Ben Sasse on Faith, Mortality, and Facing Death

‘The process of dying is still something to be lived.’

Ben Sasse spoke plainly when he announced his cancer diagnosis a couple of weeks ago. In his public letter announcing the diagnosis, Sasse wrote: “Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die.”

Ben Sasse / Video screenshot

The news hit me like a body blow. I had met Ben Sasse only a couple of times. We are not friends. But we have a lot of friends in common. Indeed, one of our meetings was backstage at the Q Conference in Nashville, where we were introduced by our mutual friend Gabe Lyons. Because of those connections, he is one of those guys who I thought — perhaps arrogantly — one day might become a friend.

He is also a guy I have been cheering on from a distance. He is one of the few people in public life who I think has both a mature and thoughtful Christian worldview and a sophisticated understanding of how the political process works. I had admired his work both in the U.S. Senate and his brief tenure as president of the University of Florida. In 2016, I wrote in his name for president of the United States. I hoped I might have the chance to vote for him again.

But his diagnosis of cancer will likely prevent both possibilities — our friendship and a future political career — from happening. The journey Ben Sasse is now on has robbed me and our nation of a great man.

And, yet, Ben Sasse is leaving us what is an even greater gift. His public appearances over the past few weeks, the weeks since the announcement of his cancer diagnosis, have been heroic, inspiring, and a model for how Christians should live in the face of death.

The first thing I have noted in the podcasts and interviews I have heard in the past two weeks is a complete lack of sentimentality about both his condition and prognosis. He sticks to the truth. In his initial public statement, he said, “Advanced pancreatic is nasty stuff; it’s a death sentence.”

But he quickly reminded us of another truth. “But I already had a death sentence before last week too — we all do.”

In the same reflection, Sasse emphasized that the process of dying still has meaning: “Death and dying aren’t the same — the process of dying is still something to be lived.”

He also spoke about how faith shapes his perspective on suffering and life priorities. “God smashing idols for us is a blessing, and having a death sentence is a really good way.”

Sasse has frequently referenced the Apostle Paul’s words about death and hope in Christ. “To live is Christ, to die is gain,” quoting Philippians 1:21. “The resurrection is the reason we have hope even when we’re dying.”

Something else I have noticed about the interviews and public statements of Ben Sasse over these past few weeks: They are often very funny. “We’re zealously embracing a lot of gallows humor in our house.” He started a podcast with his friend Chris Stirewalt by joking that being on the podcast was causing him to throw up. Quickly correcting the record by noting that it was his treatment, not Stirewalt, that was causing his vomiting. Humor defused a difficult and troubling situation. His wife suggested calling the podcast “Dead Man Talking.” Another name they considered was “I’d Rather Die Than Do a Podcast.” They settled on a name that is a tip of the hat to the comedy troupe Monty Python: “Not Dead Yet.”

Still, for me — as a husband, father, and grandfather — listening to Ben Sasse talk about his family is sometimes hard. He said, “Melissa, my wife, and I immediately were at peace about all this.” Melissa has had her own health challenges over the past few years, so it is not hard to imagine that they have already had tough conversations about sickness and death. But I will admit to tearing up a bit when he spoke of his children, especially youngest son, who is a teenager still living at home.

“Our daughters are 24 and 22, and our son just turned 14,” Sasse said. “And he feels like he needs a dad for a little while longer. So, I want to knock him upside the head and wrestle with him and tell him how much I love him and tell him stuff I wish I had done differently in my life.”

And what are some of those things he wishes he had done differently?

“Lots of dumb stuff that I cared too much about. The foolishness of our works is pretty apparent when you try to really look at the accounting of a life. One thing I tell my kids a lot is, ‘Man, I wish I’d taken the Lord’s Day more seriously…it’s a really good antidote to all those idolatries.’”

Though he has accepted death, he feels an obligation to fight for life, and he has been spending a lot of time at the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, Texas. He said God is a God of Life, so he wants to fight for his life. He says he also feels an obligation to fight for his family, especially his young son. “I’m not going down without a fight,” he said.

He also insists that how he deals with dying is a part of his story, and that his story will not end with his death. He said the Christian understanding of hope is not mere optimism or positive thinking. It is trust in a promised future. “The eternal city — with foundations and without cancer — is not yet, but it is real, and it is coming. We hope in a real Deliverer.”

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