The “The State of Spirituality with Lisa Ling” series explores Americans on unique paths in their faith and spirituality journeys.
What does it mean to die? It’s a question often only contemplated during anguished moments, but it’s one Chaplain Joon Park faces every day.
Park has been a Christian chaplain at Tampa General Hospital in Florida for more than a decade, working alongside 24 other chaplains of various faiths. He has seen firsthand how in times of crisis, faith often becomes a lifeline for those suffering.
“I believe it is a spiritual experience,” Park said when asked if death is spiritual. “So much of death involves making meaning of what is happening, questioning our own value of the life that was lived. These are all spiritual and existential things.”
How some incorporate spirituality into their lives
Around 70% of U.S. adults consider themselves spiritual, meaning they believe in something bigger than themselves, like God or a creator.
Randall Lindberg was one of Park’s patients during a recent hospital visit. Lindberg had been in and out of the hospital frequently in recent years.
“I’ve been through a lot, but this is the roughest,” Lindberg said during his stay. When Park offered to pray with him, Lindberg readily accepted.
Asked if his faith had grown stronger through his medical struggles, Lindberg was emphatic: “Absolutely. Because all I’ve done is prayed. There is no way I could get to this point, to this day, without that faith.”
Park believes people often turn to spirituality when facing death, but not always in expected ways.
“So there are some who pursue spirituality in a way that I need something in this moment that’s bigger than the treatment, the medication, the care team, and there are some who are just angry at God,” Park said. “I validate both. Because both of these for me are spiritual experiences.”
Lindberg was surrounded by his family when he died two weeks ago. Shortly before his death, he expressed gratitude that his story of faith was being shared.
Park’s unlikely journey to being a chaplain
Park’s path to chaplaincy was unexpected. Growing up in Florida, he was an atheist who came from a troubled home.
“Having grown up in a very tumultuous and, unfortunately abusive household,” Park said. “I wanted to enter a calling where I could be that voice, the hand, heart ears, to be able to be present to someone’s story, their pain, their grief.”
As a teenager, Park became involved with a local Korean church that needed a drummer for their band. When he asked if his atheism was a problem, they welcomed him anyway.
“What brought me towards faith was the love of this small church, this supernatural love,” Park said.
Now, having held thousands of hands on death beds, Park has learned that even with faith, not everything makes sense.
“We do live on a world of extreme unthinkable, unfair suffering. And on the other hand, we live in a world of the possibility of love covering pain,” Park said. “I as a chaplain sit at the intersection of my patients and their extreme suffering and my love for them, my care for them, our care for them, in some way representing or reflecting the love of God.”
For Park, the hospital has become a sacred space.
“I am more likely to find God in the hospital and in the hallways here than maybe even a church,” he said. “For me when love shows up, God shows up.”
