A Change Of Heart
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"A Change of Heart" by Scott Dalgarno
"Targets and U-turns" by Gary L. Carver
"Crazy Dreams" by Stan Purdum
"Praise the Lord" by David Leininger
What's Up This Week
Control -- We all want it. We all crave, at some level, to feel as if we have the power, be it over a person, a situation, or even ourselves. While we all want control, should we always have it? When do we need to let go of control? What happens when we give up control? In "A Change of Heart," we see that giving up control of people around us can have amazing results. "Targets and U-turns" shows us that while we think we have control of ourselves and our spiritual destiny that control leads to destruction. Salvation requires us to give up control to one who is higher than we are. "Crazy Dreams" gives us an example of someone who feels that loss of control and must decide how to confront that situation. There are things beyond our control -- even death, as shown in "Praise the Lord."
* * * * * * * * *
A Change of Heart
Scott Dalgarno
Jeremiah 31:31-34
Carol Lee and Jerry hadn't been married long. They had lots of love but little money. Living in the city they took what they could get: a one bedroom, no parking, apartment in a neighborhood where it was Halloween ever day.
Sirens were ubiquitous and for every church there were six tattoo parlors. One of those was located right next door to their apartment house. Normally very accepting, Carol Lee was incensed by it. The place was busy until late every night. The people who showed up there were often loud, drunk, and even violent. Confrontations on the sidewalk in front of the place happened, it seemed, nightly. Carol Lee was livid. She'd walk all the way around the block to get to her apartment instead of taking a few steps to cross in front of the horrid shop.
"Come to bed," Jerry would insist, while Carol Lee would rip whoever she saw going in. This evening it looked like a single mother with two toddlers in tow. "That woman with the bleached blond hair obviously can't afford to feed her children and look, she's spending money on body art!"
When a man in their complex complained to the police about the noise, his Honda's tires were slashed. Things were getting bad. When Carol Lee brought up the parlor Jerry blew her off saying he wasn't getting involved and she better not either. His policy was simply, "Let's get the kind of jobs that'll pay us enough to get out of here." But Carol Lee couldn't think about that with little children suffering because of their mother's bad choices. She decided to do something that was entirely Carol Lee. She decided to get a tattoo.
Yep, she couldn't change them by hating them so she decided to get down and dirty with them. Maybe if she understood them better something would shift in her or maybe even in them. So, the question hung in the air: What kind of tattoo?
Carol Lee poured over books of quotations at the public library, She settled on something by Madame de Stael. Armed with her choice, she showed up on the doorstep of the shop. She got there near noon when they opened. It was much too early for them to be busy. She'd found the walls of the place covered with pictures of naked women, knives and axes dripping blood, Nazi art, Our Lady of Guadalupe, the American flag in various positions, and human skulls.
Carl, the proprietor, was putting some Japanese lettering down a young woman's lovely neck. Carol Lee admitted to herself that it was tasteful if not beautiful.
Another artist, Enrique, asked if he could help her. "Yes," she said. "I want a tattoo. No art, just simple lettering to go around my left wrist."
"Saying what?"
She handed him the piece of torn notebook paper with the quote: "Who understands much, forgives much."
"Why this?" he asked.
Because I live next door and you guys scare me with your fighting, and loud talk and scary customers," she said. "I want to understand you more so I can forgive you."
"Geez," said Enrique to Carl. "Dude, we got to stop fighting so much. We're scaring our neighbors."
Carl tried to downplay the problem but Carol Lee stopped him quickly, saying she wasn't there to complain. She just wanted to get a tattoo and get to know them a little bit while doing it.
That diffused everything. Carl smiled and Enrique laughed quietly and led Carol into the back where he opened a book of samples. He showed her a line from Hitler's Mein Kampf.
"No," said, Carol Lee, "I really want the quote about forgiveness."
Enrique really chuckled this time. "No," he said, "I'm not trying to get you to wear Nazi propaganda, but you still need to pick a writing design for me to copy."
Carol Lee laughed at her own ignorance. "Sure, sure, that's very nice. I'm sure it'd look less harsh in German."
In twenty minutes he was done and the words looked as delicate as her tiny wrist.
It seemed like overnight that Carl and Enrique became Carol Lee's best friends. She passed in front of their business many times every day now, waving and joking and showing everyone the lovely sentiment made even lovelier because she wore it with such pride.
The neighborhood changed, too. No more fights broke out, Enrique and Carl made sure the neighborhood was safe for all who lived there. Jerry and Carol would bring dinner down to the fellows and their families once a week or more. The bloody knives and swastikas disappeared from their walls and baskets of flowers now hung from the eaves of the business. People hardly recognize the place anymore. Police walked by now, shaking their heads.
Scott Dalgarno is pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Ashland, Oregon. He is also an adjunct professor at Southern Oregon University, where he teaches Film and Ethics. His poetry, essays, and stories have appeared in numerous publications, including The Christian Century, America: The National Catholic Weekly, The Antioch Review, and Alive Now.
Targets and U-turns
Gary Carver
Romans 3:19-28
His father had once served as the pastor of the largest Baptist church east of the Mississippi River. He asked me to go to the meeting with him. I replied that I would be honored. His name was John. I was privileged to accompany John to the meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous in which he received his pin for his first year of sobriety. When he addressed the group, his first words were, "My name is John and I am an alcoholic." It was my first A.A. meeting. I experienced as much church at that meeting as I have experienced in many church meetings. I was overwhelmed by the compassion and camaraderie.
As I left, and many times since I have wished that we would start every church gathering for worship or ministry and state, "My name is ___________ and I am a sinner!"
It is the foundation upon which the fellowship is formed. It is that which we have in common with each other. It is that which binds us together in the fellowship we call the church. It is the fact that we are sinners. We all are sinners! Any debate about that? Does anyone wish to counter -- to argue the point?
In 1966, I was privileged to hear the noted author and then pastor of the First Methodist Church in Houston, Texas, Dr. Charles Allen. He looked as if he were six feet nine inches tall and appeared as if he weighed 38 pounds. He had the longest southern drawl. It took him ten minutes to say anything! But when he did, it was well worth hearing. I was spellbound.
I shall never forget him saying, "Now, you can tell a man that he had diphtheria and it may be the truth. But it is not good news! You haven't told that man the good news until you tell him that there is a cure for diphtheria. You can tell a man that he is a sinner and that is the truth. But it is not the gospel! You haven't told that man the gospel until you tell him that there is a cure -- a remedy -- for his sin! That remedy is the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ. That's the gospel!"
That's the message that everyone wants to hear, needs to hear, because all have sinned! "But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known" (v. 21). There is good news! The gospel proclaims that God, through Christ, has provided a way out of our sinful state. There is forgiveness for all our sin because Christ has died for all sinners. No one does a better job in explaining this than does Paul in the book of Romans and in our text in particular.
Paul pronounces that God's righteousness now comes separate from the law. "Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world held accountable to God. Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of sin" (vv. 19-20 NIV). God's righteousness, God's way of righting wrongs, now is manifest apart from rules, regulations, and religion. God's gift of putting us in right standing and relationships with him and others comes to us quite independently of the law.
Of course, the law has its purpose to make us conscious of wrong (v. 20). Because of the law, we are aware that we exist in sin -- a state or condition of sin! Because we are in sin, we commit sins, acts of commission and omission. We do things that we should not do and fail to do things we should do because we are sinners.
Karl Barth in his 1918 Commentary on Romans emphasized that we must hear the "No!" of God. We must hear God's no to all our sins and to all our own efforts to make ourselves right! There is nothing we can do, in ourselves, to rectify our sinful situation.
Abraham was a good man. He heard God's voice, left home for a place he knew not where, and even believed God's absurd promise that he and Sarah would produce an heir. He was a good man, but not good enough! Noah was a good man. He built an ark on dry land, heeded God's warning, and preserved the race. He was a good man, but not good enough! Moses was a good man. He overcame his own lack of confidence and speech problems to become God's spokesperson to free the Hebrew people. He was a good man, but not good enough! Samson was a good man. He became God's warrior, mighty in battle. He was a good man, but not good enough!
David was a good man! He was a successful king, prepared for the building of the temple, and even authored many of the Psalms. He was a good man, but not good enough! John the Baptist was a good man! He was the greatest of prophets, the Elijah-like forerunner of the Messiah. He even baptized Jesus! He was a good man, but not good enough! Mary was a good woman. She had the incredible audacity to believe upon the word of an angel that a virgin could have a baby. Indeed, she was the mother of Jesus! She was a good woman, but not good enough! Paul was a good man. He was the most devout of Jews, the most missionary of Christians and the very writer of the text that awes and inspires us today. He was a good man, but not good enough! Even with the very best, there can be no claim to sufficiency.
A country music song sung by Trace Atkins titled "I'm Trying!" woefully recalls the excellent advice given to him by significant adults, all of which he had been unable to keep and can only lament, "I'm trying!" Paul says that trying has nothing to do with it. He would agree with Mae West when she admitted that "goodness has nothing to do with it!" Now, God rights our wrongs completely independent of our ability or inability to keep the law.
Paul continues to add that faith in Jesus is the new way of experiencing God's just righting of wrongs. "But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify" (v. 21 NIV). "But now!" But now, a new era has begun. A new age has dawned. God now deals with us in a new way. Jesus Christ is now the new point of entry into God's reconciling love as well as the lens through which it is focused.1 Because we cannot, God can and does through Jesus Christ.
Paul develops his polemic by adding that all must experience this new way of righting wrong because all have sinned. "This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (vv. 22-23 NIV). All of us are sinners. Each one of us has sinned. Created in the image of God to be truly human, we have sinned. We willfully and deliberately have chosen our own fate of alienation from God and its subsequent death. Rather than obey God and live in fellowship with him, we have stubbornly and defiantly disobeyed God, sealing our separated state.
It is not a matter of degrees, whether one is a big sinner or little sinner. It is not a matter of rearing, whether one had a more conducive environment or not! It is not a matter of intelligence, whether one knew better or not! It is a matter of fact that we all are in the same boat. We have no excuse! We are all sinners and each one of us has sinned.
There are many words translated sin in the Bible, at least ten in the New Testament. In the Old Testament, the major emphasis is upon the word transgression or trespass. "Trans" means to "go through." Here the connotation is predominantly to go through one of God's red lights. God has established laws, the Ten Commandments and others, and to sin means that we have broken the rules, disobeyed the law, therefore we must suffer the punishment. Jesus expanded the concept of sin to go beyond the categories of commission and omission and described sin as "missing the mark," an archery term. Jesus used the word hamartia (it is found in the Old Testament, as well) to emphasize that we have missed the target -- the mark -- the goal, purpose, or vision that God has for us. We are not the dream God dreamed for us when he gave us life. Frank Stagg points out that his word also carries accompanying guilt and punishment.
John Claypool says there are at least two ways that we "miss the mark" of God's intention for our lives. One way we miss the mark of God's intention is to seek to be more than we are. This is the self-chosen path of arrogance or aggressiveness wherein we ignore or deny our own limitations and get beyond our own boundaries. Claypool named Adolf Hitler as a vile example of one who aggressively ignored his own limitations. Reading the Nihilistic philosophy of Frederick Neitzche, he fashioned himself as a member of a superhuman master race whose supposed superiority should give them rule of the world. God, if there was one, sought to hold down humankind. The supermen were above restraint, morality, and even deity himself, thought Hitler. And millions paid with their lives for his crazed idiocy.
The ancient Greeks had a word for it! It was the word hubris, sometimes translated pride or the tendency man has to try to go beyond himself, to try to be more than he is, to try to be God.
Claypool noted another way we can miss the mark of God's intention. This is when we slink into being less that we are. This is the self-chosen path of apathy, timidity, or irresponsibility wherein we lazily shirk our obligations and have no sense of ought, must, or should. Dr. Claypool names another Adolf as an example of such callousness -- Adolf Eichmann, the conscience-less puppet in charge of the "final solution of the Jewish problem." At the Nuremberg trials, when faced with the responsibility of the murder of millions, this tragically apathetic mouse of a man only shrugged lamely and said, "I was just doing what I was told to do." Here was a spineless bureaucrat who took orders and never once questioned or altered their maniacal purposes or deadly consequences. To get along, he went along and thought nothing of it. Eichmann definitely was less than God created him to be and created untold privation as a result.2
Harvey Cox, arguably America's greatest theologian, reminds us that in some sense the sin of Adam and Eve was that of apathy. It was easy just to let the serpent tell them what to do rather than show some spunk, take a stand, hold a conviction, exhibit some fortitude, and stick to one's guns. And yes, they, too, received a lasting punishment for their disobedience and for being less than God created them to be. We can miss the mark of God's intention by being more or less than we are.
What we are or were before we sinned, what God created us to be is to be truly human. It was Kierkegaard who said that the essence of sin is the steadfast refusal to be one's own true self. So, we all are sinners. We, each one, have committed sins and have tried to be more or less than we are, than God created us to be. Created in the image of God, our loving Lord fashioned us to be truly human, as was Jesus. And we fall woefully short.
Is there any way out? There is a first step. The wonderful Roman Catholic storyteller, William Bausch, relates: In Vienna, Austria, you will find a church in which the Hapsburgs, the former ruling family of Austria, are buried. It is said that when royal funerals finally arrive at the church for the burial rites, the mourners leading the funeral procession knock at the door to gain entrance. "Who is it that desires admission here?" a priest asks through the locked door. "His apostolic majesty, the emperor!" calls the guard. "I don't know him," answers the priest. A second knock follows and a similar question is asked. This time, the funeral guard announces the deceased as "the highest emperor." Again, "I don't know him," echoes throughout the vaulted burial chamber. Finally a third knock is heard. "Who is it?" "A poor sinner, your brother," comes the final answer. Then the door is opened and the royal burial completed.
The first step is to say the same about our condition, as does God. The first step is to confess that we are sinners. That admission opens the door to the new era dawned by God to forgiveness and restoration. With our confession of depravity, the process of wholeness begins.
Paul proceeds to proclaim that the death of Jesus upon the cross is the unique, unparalleled event by which and through which this deliverance occurs! They "are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented him as a sacrifice of atonement, through faith in his blood. He did this to demonstrate his justice, because in his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished -- he did it to demonstrate his justice at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus" (vv. 24-26 NIV). The death of Christ upon Calvary's tree is the pivotal event, the turning point in human history. Now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, God has taken the initiative, exhibited his boundless love, given his only son, and done for us that which we could never do for ourselves.
Alas and did my Savior bleed and did my sovereign die? Would he devote that sacred head for such a worm as I?
Yes, Virginia, there is a way out of our sordid state for "God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself" (2 Corinthians 5:19).
I can still remember, although I was very young at the time, watching my paternal grandmother make soap. I think that sometimes ashes are added to the mixture that eventually could make one clean. Isn't it odd of God to use destruction and death to provide the way by which we are cleansed? Our sinful ashes, confessed before God, combined with repentance (a 180-degree u-turn in the direction of our lives) and God's power is the plan by which every sinner's soul is cleansed and made whole. That is the gospel! Talk about good news!
This grace gift of God's goodness becomes ours when we receive through faith his loving offer and accept his punishment for ours. "Nothing in my hand I bring. Simply to thy cross I cling." It's the way! It's the only way for everyone!
As he creates us anew, old things have passed away, all things have become new, we embark upon the journey toward the goal, the target, the mark for which we have longed, that of being like Jesus. Our goal is nothing less than Christlikeness. It is the road to attaining an authentic life, a passionate spirituality, joy and freedom-giving forgiveness. It is the path toward fulfilling the potential God had in mind when he fashioned us. We are in the process of becoming truly human, just like Jesus.
Therefore, since God has treated us not as we deserve, but with grace, we are free to behave graciously toward others. Harold Warlick tells a beautiful story of a man by the name of Dapozzo. In 1943 Dapozzo was convicted by a Fascist tribunal. He was condemned to death, but because he had four children and a wife, he was given a term in the concentration camp. After eight months in the concentration camp, he weighed only eighty pounds. His left arm was broken and was left to mend without any medical attention. His body was covered with scars.
On Christmas Eve the commandant of the concentration camp punished him because he had shared his faith in Christ with the other prisoners. The commandant filled a beautiful table with the finest of foods and made Dapozzo stand for an hour while he feasted on all that was before him. After he had finished feasting, he brought out a small brown paper bag and said, "Dapozzo, your wife is a good cook. For several months she has been sending little cakes that she has baked for you, and I have eaten them all. And I will now eat the one she has recently sent to you."
Dapozzo then realized that that vile and cruel man was eating the food right out of his children's mouths. But his response was this, "You are a poor man. I am a rich man, because I am saved by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ." With that Dapozzo was angrily dismissed.
When the war was over, Dapozzo began searching for this evil and vile man. After ten years, he found him. He went to see him with a Protestant minister and a poorly disguised package. At first the commandant did not recognize this former prisoner. Dapozzo said, "Do you remember Prisoner 175?" The man did not. Dapozzo said, "Do you remember Christmas Eve, 1943?" and with that the man was horrified.
He backed up against the wall and said, "You have come to seek revenge!"
Dapozzo said, "Yes!" Then he unwrapped the package and asked the man's wife to make coffee, and they gathered around the table and ate the cake he had brought.3
____________
1. Fred B. Craddock, Preaching the New Common Lectionary (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1987), p. 30.
2. John R. Claypool, "Missing the Mark," an unpublished sermon preached at the Broadway Baptist Church, Fort Worth, Texas, May 2, 1976.
3. Harold L. Warlick, Homeward Bound (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Company, 1991), p. 117.
(from Smiling in the Dark, Sermons on the Second Readings, Series I, Cycle C [CSS Publishing Co., Inc.: Lima, Ohio], pp. 453-460)
Crazy Dreams
Stan Purdum
Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18
"Gee, Louise, you look pretty rough. And you're 20 minutes late, too." That was Alice's comment as her coworker finally got to her desk that Monday morning.
"I know," Louise said. "I didn't sleep very well again last night. And I decided to take the bus, and it was running a little behind."
"You rode the bus? How come? Your car in the shop?"
"No. I just thought it might be wise."
"You mean you're too sleepy to drive?"
"It's not that," Louise said, sighing. "You remember last week I told you I'd been having crazy dreams but couldn't remember what they were about when I woke up?"
"Sure."
"Well, for all three weekend nights, I've awakened remembering."
"This sound spooky," Alice said with a shiver.
"Well, it sort of is. And it's why I had trouble going back to sleep."
"Tell me more."
"All my dreams are about cars. In one of Friday night's dreams, I was driving along a road to some place I wanted to go. I don't know where it was, but I was looking forward to getting there. But then I hit mud hole and got stuck. I couldn't get the car free."
"Well, that would be a problem, I guess, but it doesn't sound that scary."
"Except that the whole car starting sinking into the mud hole, and I couldn't get out. The mud was just closing over the windows when I suddenly woke up."
"Oh. I see what you mean."
"Yes," said Louise, "but Saturday's dream as worse. I was driving a car in a race when the steering wheel came off in my hands. I couldn't get it back on and the car started careening all over the course. I woke up just before another car plowed into me."
"Ouch," said Alice.
"But last night's was worse yet. I was driving down busy street with all three of my kids in the car, and suddenly, I drove over a cliff! I woke up as we were falling. I could even hear the kids screaming."
"Ah. So you took the bus because you are afraid all that stuff about cars was a warning about an accident or something next time you drove?"
"Yes. It makes sense, doesn't it?"
"I'm not so sure. Maybe you should talk to somebody who knows something about what dreams mean."
"You know somebody like that?"
"It happens that I do. He's a psych professor where my husband teaches. I bet he'd be willing to talk to you if you asked."
Louise considered Alice suggestion and then said, "Maybe you're right. I don't want to keep putting in nights like these last ones. You have his number?"
A few days later, Louise and Alice were again talking in the office. Louise looked a lot better, and she had driven to work that morning.
"So what did Professor Benton say?" Alice asked.
"He said dreams are highly symbolic, and that the usually aren't literally about that things in the dreams themselves. So he said that my dreams about the cars probably have nothing to do with automobiles or accidents, but with something else altogether."
"Like what?"
"Like control. He said that if you dream of yourself in the driver's seat, you may mean that you see yourself as taking control of your life. But if, as in my dream, the car gets stuck in the mud, it may be symbolizing a feeling that I am are going nowhere, or that my life is in a rut."
"Does that fit you?"
"You bet."
"What about the crashes?"
"Yeah. That. Well, he said that dreaming that my car crashes could be my subconscious mind symbolizing that I feel my life is out of control."
"Wow. You look pretty calm for hearing all that."
"Well, I can't say it was good news," Louise said, "but it does fit how I've been feeling. And at least now I know I need to confront some stuff at home."
"So how'd you sleep last night?" Alice asked.
"Like a baby."
Stan Purdum is the pastor of Centenary United Methodist Church in Waynesburg, Ohio. He has served as the editor for the preaching journals Emphasis and Homiletics, and he has written extensively for both the religious and secular press. Purdum is the author of New Mercies I See (CSS) and He Walked in Galilee (Abingdon Press), as well as two accounts of his long-distance bicycle journeys, Roll Around Heaven All Day and Playing in Traffic.
Praise the Lord
David E. Leininger
Psalm 149
"Praise the Lord. Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise in the assembly of the saints." Nice words. Lovely doxology. But on All Saints Day? I wonder if the lectionary committee chose this psalm because of verses 4-5: "For the Lord takes delight in his people; he crowns the humble with salvation. Let the saints rejoice in this honor and sing for joy on their beds." Even deathbeds, perhaps.
Well, I long ago gave up on trying to understand the committee's rationales. As much as I wonder about a hymn of praise on a day when we remember... and grieve... friends and loved ones who have gone before, perhaps there is a point here. (More about that presently.)
I have been privileged to lead a long and generally blessed life. I have had the joy of knowing some wonderful people in ministry, plus the concomitant sorrow of saying good-bye for a while to many of them in death.
On a day like this, I think back to a weekend many years ago. It was the end of June. Summer had officially arrived; vacation season was approaching. It was particularly special for me because that weekend was the anniversary of the beginning of my tenure with a delightful North Carolina congregation. Three years into that relationship, I was going to reflect on the events that had brought us together and celebrate God's goodness in the process -- but I never got the chance.
Just after midnight on Saturday night, as I was putting the wraps on the next morning's message, the telephone rang. It was the police. They were calling to let me know the awful news about Ashley, a wonderful 14-year-old who had just been killed in an automobile accident. By the time folks gathered for worship the next morning, word had spread. Most of us were in shock. Most of us were in tears.
When it came time for worship, I scrapped the sermon I had prepared and instead shared a word that tried to convey my own belief that, even in the face of the worst that life slams our way, there is still hope -- all this is ultimately in the hands of a God who loved us so much that Jesus came and died that we might live. The word was not that because everything is so wonderful, I believe. No. The word was everything is not wonderful; nevertheless, I believe.
But the weekend was not over. After church we headed to the hospital. Dear Mildred, 67 years old, was very near death after a long and arduous bout with cancer. Mildred had been a wonderful friend to me and my family from the time we arrived in that community. Unfortunately, I had visited Mildred in the hospital on many occasions before this. She had been an inpatient at least a dozen times in the two years I had known her. This time I would not be going alone, though -- my family wanted to come, too -- especially my daughter Erin. Somehow those two had become incredibly close -- a 67-year-old and a 10-year-old... girlfriends. They went shopping together and had pajama parties. Erin called Mildred her "God-Grandmother." On the night table beside Erin's bed was one picture: her pal Mildred. Now, the end was near -- Mildred would be going home very soon.
An hour went by, then another and another. I left the hospital to go visit Ashley's family. My family stayed. I came back to the hospital. No change. "Erin, it's getting late," I asked. "Don't you want to go home, sweetie?"
"No. I don't want to go home until Mildred goes home."
Finally, about 7:30 that evening, with still no change and no indication when one might come, Erin agreed to leave. We had been home only a few minutes when the call came to let us know. It was over.
There was a certain amount of sanctified speculation that followed. The Bible gives us few details about the transition from earth to heaven, so there was wondering if Ashley and Mildred might run into each other in whatever "celestial lobby" there might be. ("Fancy meeting you here." "And you, too.") Could they have encountered one another while standing in line waiting for assignments, directions, wings, or whatever? Nah. Any of you who has ever been in the service or gone through a college registration knows that standing in line is Hell, not Heaven. So...
Now there were two funerals to prepare, and within a few hours there would be a third -- this one not for a member of the church but for a friend for whom I had provided pastoral care in recent months, and who had now succumbed after a long and painful illness. As every preacher knows, "it comes with the territory" -- like it or not.
The heart of my faith insists that this life is not all there is. One reason I believe, I admit, is that at a very deep level, I want to. Faith grows out of a subsoil of yearning, and something instinctive in human beings cries out against the reign of Death. Whether hope takes the form of Egyptian pharaohs stashing their jewels and chariots in pyramids, or the modern American obsession with keeping bodies alive until the last possible second regardless of how much suffering comes with it, we humans resist the idea of death having the final say. We want to believe otherwise.
So enter Psalm 149 on this All Saints Day. One day I will get those friends of mine back -- or they will get me back. It's all in the perspective. What can we say but, "Praise the Lord. Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise in the assembly of the saints."
David E. Leininger is the pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Warren, Pennsylvania. He is the author of Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Series VI, Cycle A), God of Justice: A Look at the Ten Commandments for the 21st Century, and A Color-Blind Church, his account of the intriguing match of two congregations -- one black, one white -- in a small community following the reunion of the northern and southern streams of the Presbyterian Church (USA) in 1983.
**********************************************
How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply email the story to us at storyshare@sermonsuite.com.
**************
StoryShare, October 28, 2007, issue and November 1, 2007 issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
What's Up This Week
"A Change of Heart" by Scott Dalgarno
"Targets and U-turns" by Gary L. Carver
"Crazy Dreams" by Stan Purdum
"Praise the Lord" by David Leininger
What's Up This Week
Control -- We all want it. We all crave, at some level, to feel as if we have the power, be it over a person, a situation, or even ourselves. While we all want control, should we always have it? When do we need to let go of control? What happens when we give up control? In "A Change of Heart," we see that giving up control of people around us can have amazing results. "Targets and U-turns" shows us that while we think we have control of ourselves and our spiritual destiny that control leads to destruction. Salvation requires us to give up control to one who is higher than we are. "Crazy Dreams" gives us an example of someone who feels that loss of control and must decide how to confront that situation. There are things beyond our control -- even death, as shown in "Praise the Lord."
* * * * * * * * *
A Change of Heart
Scott Dalgarno
Jeremiah 31:31-34
Carol Lee and Jerry hadn't been married long. They had lots of love but little money. Living in the city they took what they could get: a one bedroom, no parking, apartment in a neighborhood where it was Halloween ever day.
Sirens were ubiquitous and for every church there were six tattoo parlors. One of those was located right next door to their apartment house. Normally very accepting, Carol Lee was incensed by it. The place was busy until late every night. The people who showed up there were often loud, drunk, and even violent. Confrontations on the sidewalk in front of the place happened, it seemed, nightly. Carol Lee was livid. She'd walk all the way around the block to get to her apartment instead of taking a few steps to cross in front of the horrid shop.
"Come to bed," Jerry would insist, while Carol Lee would rip whoever she saw going in. This evening it looked like a single mother with two toddlers in tow. "That woman with the bleached blond hair obviously can't afford to feed her children and look, she's spending money on body art!"
When a man in their complex complained to the police about the noise, his Honda's tires were slashed. Things were getting bad. When Carol Lee brought up the parlor Jerry blew her off saying he wasn't getting involved and she better not either. His policy was simply, "Let's get the kind of jobs that'll pay us enough to get out of here." But Carol Lee couldn't think about that with little children suffering because of their mother's bad choices. She decided to do something that was entirely Carol Lee. She decided to get a tattoo.
Yep, she couldn't change them by hating them so she decided to get down and dirty with them. Maybe if she understood them better something would shift in her or maybe even in them. So, the question hung in the air: What kind of tattoo?
Carol Lee poured over books of quotations at the public library, She settled on something by Madame de Stael. Armed with her choice, she showed up on the doorstep of the shop. She got there near noon when they opened. It was much too early for them to be busy. She'd found the walls of the place covered with pictures of naked women, knives and axes dripping blood, Nazi art, Our Lady of Guadalupe, the American flag in various positions, and human skulls.
Carl, the proprietor, was putting some Japanese lettering down a young woman's lovely neck. Carol Lee admitted to herself that it was tasteful if not beautiful.
Another artist, Enrique, asked if he could help her. "Yes," she said. "I want a tattoo. No art, just simple lettering to go around my left wrist."
"Saying what?"
She handed him the piece of torn notebook paper with the quote: "Who understands much, forgives much."
"Why this?" he asked.
Because I live next door and you guys scare me with your fighting, and loud talk and scary customers," she said. "I want to understand you more so I can forgive you."
"Geez," said Enrique to Carl. "Dude, we got to stop fighting so much. We're scaring our neighbors."
Carl tried to downplay the problem but Carol Lee stopped him quickly, saying she wasn't there to complain. She just wanted to get a tattoo and get to know them a little bit while doing it.
That diffused everything. Carl smiled and Enrique laughed quietly and led Carol into the back where he opened a book of samples. He showed her a line from Hitler's Mein Kampf.
"No," said, Carol Lee, "I really want the quote about forgiveness."
Enrique really chuckled this time. "No," he said, "I'm not trying to get you to wear Nazi propaganda, but you still need to pick a writing design for me to copy."
Carol Lee laughed at her own ignorance. "Sure, sure, that's very nice. I'm sure it'd look less harsh in German."
In twenty minutes he was done and the words looked as delicate as her tiny wrist.
It seemed like overnight that Carl and Enrique became Carol Lee's best friends. She passed in front of their business many times every day now, waving and joking and showing everyone the lovely sentiment made even lovelier because she wore it with such pride.
The neighborhood changed, too. No more fights broke out, Enrique and Carl made sure the neighborhood was safe for all who lived there. Jerry and Carol would bring dinner down to the fellows and their families once a week or more. The bloody knives and swastikas disappeared from their walls and baskets of flowers now hung from the eaves of the business. People hardly recognize the place anymore. Police walked by now, shaking their heads.
Scott Dalgarno is pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Ashland, Oregon. He is also an adjunct professor at Southern Oregon University, where he teaches Film and Ethics. His poetry, essays, and stories have appeared in numerous publications, including The Christian Century, America: The National Catholic Weekly, The Antioch Review, and Alive Now.
Targets and U-turns
Gary Carver
Romans 3:19-28
His father had once served as the pastor of the largest Baptist church east of the Mississippi River. He asked me to go to the meeting with him. I replied that I would be honored. His name was John. I was privileged to accompany John to the meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous in which he received his pin for his first year of sobriety. When he addressed the group, his first words were, "My name is John and I am an alcoholic." It was my first A.A. meeting. I experienced as much church at that meeting as I have experienced in many church meetings. I was overwhelmed by the compassion and camaraderie.
As I left, and many times since I have wished that we would start every church gathering for worship or ministry and state, "My name is ___________ and I am a sinner!"
It is the foundation upon which the fellowship is formed. It is that which we have in common with each other. It is that which binds us together in the fellowship we call the church. It is the fact that we are sinners. We all are sinners! Any debate about that? Does anyone wish to counter -- to argue the point?
In 1966, I was privileged to hear the noted author and then pastor of the First Methodist Church in Houston, Texas, Dr. Charles Allen. He looked as if he were six feet nine inches tall and appeared as if he weighed 38 pounds. He had the longest southern drawl. It took him ten minutes to say anything! But when he did, it was well worth hearing. I was spellbound.
I shall never forget him saying, "Now, you can tell a man that he had diphtheria and it may be the truth. But it is not good news! You haven't told that man the good news until you tell him that there is a cure for diphtheria. You can tell a man that he is a sinner and that is the truth. But it is not the gospel! You haven't told that man the gospel until you tell him that there is a cure -- a remedy -- for his sin! That remedy is the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ. That's the gospel!"
That's the message that everyone wants to hear, needs to hear, because all have sinned! "But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known" (v. 21). There is good news! The gospel proclaims that God, through Christ, has provided a way out of our sinful state. There is forgiveness for all our sin because Christ has died for all sinners. No one does a better job in explaining this than does Paul in the book of Romans and in our text in particular.
Paul pronounces that God's righteousness now comes separate from the law. "Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced and the whole world held accountable to God. Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of sin" (vv. 19-20 NIV). God's righteousness, God's way of righting wrongs, now is manifest apart from rules, regulations, and religion. God's gift of putting us in right standing and relationships with him and others comes to us quite independently of the law.
Of course, the law has its purpose to make us conscious of wrong (v. 20). Because of the law, we are aware that we exist in sin -- a state or condition of sin! Because we are in sin, we commit sins, acts of commission and omission. We do things that we should not do and fail to do things we should do because we are sinners.
Karl Barth in his 1918 Commentary on Romans emphasized that we must hear the "No!" of God. We must hear God's no to all our sins and to all our own efforts to make ourselves right! There is nothing we can do, in ourselves, to rectify our sinful situation.
Abraham was a good man. He heard God's voice, left home for a place he knew not where, and even believed God's absurd promise that he and Sarah would produce an heir. He was a good man, but not good enough! Noah was a good man. He built an ark on dry land, heeded God's warning, and preserved the race. He was a good man, but not good enough! Moses was a good man. He overcame his own lack of confidence and speech problems to become God's spokesperson to free the Hebrew people. He was a good man, but not good enough! Samson was a good man. He became God's warrior, mighty in battle. He was a good man, but not good enough!
David was a good man! He was a successful king, prepared for the building of the temple, and even authored many of the Psalms. He was a good man, but not good enough! John the Baptist was a good man! He was the greatest of prophets, the Elijah-like forerunner of the Messiah. He even baptized Jesus! He was a good man, but not good enough! Mary was a good woman. She had the incredible audacity to believe upon the word of an angel that a virgin could have a baby. Indeed, she was the mother of Jesus! She was a good woman, but not good enough! Paul was a good man. He was the most devout of Jews, the most missionary of Christians and the very writer of the text that awes and inspires us today. He was a good man, but not good enough! Even with the very best, there can be no claim to sufficiency.
A country music song sung by Trace Atkins titled "I'm Trying!" woefully recalls the excellent advice given to him by significant adults, all of which he had been unable to keep and can only lament, "I'm trying!" Paul says that trying has nothing to do with it. He would agree with Mae West when she admitted that "goodness has nothing to do with it!" Now, God rights our wrongs completely independent of our ability or inability to keep the law.
Paul continues to add that faith in Jesus is the new way of experiencing God's just righting of wrongs. "But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify" (v. 21 NIV). "But now!" But now, a new era has begun. A new age has dawned. God now deals with us in a new way. Jesus Christ is now the new point of entry into God's reconciling love as well as the lens through which it is focused.1 Because we cannot, God can and does through Jesus Christ.
Paul develops his polemic by adding that all must experience this new way of righting wrong because all have sinned. "This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (vv. 22-23 NIV). All of us are sinners. Each one of us has sinned. Created in the image of God to be truly human, we have sinned. We willfully and deliberately have chosen our own fate of alienation from God and its subsequent death. Rather than obey God and live in fellowship with him, we have stubbornly and defiantly disobeyed God, sealing our separated state.
It is not a matter of degrees, whether one is a big sinner or little sinner. It is not a matter of rearing, whether one had a more conducive environment or not! It is not a matter of intelligence, whether one knew better or not! It is a matter of fact that we all are in the same boat. We have no excuse! We are all sinners and each one of us has sinned.
There are many words translated sin in the Bible, at least ten in the New Testament. In the Old Testament, the major emphasis is upon the word transgression or trespass. "Trans" means to "go through." Here the connotation is predominantly to go through one of God's red lights. God has established laws, the Ten Commandments and others, and to sin means that we have broken the rules, disobeyed the law, therefore we must suffer the punishment. Jesus expanded the concept of sin to go beyond the categories of commission and omission and described sin as "missing the mark," an archery term. Jesus used the word hamartia (it is found in the Old Testament, as well) to emphasize that we have missed the target -- the mark -- the goal, purpose, or vision that God has for us. We are not the dream God dreamed for us when he gave us life. Frank Stagg points out that his word also carries accompanying guilt and punishment.
John Claypool says there are at least two ways that we "miss the mark" of God's intention for our lives. One way we miss the mark of God's intention is to seek to be more than we are. This is the self-chosen path of arrogance or aggressiveness wherein we ignore or deny our own limitations and get beyond our own boundaries. Claypool named Adolf Hitler as a vile example of one who aggressively ignored his own limitations. Reading the Nihilistic philosophy of Frederick Neitzche, he fashioned himself as a member of a superhuman master race whose supposed superiority should give them rule of the world. God, if there was one, sought to hold down humankind. The supermen were above restraint, morality, and even deity himself, thought Hitler. And millions paid with their lives for his crazed idiocy.
The ancient Greeks had a word for it! It was the word hubris, sometimes translated pride or the tendency man has to try to go beyond himself, to try to be more than he is, to try to be God.
Claypool noted another way we can miss the mark of God's intention. This is when we slink into being less that we are. This is the self-chosen path of apathy, timidity, or irresponsibility wherein we lazily shirk our obligations and have no sense of ought, must, or should. Dr. Claypool names another Adolf as an example of such callousness -- Adolf Eichmann, the conscience-less puppet in charge of the "final solution of the Jewish problem." At the Nuremberg trials, when faced with the responsibility of the murder of millions, this tragically apathetic mouse of a man only shrugged lamely and said, "I was just doing what I was told to do." Here was a spineless bureaucrat who took orders and never once questioned or altered their maniacal purposes or deadly consequences. To get along, he went along and thought nothing of it. Eichmann definitely was less than God created him to be and created untold privation as a result.2
Harvey Cox, arguably America's greatest theologian, reminds us that in some sense the sin of Adam and Eve was that of apathy. It was easy just to let the serpent tell them what to do rather than show some spunk, take a stand, hold a conviction, exhibit some fortitude, and stick to one's guns. And yes, they, too, received a lasting punishment for their disobedience and for being less than God created them to be. We can miss the mark of God's intention by being more or less than we are.
What we are or were before we sinned, what God created us to be is to be truly human. It was Kierkegaard who said that the essence of sin is the steadfast refusal to be one's own true self. So, we all are sinners. We, each one, have committed sins and have tried to be more or less than we are, than God created us to be. Created in the image of God, our loving Lord fashioned us to be truly human, as was Jesus. And we fall woefully short.
Is there any way out? There is a first step. The wonderful Roman Catholic storyteller, William Bausch, relates: In Vienna, Austria, you will find a church in which the Hapsburgs, the former ruling family of Austria, are buried. It is said that when royal funerals finally arrive at the church for the burial rites, the mourners leading the funeral procession knock at the door to gain entrance. "Who is it that desires admission here?" a priest asks through the locked door. "His apostolic majesty, the emperor!" calls the guard. "I don't know him," answers the priest. A second knock follows and a similar question is asked. This time, the funeral guard announces the deceased as "the highest emperor." Again, "I don't know him," echoes throughout the vaulted burial chamber. Finally a third knock is heard. "Who is it?" "A poor sinner, your brother," comes the final answer. Then the door is opened and the royal burial completed.
The first step is to say the same about our condition, as does God. The first step is to confess that we are sinners. That admission opens the door to the new era dawned by God to forgiveness and restoration. With our confession of depravity, the process of wholeness begins.
Paul proceeds to proclaim that the death of Jesus upon the cross is the unique, unparalleled event by which and through which this deliverance occurs! They "are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented him as a sacrifice of atonement, through faith in his blood. He did this to demonstrate his justice, because in his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished -- he did it to demonstrate his justice at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus" (vv. 24-26 NIV). The death of Christ upon Calvary's tree is the pivotal event, the turning point in human history. Now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, God has taken the initiative, exhibited his boundless love, given his only son, and done for us that which we could never do for ourselves.
Alas and did my Savior bleed and did my sovereign die? Would he devote that sacred head for such a worm as I?
Yes, Virginia, there is a way out of our sordid state for "God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself" (2 Corinthians 5:19).
I can still remember, although I was very young at the time, watching my paternal grandmother make soap. I think that sometimes ashes are added to the mixture that eventually could make one clean. Isn't it odd of God to use destruction and death to provide the way by which we are cleansed? Our sinful ashes, confessed before God, combined with repentance (a 180-degree u-turn in the direction of our lives) and God's power is the plan by which every sinner's soul is cleansed and made whole. That is the gospel! Talk about good news!
This grace gift of God's goodness becomes ours when we receive through faith his loving offer and accept his punishment for ours. "Nothing in my hand I bring. Simply to thy cross I cling." It's the way! It's the only way for everyone!
As he creates us anew, old things have passed away, all things have become new, we embark upon the journey toward the goal, the target, the mark for which we have longed, that of being like Jesus. Our goal is nothing less than Christlikeness. It is the road to attaining an authentic life, a passionate spirituality, joy and freedom-giving forgiveness. It is the path toward fulfilling the potential God had in mind when he fashioned us. We are in the process of becoming truly human, just like Jesus.
Therefore, since God has treated us not as we deserve, but with grace, we are free to behave graciously toward others. Harold Warlick tells a beautiful story of a man by the name of Dapozzo. In 1943 Dapozzo was convicted by a Fascist tribunal. He was condemned to death, but because he had four children and a wife, he was given a term in the concentration camp. After eight months in the concentration camp, he weighed only eighty pounds. His left arm was broken and was left to mend without any medical attention. His body was covered with scars.
On Christmas Eve the commandant of the concentration camp punished him because he had shared his faith in Christ with the other prisoners. The commandant filled a beautiful table with the finest of foods and made Dapozzo stand for an hour while he feasted on all that was before him. After he had finished feasting, he brought out a small brown paper bag and said, "Dapozzo, your wife is a good cook. For several months she has been sending little cakes that she has baked for you, and I have eaten them all. And I will now eat the one she has recently sent to you."
Dapozzo then realized that that vile and cruel man was eating the food right out of his children's mouths. But his response was this, "You are a poor man. I am a rich man, because I am saved by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ." With that Dapozzo was angrily dismissed.
When the war was over, Dapozzo began searching for this evil and vile man. After ten years, he found him. He went to see him with a Protestant minister and a poorly disguised package. At first the commandant did not recognize this former prisoner. Dapozzo said, "Do you remember Prisoner 175?" The man did not. Dapozzo said, "Do you remember Christmas Eve, 1943?" and with that the man was horrified.
He backed up against the wall and said, "You have come to seek revenge!"
Dapozzo said, "Yes!" Then he unwrapped the package and asked the man's wife to make coffee, and they gathered around the table and ate the cake he had brought.3
____________
1. Fred B. Craddock, Preaching the New Common Lectionary (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1987), p. 30.
2. John R. Claypool, "Missing the Mark," an unpublished sermon preached at the Broadway Baptist Church, Fort Worth, Texas, May 2, 1976.
3. Harold L. Warlick, Homeward Bound (Lima, Ohio: CSS Publishing Company, 1991), p. 117.
(from Smiling in the Dark, Sermons on the Second Readings, Series I, Cycle C [CSS Publishing Co., Inc.: Lima, Ohio], pp. 453-460)
Crazy Dreams
Stan Purdum
Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18
"Gee, Louise, you look pretty rough. And you're 20 minutes late, too." That was Alice's comment as her coworker finally got to her desk that Monday morning.
"I know," Louise said. "I didn't sleep very well again last night. And I decided to take the bus, and it was running a little behind."
"You rode the bus? How come? Your car in the shop?"
"No. I just thought it might be wise."
"You mean you're too sleepy to drive?"
"It's not that," Louise said, sighing. "You remember last week I told you I'd been having crazy dreams but couldn't remember what they were about when I woke up?"
"Sure."
"Well, for all three weekend nights, I've awakened remembering."
"This sound spooky," Alice said with a shiver.
"Well, it sort of is. And it's why I had trouble going back to sleep."
"Tell me more."
"All my dreams are about cars. In one of Friday night's dreams, I was driving along a road to some place I wanted to go. I don't know where it was, but I was looking forward to getting there. But then I hit mud hole and got stuck. I couldn't get the car free."
"Well, that would be a problem, I guess, but it doesn't sound that scary."
"Except that the whole car starting sinking into the mud hole, and I couldn't get out. The mud was just closing over the windows when I suddenly woke up."
"Oh. I see what you mean."
"Yes," said Louise, "but Saturday's dream as worse. I was driving a car in a race when the steering wheel came off in my hands. I couldn't get it back on and the car started careening all over the course. I woke up just before another car plowed into me."
"Ouch," said Alice.
"But last night's was worse yet. I was driving down busy street with all three of my kids in the car, and suddenly, I drove over a cliff! I woke up as we were falling. I could even hear the kids screaming."
"Ah. So you took the bus because you are afraid all that stuff about cars was a warning about an accident or something next time you drove?"
"Yes. It makes sense, doesn't it?"
"I'm not so sure. Maybe you should talk to somebody who knows something about what dreams mean."
"You know somebody like that?"
"It happens that I do. He's a psych professor where my husband teaches. I bet he'd be willing to talk to you if you asked."
Louise considered Alice suggestion and then said, "Maybe you're right. I don't want to keep putting in nights like these last ones. You have his number?"
A few days later, Louise and Alice were again talking in the office. Louise looked a lot better, and she had driven to work that morning.
"So what did Professor Benton say?" Alice asked.
"He said dreams are highly symbolic, and that the usually aren't literally about that things in the dreams themselves. So he said that my dreams about the cars probably have nothing to do with automobiles or accidents, but with something else altogether."
"Like what?"
"Like control. He said that if you dream of yourself in the driver's seat, you may mean that you see yourself as taking control of your life. But if, as in my dream, the car gets stuck in the mud, it may be symbolizing a feeling that I am are going nowhere, or that my life is in a rut."
"Does that fit you?"
"You bet."
"What about the crashes?"
"Yeah. That. Well, he said that dreaming that my car crashes could be my subconscious mind symbolizing that I feel my life is out of control."
"Wow. You look pretty calm for hearing all that."
"Well, I can't say it was good news," Louise said, "but it does fit how I've been feeling. And at least now I know I need to confront some stuff at home."
"So how'd you sleep last night?" Alice asked.
"Like a baby."
Stan Purdum is the pastor of Centenary United Methodist Church in Waynesburg, Ohio. He has served as the editor for the preaching journals Emphasis and Homiletics, and he has written extensively for both the religious and secular press. Purdum is the author of New Mercies I See (CSS) and He Walked in Galilee (Abingdon Press), as well as two accounts of his long-distance bicycle journeys, Roll Around Heaven All Day and Playing in Traffic.
Praise the Lord
David E. Leininger
Psalm 149
"Praise the Lord. Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise in the assembly of the saints." Nice words. Lovely doxology. But on All Saints Day? I wonder if the lectionary committee chose this psalm because of verses 4-5: "For the Lord takes delight in his people; he crowns the humble with salvation. Let the saints rejoice in this honor and sing for joy on their beds." Even deathbeds, perhaps.
Well, I long ago gave up on trying to understand the committee's rationales. As much as I wonder about a hymn of praise on a day when we remember... and grieve... friends and loved ones who have gone before, perhaps there is a point here. (More about that presently.)
I have been privileged to lead a long and generally blessed life. I have had the joy of knowing some wonderful people in ministry, plus the concomitant sorrow of saying good-bye for a while to many of them in death.
On a day like this, I think back to a weekend many years ago. It was the end of June. Summer had officially arrived; vacation season was approaching. It was particularly special for me because that weekend was the anniversary of the beginning of my tenure with a delightful North Carolina congregation. Three years into that relationship, I was going to reflect on the events that had brought us together and celebrate God's goodness in the process -- but I never got the chance.
Just after midnight on Saturday night, as I was putting the wraps on the next morning's message, the telephone rang. It was the police. They were calling to let me know the awful news about Ashley, a wonderful 14-year-old who had just been killed in an automobile accident. By the time folks gathered for worship the next morning, word had spread. Most of us were in shock. Most of us were in tears.
When it came time for worship, I scrapped the sermon I had prepared and instead shared a word that tried to convey my own belief that, even in the face of the worst that life slams our way, there is still hope -- all this is ultimately in the hands of a God who loved us so much that Jesus came and died that we might live. The word was not that because everything is so wonderful, I believe. No. The word was everything is not wonderful; nevertheless, I believe.
But the weekend was not over. After church we headed to the hospital. Dear Mildred, 67 years old, was very near death after a long and arduous bout with cancer. Mildred had been a wonderful friend to me and my family from the time we arrived in that community. Unfortunately, I had visited Mildred in the hospital on many occasions before this. She had been an inpatient at least a dozen times in the two years I had known her. This time I would not be going alone, though -- my family wanted to come, too -- especially my daughter Erin. Somehow those two had become incredibly close -- a 67-year-old and a 10-year-old... girlfriends. They went shopping together and had pajama parties. Erin called Mildred her "God-Grandmother." On the night table beside Erin's bed was one picture: her pal Mildred. Now, the end was near -- Mildred would be going home very soon.
An hour went by, then another and another. I left the hospital to go visit Ashley's family. My family stayed. I came back to the hospital. No change. "Erin, it's getting late," I asked. "Don't you want to go home, sweetie?"
"No. I don't want to go home until Mildred goes home."
Finally, about 7:30 that evening, with still no change and no indication when one might come, Erin agreed to leave. We had been home only a few minutes when the call came to let us know. It was over.
There was a certain amount of sanctified speculation that followed. The Bible gives us few details about the transition from earth to heaven, so there was wondering if Ashley and Mildred might run into each other in whatever "celestial lobby" there might be. ("Fancy meeting you here." "And you, too.") Could they have encountered one another while standing in line waiting for assignments, directions, wings, or whatever? Nah. Any of you who has ever been in the service or gone through a college registration knows that standing in line is Hell, not Heaven. So...
Now there were two funerals to prepare, and within a few hours there would be a third -- this one not for a member of the church but for a friend for whom I had provided pastoral care in recent months, and who had now succumbed after a long and painful illness. As every preacher knows, "it comes with the territory" -- like it or not.
The heart of my faith insists that this life is not all there is. One reason I believe, I admit, is that at a very deep level, I want to. Faith grows out of a subsoil of yearning, and something instinctive in human beings cries out against the reign of Death. Whether hope takes the form of Egyptian pharaohs stashing their jewels and chariots in pyramids, or the modern American obsession with keeping bodies alive until the last possible second regardless of how much suffering comes with it, we humans resist the idea of death having the final say. We want to believe otherwise.
So enter Psalm 149 on this All Saints Day. One day I will get those friends of mine back -- or they will get me back. It's all in the perspective. What can we say but, "Praise the Lord. Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise in the assembly of the saints."
David E. Leininger is the pastor of First Presbyterian Church in Warren, Pennsylvania. He is the author of Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit (Series VI, Cycle A), God of Justice: A Look at the Ten Commandments for the 21st Century, and A Color-Blind Church, his account of the intriguing match of two congregations -- one black, one white -- in a small community following the reunion of the northern and southern streams of the Presbyterian Church (USA) in 1983.
**********************************************
How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply email the story to us at storyshare@sermonsuite.com.
**************
StoryShare, October 28, 2007, issue and November 1, 2007 issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
