One Sunday morning, many years ago, a neatly dressed woman
disrupted the worship service in my home church. She stood up in
the gallery in the middle of my father's sermon and announced in
a clear, loud voice, "I have a word from the Lord." As might you
might imagine, she was quickly hustled out by the ever-vigilant
ushers. We learned later that she had just been released from an
institution and was still running a quart low on reality. Too
bad. It might have been kind to hear her out, but we
Presbyterians do things "decently and in order" - we have little
tolerance for the unconventional or unexpected. We like a place
for everything and everything in its place.
The late Lloyd C. Douglas, the author of The Robe, tells
that he once asked an old music teacher, "Well, what's the good
news today?" The old man went over to a tuning fork suspended by
a chord, struck it with a mallet and said, "That, my friend, is
an "A." It was "A" all day yesterday. It will be "A" all day
tomorrow, next week and for a thousand years. The soprano
upstairs warbles off-key, the tenor next door flats on his high
ones, and the piano across the hall is out of tune. But that,
striking the tuning fork once again, is "A." And that, my
friend, is the good news for today."(1) Sounds VERY Presbyterian,
doesn't he?
There are times I think God is a Presbyterian. We live in a
very ordered world. When our feet left the bed this morning they
ended up on the floor, not the ceiling. When we came to worship,
we avoided running into utility poles because we knew they would
not bend. In looking back at the year that separates this Easter
from last, the landscape is dominated by strange sights - George
W. Bush is president, but his opponent received more votes; the
United States Senate is evenly divided - 50-50 - Republicans are
in control because Vice President Cheney casts tie-breaking
votes, but if Strom Thurmond's number comes up...; Slobodan
Milosovic is in jail; Saddam Hussein is not. Go figure. But,
political regimes come and go. They always have, always will.
God must be Presbyterian.
There are other times I am not so sure though. It was
almost midnight on a Saturday night several years ago. My phone
rang. The police. One of the neatest 14-year-olds I ever knew
was dead. Car accident. Worship for our congregation that next
morning was, to say the least, different.
After church that day, I went to the hospital. One of the
neatest 68-year-olds I ever knew was near the end. Cancer. By
nightfall, she too was gone. Two very special people...within
twenty-four hours of each other.
Nowhere in scripture is there any detail given concerning
what happens as we make that final crossing. Is there some sort
of "Central Receiving?" Does heaven have a registration lobby
just behind the Pearly Gates where accommodations are arranged?
Where they issue harps and fit you for wings? Did Ashley and
Mildred run into each other in the lobby?
"What are you doing here?"
"What are YOU doing here?"
I know that death is as inevitable as the taxes due
tomorrow, but some deaths do not seem to be the way for a
Presbyterian God to allow things. Woody Allen once asked, "If
there is a God, why is there poverty and baldness?" We might not
be so flippant in our questioning, but we DO have our questions.
I am sure that the disciples had questions. For three years
they had walked and talked with Jesus. They had seen him
befriend the outcast, heal the sick, even raise the dead. They
had seen him confront the provincial authorities and come out on
top every time. They heard him speak of a Kingdom and assumed
that he would be the one to lead Israel to victory over Rome.
They had hitched their dreams to this shooting star only to see
them come crashing down on a hill called Calvary. It was not a
very Presbyterian day. Of course, they had questions. Just like
ours.
I would dearly love to be able to answer all those questions
this morning but I cannot. Instead, I will ask you to use your
imagination with me for a moment. We who are the spiritual heirs
of Jesus' friends have gathered for worship two days after
remembering Calvary. We sing our hymns and pray our prayers. We
are ready to hear a sermon when suddenly, a voice comes from the
gallery saying, "I have a word from the Lord."
No, this time, instead of the intruder getting the bum's
rush, he is allowed to continue. He says, "First, a brief
illustration. Recently a man came out of his home one morning to
find the trunk of his car smashed in. He was relieved to see a
note on the windshield. It read, `As I am writing this, five
people who saw me hit your car are watching me. They think I am
giving you my name, address, phone, license number, and insurance
company. I'm not! Have a nice day.'"(2)
The man in the gallery continues, "My little story is simply
to illustrate my word from the Lord which is this - THINGS ARE
NOT ALWAYS AS THEY SEEM!" Then just as suddenly as he appeared,
he vanishes.
What would your reaction be to something like that?
Probably stunned silence. We would look around at one another,
just as the twelve must have done when they heard the crazy story
of the empty tomb, the resurrection of Jesus. They too were very
Presbyterian. In a way, the fantastic report of the women who
had run from the grave was like that voice from the gallery. The
disciples were no more ready to give them a hearing than we would
some mysterious stranger.
But this is not a day of decency and order. This is Easter,
the day of all days when we should be ready for the unexpected,
ready to hear a new voice. After all, this is the day which
affirms that things are NOT as they seem, the day which proclaims
that life does not end with death, that the God who is sometimes
so decently Presbyterian and at other times is whatever divine
wisdom chooses, at ALL times is in control.
In the early 1970s, a certain theological seminary held a
conference on the future. Alvin Toffler's book Future Shock was
all the rage, and an impressive group of scholars was assembled
to "do futuring." They gave well-documented addresses,
speculating about the sweeping changes moving toward us in
education, economics, community life, and technology. They
envisioned the future and described it in dazzling detail. The
closing address was given by the president of the seminary, who
said in essence, "I am only a theologian, and I have no idea what
shape the future will take. The only thing I do know is that the
future will belong to a merciful God." Years later when this
seminary president retired, he was cleaning out his office and
ran across the files from this conference. He re-read the
papers, reviewing now with hindsight all of the brave predictions
of the future. "You know," he said, "I was the only one who was
right!"(3)
Perry Biddle Jr. is an Episcopal priest who tells of a time
when he was invited to speak in a church in England. The point
of Biddle's message was "the Lord God Omnipotent Reigneth," those
wonderful words from scripture immortalized in the "Hallelujah
Chorus." In fact he used that phrase several times in his
sermon. Each time he used it, he spoke a little louder so that
the last couple of times, he almost shouted it.
As people were filing out after the service, two ladies
approached. An officer of the church who was standing nearby
whispered, "Now these two ladies are mostly deaf; they probably
didn't catch much of your sermon."
One lady said, "I didn't hear much of what you said today,
Sir. The only thing I heard was "the Lord God Omnipotent
Reigneth." As she went out the door she turned and said, "But I
guess that's all that really matters, isn't it?"(4) Amen!
Think of what that means on a day like today. It means that
what God did once in a graveyard in Jerusalem, God can and will
repeat on a grand scale for the world.
What would it be like to walk out after the service and in
the parking lot, to our utter astonishment, run into a Bill Nagy
or a Bill Wightman(5) or another dear one recently gone? That
gives us some inkling of what Jesus' disciples felt on the first
Easter. They too had grieved, but now they were encountered by
something else, a voice from the gallery with this word that
things are not as they seem. Not for our friends and loved ones
who have gone before. Not even for you and me one day.
No doubt Jesus' friends still had unanswered questions, just
as we do, but I doubt that they mattered much. In fact, when
they finally got over their shock, those same men who had slunk
away in fear at Calvary soon became themselves the voice in the
gallery speaking to large crowds in the streets of Jerusalem. To
all who would hear, their proclamation was that this same Christ
who had been tortured and murdered was now restored to life, that
death did not have the final word, God did.
One of the most glorious passages in all of Scripture is
found in the midst of the New Testament Letter to the Hebrews.
Great heroes of ancient times are noted for their faithfulness in
trusting God no matter what. Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Joseph,
Moses, Gideon, David, and on and on. As he goes through that
long list, the writer does not say that they had all their
questions answered. Instead, halfway through the list he wrote,
"All these people were still living by faith when they died.
They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and
welcomed them from a distance." Then at the very end, he says
again, "These were all commended for their faith, yet none of
them received what had been promised." The voice from the
gallery had not spoken yet.
I love the way the passage concludes: "Therefore, since we
are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw
off everything that hinders...our doubts, our fears, our
questions...and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run
with perseverance the race marked out for us." The picture is
that of a heavenly gallery packed with famous fans, all with
voices, cheering us on as we press toward the goal.
Imagine it. Over here, Abraham sitting next to Isaac with
his arm around him shouting down, "Who would have expected - a
son born to me when I was 100 and my wife was 90?" There is
Moses yelling out, "Remember the Red Sea." Over there the
prophets - Samuel, Jeremiah; there is Isaiah encouraging us to
get beyond our doubts with the ancient reminder, "I have a word
from the Lord - My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are
your ways my ways. For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your
thoughts."(6) There are things we will not understand.
Over there are the Apostles - James, John, Paul, with Peter
yelling out, "If I who denied my Lord can make it, ANYONE can."
Just there, a quieter group, but one that means so much...the
beloved grandmothers and grandfathers who bounced us on the knee,
the sisters and brothers, the cherished moms and dads who taught
us the faith. None of them are quite sure what to say, but their
very presence is God's affirmation that things are not always as
they seem, that what looks to us like an end is really just a new
beginning.
There's my Dad. Hey, Dad. Can you believe this? The
Leiningers are back again in Pennsylvania. How come you never
told me about all the snow? I miss you, Dad. I miss you.
Standing above them all, looking down with twinkling eyes
and the warmest smile, is Jesus. He speaks and we recognize his
voice as the one we heard in our gallery saying that things are
not always as they seem. He sees what we are up against. He
knows we need help. He says, "Truly I say to you, out of
crucifixion comes resurrection, out of death comes life, out of
defeat comes victory. Come unto me, all you who labor and are
heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." Then as we hear him, in
reverence we say, "Thanks be to God who gives US the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ."
Happy Easter!
Amen!
1. Quoted by Leonard Griffith, The Eternal Legacy from an Upper Room, (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), p. 30
2. Thomas Hilton, "What It Really Means," Church Management - The Clergy Journal, (April, 1990), p. 9
3. Thomas G. Long, "Growing Old and Wise on Easter," Journal for Preachers, Easter 2001, pp. 33-40
4. Perry H. Biddle, "The Important Point," Christian Ministry, (Sept., 1982), p. 19
5. Two members of First Presbyterian recently deceased.
6. Isaiah 55:9-10
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