blankness.
A week earlier, upon learning that you had been moved into hospice care, my eyes overflowed with tears. I pleaded with Jesus to heal you and restore your health, yet I failed to ask what the Lord's will for you might be. Faced with the boundary between life and death, I was utterly powerless.
It was just over two months ago when you first reached out to me. You, dear Pastor's wife, didn’t mind my outdated and dull pen, and kindly asked me to give feedback on your article. At the end of your message, you wrote, “I’m happy to receive any comments. Haha!”—as if I could see your cheerful and generous smile, even though we had never met before.
You were well acquainted with many highly respected veterans in church writing ministry and deeply loved by students at the "Genesis Writing Training Institute." Given your honorable reputation, I was truly flattered and humbled that you didn’t look down on me—a completely unknown writing novice. I thickened my skin to become your reviewer, and when I received your beautiful piece The Continuation of Love, a legacy of love you left behind, you thoughtfully said, “Take your time reading it, no rush!” But I read it all in one sitting—it felt impossible to “take my time”; I had to reply to you as soon as I could.
Every word of your rich life journey etched itself into my heart—how could someone like me, a junior, be qualified to critique it? I only offered a few humble suggestions to help strengthen the structure of the piece, and yet you thoughtfully revised it based on my feedback. When I read the updated version you sent back, my eyes and heart grew warm. You had completely grasped my intent and transformed the piece into a refined, radiant work of excellence. Your sharp, quick pen left me in awe! You asked again, “Are there any other suggestions for revisions?” and even mentioned plans to write a “sequel.” I took the liberty of sharing a few writing tips and sent you a humble piece about how my own daughter was healed, as a reference—eagerly looking forward to your sequel.
An Eternal Anticipation
I don’t know if you ever began writing the “sequel.” You once asked me, “Where in the UK do you live? Is it London? I hope we’ll have a chance to meet in the UK.” I replied, “If you ever come to London, I’ll take a three-hour train south to meet you.” Now, the road to our meeting has grown even longer, and your “sequel” remains in my heart, transformed into an eternal anticipation.
I recently watched a British film called The Way (also known as A Man’s Pilgrimage), and was deeply moved. In the film, Harlow, a retired man in his sixties, walks 500 miles across England to encourage his terminally ill friend whom he hasn’t seen in twenty years. He firmly believes that as long as he keeps walking, his friend will continue to live. Inspired by this, I decided to write a “Caregiving Journal” for you.
On a cool Monday morning in northern England, after kneeling in prayer and devotion, I sat upright before my laptop, holding onto the belief, “As long as I keep writing, you will continue to live.” I completed the first journal entry and sent it to you, ending with:
“I asked God, ‘What is glory?’”
From deep within gently arose: “Glory is the Father’s immortal love, His majestic cloak that covers the earth.”
I seemed to see: this majestic cloak was draped over Pastor’s wife.
The next day, I searched online and found a sermon video of Pastor’s wife at the Cantonese Baptist Church in Los Angeles. I was suddenly captivated by your young, clear, and vibrant voice. How deeply I longed to meet you face to face, to quietly listen as your bell-like laughter and words gently blew refreshing breezes around my ears.
One morning shortly after, I received two notifications informing me that my entries had been shortlisted for awards. Overjoyed beyond expectation, tears welled up in my eyes as I asked God, “Who am I to be so graciously blessed by You…” I so wanted to share these two award-winning pieces with Pastor’s wife, to write a letter of thanks, and entrust you to deliver it to Jesus for me. Through the tear-filled haze, I seemed to see your radiant and glorious face, shining even brighter. How I longed to hold your hand, feel your warmth and breath, whisper prayers for you softly, and then place the letter for Jesus into your palm.
The Original Heart of Loving the Lord
On Thursday morning, the sunlight was golden and bright; following Pastor Yin’s advice, I prayed to the Heavenly Father that you would eat well, sleep well, and be comfortable in body and mind. That evening, a hymn I used to sing during my university days echoed in my mind. I looked up the lyrics online and softly began to sing:
To live for Jesus, simply and purely,
Seeking only to please Him in all things.
Willingly and gladly submitting to Him,
This is the secret of God’s blessings upon me.
Jesus, my Lord, my Savior,
I give myself to You.
Because when You died for me,
You gave Yourself.
From then on, I have no other master.
My heart is Your throne.
My whole life, Christ,
I live only for You.
This was my original heart of loving the Lord when I was young! I told Jesus, “If wealth and success cause me to drift away from You, I would rather have nothing but a heart that loves You and longs for You always.” Yet the world exerts an upward pull, always dragging me up into midair only to cruelly drop me down, leaving me severely wounded on the ground. How I hate it, yet I am powerless—being pulled up, left hanging halfway, terrified of falling and breaking my bones. Paul lamented, “Who will rescue me from this body doomed to death?” Could this be the powerless groan born from being trapped in that very pull?
I was curious: “Who could write such words of selflessness, living wholeheartedly for Jesus?” I searched online and found a biography of the author Thomas O. Chrisholm (1866–1960). He was born in a poor wooden cabin in rural Kentucky, USA. He worked as a teacher and local weekly newspaper editor. At thirty-six, he was ordained as a Methodist pastor but resigned due to poor health. Later, he moved to New Jersey and worked in the insurance industry, beginning his life of hymn writing. This ordinary brother, without a high education, wrote over 1,200 hymns in his lifetime, with 800 set to music and published. His most beloved hymns include O to Be Like Thee and Great Is Thy Faithfulness.
The hymn To Live for Jesus had been forgotten by me for over thirty years—so why did it resurface in my mind now? Its beautiful melody, accompanied by sincere lyrics, gently stirred the most delicate strings of my heart. Could it be trying to tell me, “Pastor’s wife Weishan lived such a simple life that pleased the Lord completely”? Tears streamed down my face as I grieved the imminent passing of a faithful servant who loved the Lord dearly.
What the heart truly cherishes is right here among us.
I remember two years ago, reading your prayer request letter in a Christian writers’ group. I wanted to pray for you and asked the group for your full name. At that time, I didn’t know you personally; you were just a name—a prayer placeholder—in my heart. When you reached out all the way from America, asking this humble recluse in northern England to review your writing, the grace of that encounter engraved the name “Yin Li Weishan” deeply in my heart. You were no longer just a prayer placeholder. The moment I took your hand of friendship, I also opened my heart to you, weaving a bond of mutual respect and affection among kindred writers.
Why does the ancient saying go, “If Heaven had feelings, Heaven too would grow old…”? Could the Most High God be heartless? He Himself became human and came into the world, living a life bound by time and space just like us, tasting the bitterness of separation and death. The pale face on the cross is the deepest proof of His love for humanity!
In Anecdotes of the New Language, the chapter on Grieving shares a beautiful saying: “Sages forget feelings; the lowest cannot match true emotion; what the heart truly cherishes is among us.” Thankfully, Jesus, full of compassion, understands one as ordinary as me, unable to overcome the pain of separation and death! Though I met you through writing and have only corresponded for two months, my life as a long-term stranger in a foreign land has grown a branch connected to the true Vine. Now, this branch of friendship has become a cherished memory. I smile and ask the Heavenly Father, “Why did You plant her in my heart only to quickly take her away?” A fellow writer comforts me, saying, “Pastor’s wife Weishan often lamented her laziness and lack of diligence in writing her testimony; in the end, she wrote it and found you to help polish it…” I can’t help but ask, “Was it the Holy Spirit that moved her to find me?” To me, Pastor’s wife’s piece The Continuation of Love is a priceless legacy left to my long-barren, withered pen, like a call urging me to “work more for the Lord while there is daylight and write diligently.”
Gazing Toward the Hope of Eternal Life
The day before Pastor’s wife peacefully entered her heavenly home, I continued writing the lyrics of To Live for Jesus in the “Caregiving Journal”:
To live for Jesus, because of Him for me,
He bore my sins and shame upon the cross.
This love compels me to answer His call,
Respectfully offering Him all I have.
Jesus, my Lord, my Savior,
I give myself to You.
Because when You died for me,
You gave Yourself.
From then on, I have no other master.
My heart is Your throne.
My whole life, Christ,
I live only for You.
I kept singing the chorus over and over, sharing it with you and myself; your faint breathing seemed to cross the Atlantic and reach northern England, humming the same melody in my ear. At this moment, I truly envy your state of “dressed neatly, waiting for your husband,” wholly devoted to the Lord. As for me, I must continue wrestling with that upward pull—falling, getting up; falling again, getting up again... until I completely disregard worldly vanity and preserve the pure, simple heart that loves the Lord without desire or demand. Then, with you, I will meet face to face for the first time in the eternal heavenly home. On that day, no upward pull will seize me, and I will finally love Jesus with all my heart, solely and wholeheartedly—just like you.
On the weekend morning of your passing, the sky over England cleared from gray to bright, and my soul was unexpectedly filled with joy. For you, I wrote:
“In this chaotic world, we look far ahead with eyes of faith toward the hope of eternal life, seeing at the horizon’s end the cross shining brightly; the holy face of the Son of Man, Jesus, reaching out His nail-pierced hand, ready to open His arms to embrace us.”
I wrote with full passion, believing that as long as I kept writing the “Caregiving Journal,” you might be healed... On your journey to your heavenly home, did you ever look back and smile at me, calling me a “fool”?
Before returning to Taiwan, while considering writing a journal for you during my layover, my phone suddenly received the news of your peaceful rest in the Lord. The world instantly turned white before my eyes, and it felt as if a piece of my flesh had been torn away. I wanted to cry—but no tears came. If that inspiration came from the Holy Spirit, then hadn’t those earlier words already foretold, “Jesus is opening His arms to embrace Pastor’s wife”? You have been freed from bodily pain and entered into glory, and rightly so, we should rejoice and give thanks. Yet why am I still unprepared in my heart to accept the reality of you walking with the Lord in paradise?
I am blessed in this life to have accompanied you on your final journey; our brief correspondence has become a deep and true friendship to me. Looking up at the sky, the clear blue now blossoms with your warm and passionate smile, as if telling me, “Stop belittling yourself. Keep your heart fervent and diligently write—I am waiting for your triumphant return in heaven.”
Thank you, Pastor’s wife. I will.
Respectfully yours,
Li Qun
Yin Li Qun, born in Hong Kong, holds a Master of Divinity from a seminary. She has worked in writing roles at gospel organizations and Christian newspapers. After marriage, she followed her husband to study in the UK, since when she has been a full-time caregiver for her family, occasionally working part-time as a dance instructor. She has lived in northern England continuously and is a mother of three. After a 20-year hiatus from writing, she resumed writing for God in middle age, dedicating the rest of her life to Him. She has won several writing awards, and her articles have appeared in publications such as Cosmic Light Magazine, Christian Forum Daily, Feiyang Magazine, Kingdom Revival Times, and Hong Kong Christian Weekly.