Monday, November 28, 2011

The good of inconvenience

The say death comes in threes – if that’s the case, I’m good for a while.  I’ve taken part, in one way or another, in three funerals in the last few weeks.

As a pastor, I get a unique view of these events. I get called to the hospital to sit with a man as he watches his wife pass away. I get called by a family when their loved-one who has been battling cancer for years finally ends the battle. I get to sit with my wife when a close family friend passes away. 

I also get to be the one to proclaim a word of hope in the midst of sorrow. I get to be the one that asks the difficult questions about what scriptures were important in a loved one’s life.

I get to be the one who witnesses love shared by friends and families. I get to be the one who watches loved ones laugh and cry as they remember their love one who has just passed away.

I also get a lot of quiet time to watch and contemplate death. 

At a recent funeral I was talking with the funeral director about that very fact. I think more than anyone funeral directors contemplate death since they face it every day – not in an unhealthy way (though for some it may be) but in a way that they are constantly reminded that we all are on a journey in life and no matter what science discovers and finds there is no changing the fact that our journey through this world ends in death.

As I thought about death recently I discovered how very inconvenient it tends to be. 

Death doesn’t wait for us to make all of our arrangements. Death doesn’t make sure our calendar is clear of other engagements. Death doesn’t allow us to make travel plans in enough time to get the best discounts and rates. Death doesn’t always allow for us to say goodbye to those we love and care about. 

Yet, in the face of the inconveniences of death, we drop the less important and replace them with the more important.  We drive across country to be with the ones we love. We cancel appointments and pass on opportunities that conflict with the scheduling of funerals. We don’t worry about the details, there’s always tomorrow for that. We simply run to the people that are important to us and we spend time with them – often doing nothing more than sitting together and being present.

As I think about it, maybe the best thing that death does for us is help us to re-prioritize our lives. It helps us to finally say no to things that we don’t really need to be part of. It helps us to remember that family and friends are important and they won’t always be with us.

In a 24/7 world where the stores are open for our every whim, where our calendars are beyond full because of all of the “important” things we need to accomplish, it is probably good for death to enter our lives at inconvenient times to remind us that being inconvenienced is good.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Life, death, and Christ’s Resurrection

Since Easter Sunday I have been given many opportunities to ponder life and death.  It seems to be all around us.  With the spring season comes new life – animals are born into nature, trees and flowers bloom, people are invigorated by the changing season.  It seems logical that the Christian church celebrates Easter in just such a setting because of the new birth that comes to us in Christ’s resurrection.

In the midst of this newness of life, we still encounter the inevitable reality of death.  On Wednesday massive storms ripped through the Southeast leaving many dead in their wake.  Houses were destroyed, personal property damaged, limbs ripped from trees. The fragile new life in nature met nature’s most powerful force.

Over the weekend I was informed of multiple deaths that touched our congregation.  One was a pastor who had served here as an interim minister a number of years ago, the other was a man who as a child had been a charter member of the congregation.  Both had lived very full and meaningful lives and were called home to be with God leaving in their absence family members trying to make sense of a new way of living.

Last night I became aware of the news that Osama Bin Laden had been killed by US Forces.  I’m not sure what my reaction to such news is.  Bin Laden has certainly been behind his share of terror and inhumane action, but does that give someone else the right (or duty) to take his life?  As I ponder this question, I recall Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his role in the failed plot to assassinate Hitler.  Reflecting on his role Bonhoeffer writes:

"the ultimate question for a responsible man to ask is not how he is to extricate himself heroically from the affair, but how the coming generation shall continue to live."

"when a man takes guilt upon himself in responsibility, he imputes his guilt to himself and no one else. He answers for it...Before other men he is justified by dire necessity; before himself he is acquitted by his conscience, but before God he hopes only for grace."

“the blood of martyrs might once again be demanded, but this blood, if we really have the courage and loyalty to shed it, will not be innocent, shining like that of the first witnesses for the faith. On our blood lies heavy guilt, the guilt of the unprofitable servant who is cast into outer darkness.”

I can only wonder what is currently going through the minds of those who were ordered to carry out the killing of Bin Laden.  I can only wonder what goes through the mind of President Obama as he considers his role in bringing a man to death.  I can only wonder what the real ramifications of this very visible death will be. 

I imagine that Bin Laden might be the criminal who was hung to die next to Jesus.  I’m not sure if he is the criminal who asked Jesus to remember him or if he is the criminal who derided the one who asked Jesus to remember him.  But I trust that if even Osama Bin Laden asked Jesus to remember him in the Kingdom, Jesus’ answer would be, “today, you will be with me in paradise.”

Friday, April 22, 2011

Good Friday

In a rare move on my part, I actually wrote out the entire manuscript of my sermon for the Good Friday service (yes, I seem to have channeled a bit of Rob Bell’s formatting style). I have included it here:


Good Friday, April 22, 2011


John 18 -19:42


I remember sitting in the pews of the church I grew up in.


I can vividly see the sunlight cascading through the skylight.


I recall the honey-oak finish of the pews, their hardness that somehow seemed comfortable.


I can hear the call of the organ from the speakers behind the “faux” pipes on the walls.


I could tell you which pew “belonged” to our family – we sat there every week – until they removed it to make room for the “music loft”.


I remember the Pastors who led worship – they would enter from the back, with regal formality which later gave way to a casual reverence, dressed in their robes.


I remember the beautiful paraments that stretched from floor to ceiling – 40-feet in the air!


I can see myself sitting there through the years, singing hymns, listening to prayers, watching the “family” that I grew up around telling the story of Jesus.


I remember how practices changed over time.
How the Communion Elements which used to be processed to the altar with the offering started appearing on the altar when worship began
How the men who used to all wear suits began losing the jacket, then dressing in slacks and polos and then jeans
How the acolytes used to light different candles at different times of the service then they began lighting them all at the same time.


And none of it had any real meaning.


It was all just stuff


Until


Good Friday


I was maybe 7 years old.


I don’t remember what the pastor said,
all I remember is my reaction.


I remember crying uncontrollably.
Weeping.


I remember my mom reaching down to ask me what was wrong –


- I couldn’t answer her,
I didn’t know how to answer her


All I know is that at that moment I realized


JESUS DIED FOR ME


Not nameless humanity


ME


It didn’t matter that Jesus died for my parents, my brother, my friend Jim, for Shirley, Dick, or Pat


JESUS DIED FOR ME


The colors of the worship center can fade from my memory, but I will always know deep in my heart that Jesus Died for me


Until we own our relationship with our Saviour, the one who died on a cross for us, we can easily get caught up in a lot of attitudes, a lot of details, a lot of stuff.


We think that the color of the carpet makes a difference.


We think that by dropping some food in the box for the food pantry we’ve done enough to help the hungry.


We think that our translation of the Bible is the only one.


We feel hassled when we are asked to donate clothes and blankets for the homeless.


We think that music of our preferred style is the most important.


We think that if people don’t agree, then they are going to hell, or at least not to the same heaven we are


We think that by paying taxes that provide a hospital we’ve done enough for the sick.


But when we own our relationship with our Saviour, all of that STUFF drifts away.


When we own our relationship with our Saviour, our attitudes change.


When we realize that Jesus Christ died on a cross for YOU and ME, not a nameless humanity, nothing else matters – and we begin to live differently.


When we come to terms with the idea that Jesus cares enough for each individual that he
knows us by name,
knows what food we like,
knows what color we like,
knows the good we’ve done,
and also knows the times we failed
and despite all of that – CHOSE to die anyway
we look at the world differently.


It fundamentally changes WHO we ARE and HOW we live.


Some may call them rose colored glasses.
And maybe that is true
– because when we take the crucifixion seriously our vision is stained
by the blood of Jesus who was willing
to take our place on a cross so that we don’t have to experience
the full pain,
the full suffering,
the full shame
or the full humiliation of our sin.


And we begin to live in a way that proclaims a hope that no one else has to either.


Amen.