Chris Taylor’s Sermon –11/2/08
What’s It Worth?
1 Thessalonians 2:9-13
This morning, in just a few minutes, we pause to remember those of our church family who died this past year, and then go on to that sacrament which points to that day when all will be reunited in the presence of our God. It is a powerful combination; this act of remembering and celebration of the sacrament. It is something that you, as a congregation, have taught to me.
We’ve always had Services of Remembrance in the congregations I’ve served, but up until now it has always been part of our Annual Meeting. Here, you’ve had a different tradition, and I’ve come to love it – love what we do this first Sunday of November; love the way this particular service causes us to take hold of God’s breathtaking promise of all eternity through Jesus Christ.
That’s part of what Paul is talking about here in our text this morning; it is what his reference to the “kingdom and glory” in the 12th verse means – not just that taste of God’s kingdom that you and I can know here and now through Jesus Christ; but also and specifically, that day when God’s kingdom will be fully realized; that moment when nothing will separate us from God and God’s glory; that moment when darkness and death will be no more.
What does it mean to lead a life worthy of this God? At one level it means living in a way that is consistent with God’s very nature. That’s what we see of Paul here in our text: working night and day so that he might not be a burden to these Thessalonians, loving them with the same kind of love a father bears towards his children. But at another level it also means embracing the hope that God has given us – this promise of eternity – and holding on to this hope in such a way that penetrates every facet of our being from our greatest fears to our deepest sorrows.
Two weeks after the death of his twenty-four year old son in a car accident, the late Rev. William Sloan Coffin spoke to his congregation: “The reality of grief is the solitude of pain, the feeling that your heart’s in pieces, your mind’s a blank, that ‘there’s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away’ (Lord Byron).” He continues,
When parents die, as did my mother last month, they take with them a large portion of the past. But when children die, they take away the future as well. That is what makes the valley of the shadow of death seem so incredibly dark and unending.
Coffin knew what we, ourselves, have experienced: our faith doesn’t take away the grief or sorrow. What it offers, rather, is something to hold onto. What it offers is a source of comfort and consolation and hope even in the midst of it all. “God is dead set against all unnatural deaths,” Coffin said. “My own consolation lies in knowing that it was not the will of God that Alex die; that when the waves closed over the sinking car, God’s heart was the first of all our hearts to break.”
And of course I know, even when pain is deep, that God is good. “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Yes, but at least, “My God, my God”; and the psalm only begins that way, it doesn’t end that way…
And finally I know that when Alex beat me to the grave, the finish line was not Boston Harbor in the middle of the night. If a week ago last Monday a lamp went out, it was because, for him at least, the Dawn had come.
It is a powerful image – this picture of those we have loved moving towards the dawn of God’s presence and love. That’s the promise God offers in Christ; this assurance of all eternity. There is so much more than our ten or fifty or 100 years here (years that no matter what their length seem almost insignificant there on that broad spectrum of eternity). There is this whole new life that is wrapped around us, this new birth that one day all of us will know.
Earlier this week, as I was talking to Doug Bradbury about this message, he reminded me of a wonderful scene in the movie adaptation of Return of the King, the third in Tokien’s great trilogy. The forces of Mordor have swept through the capital of Gondor. Pippin, the hobbit, and Gandalf, the wizard, have taken refuge along with a few remaining soldiers behind the massive doors of the citadel. The enemy is literally hammering at the door, and everyone knows it won’t be much longer. Everyone knows that the end is near.
Pippin turns towards Gandalf, “I didn’t think it would end this way.”
“End?” Gandalf replies, “The journey doesn’t end here… Death is just another path. One that we all must take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it.”
“What Gandalf? See what?”
“White shores and beyond a far green country under a swift sunrise.”
“Well, that isn’t so bad,” Pippin offers. “No,” Gandalf replies. “No, it isn’t.”
That’s the hope we take hold of today: that death is not the end – that in and through Jesus Christ there is this great and beautiful life which lies beyond. In his Revelation, the Apostle spoke of that day, yet to come, when there will be no more sorrow or crying or pain; that day when God himself will wipe the tears from our eyes (Rev. 21:3, 4). It is going to happen! That’s the promise of these pages. Jesus, himself, told us,
In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also (John 14:2,3).
Here is the hope that is worthy of God’s call: Death does not have the final word! Jesus has thrown wide the doors of all eternity, and offered us a glimpse of that which is to come. In him, you and I can be sure that we will see again those that we must leave behind some day, and see again those who have left us behind, as well. Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through Jesus Christ, the Lord!
William Sloane Coffin, The Collected Sermons: The Riverside Years, vol. 2, (Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2008), pp. 3-6