The Goodness of the Lord

For our preaching class we were tasked with preaching a funeral sermon based on one of a list of scenarios (which we then had to expand).  Below is both the expanded scenario and the sermon that I wrote.  I presented this sermon in class to a small group of my colleagues and my professor.

To make this explicit: this is a hypothetical scenario.

Scenario

I am serving as the solo pastor for the Presbyterian church in a small, midwestern river town.  The church is on the smaller side (about 75 regular members), but is very active in both worship and community life.  It is late summer; the days are hot and humid.  Last Tuesday evening I received a phone call from Emily Evans, wife of Jim Evans, asking me to come to the local emergency room.  Upon arriving, I learned that while Jim had been mowing the lawn that afternoon Emily noticed the mower running for a long time without moving.  When she went to check on him, she found him collapsed on the ground, not breathing.  Although paramedics responded quickly, they could not revive him and he was pronounced dead at the hospital.  While Jim had no warning signs, doctors believe he suffered a major stroke.  Jim was 48 years old and is survived by his wife, Emily, and two teenage children: Sarah (14) and John (17).

Jim was a very active and caring member of the congregation with a lively faith in Christ.  He was serving as an Elder on Session (as he had for many years), where he was often the voice of reason when disputes arose; a voice that also sustained the tenor section of the church choir for years.  Jim was quick to volunteer his time, and was as comfortable visiting people at home as he was with a chainsaw in his hands cleaning up after the latest storm.  In his professional life, Jim was a science teacher at the local high school and coach of the cross-country team.  He viewed his work as an extension of his faith; not to evangelize but to serve.  He strived to show the love of Christ in everything he did; including how he taught and interacted with his students.

The funeral will be held at the church on Monday afternoon, six days following Jim’s death.  The family, both immediate and extended, will be present along with a large portion of the congregation.  In addition many of Jim’s colleagues and students from the high school will be in attendance; his cross-country team is likely to take up several pews all on their own.  There will also be parents of students and community members; as in most small towns, almost everyone there will have known Jim to some degree, most fairly well.

Text & Sermon

Isaiah 25:6-10

On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples
    a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines,
   of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. 

And he will destroy on this mountain
    the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
    the sheet that is spread over all nations;
    he will swallow up death forever. 

Then the Lord GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces,
    and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
    for the LORD has spoken. 

It will be said on that day,
    Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
    This is the LORD for whom we have waited;
    let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation. 

For the hand of the LORD will rest on this mountain.

--

    For many of us, this past week has felt like a bad dream, the kind that leaves you sitting bolt upright in your bed, sweating, trembling, grasping for light.  But unlike the dream that passes at dawn, this week has brought the sudden realization that our world, our lives, have been turned upside down, and it feels like they may never sit right again.  Over the past several days, as I have talked with Jim’s friends and family I have heard over and over again “It just doesn’t make sense.  Why Jim?  Why Now?”  It has been the refrain of my dreams and of my prayers; how can I see God’s goodness in a land filled with such darkness and pain?

    It doesn’t take long to realize just what our community has lost; Jim Evans touched lives everywhere he went.  In just a few weeks when school starts up again, students and teachers will walk by the classroom where Mr. Evans taught science for twenty-six years and will find his quick smile and encouraging words missing.  The winding trails of the cross-country course, where his leadership helped so many young people find strength they never knew they had, will feel longer than ever before.  Here in this church his calm wisdom will be missed at session meetings and his clear, tenor voice will never sound from the choir loft again.  Across our community his gentle strength and passion for a life well-lived will leave holes that seem impossible to fill.  Jim was a loving husband and father who married his college sweetheart, Emily.  He cared for his children deeply and worked hard to make sure Sarah and John had the best.  There are no words to explain that hole.  All we can see is the future that will never be: dinners that will never be shared, graduations that will never be celebrated, big moments and small moments that could have been.  How can anyone see God’s goodness in that?

    Many years ago, soon after I became the pastor here, I was having coffee with Jim.  A few days prior there had been a big fight during a church business meeting, and I, as a young pastor, had started to lose my cool.  I don’t know now what it was about, or why we were all so mad, all I know is that Jim was the voice of reason that calmed everyone down.  As I sat, swirling my coffee in the corner booth, I asked Jim how he was able to remain so calm when everyone else was upset.  He smiled, and without a word pulled out his wallet.  From behind the drivers license and pictures of his family he took out a small sheet of paper, folded over several times.  He handed it to me, and waited.  I gently unfolded the paper, and realized it was a page from a bible.  The edges were worn and faded, but right in the center, two verses were circled and underlined.  The concluding verses of Psalm 27 stared back at me with their quiet, yet bold proclamation: I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!   As I handed the page back to Jim, he smiled, and explained how long ago he had come across the Psalm during a time in his life when he was having a hard time seeing anything good, and how it served as a daily reminder to him that the goodness of the Lord was always visible, but that sometimes it took a great deal of strength and courage to wait long enough to see it.

    Over the years, as I got to know Jim better, I saw his strength and courage in action time and time again; and I am sure you have seen it too.  I saw as he searched out the goodness that was hidden deep inside teenagers struggling to figure out their place in this world.  

    I saw as he pointed to the goodness that was behind every person who sat at our session meetings, no matter how different their opinions may have been.  I saw as he raised his children, joyfully showing them the goodness of the world around them to be found in every blade of grass and note of music.  I saw as he sat and waited for the goodness of the Lord that came at the end of his father’s long journey with Alzheimer’s.  Jim’s journey was not free of pain or loss; in fact I think he felt the groaning of the world more than most.  But even from under the shroud of death and loss that so easily clouds our view, Jim waited on the Lord, and took courage.  And he saw the goodness of the Lord in each and every one of us.

    Maybe that is why Jim’s death burns in our souls: he was our vision.  How can we see any goodness in the world when our eyes have been blinded with tears?  The shroud of grief and loss weighs us down, and it feels like we will never see the light again.  It will take time for us to learn to see on our own, it will take waiting, and courage, and strength, but just as Jim learned to see the goodness of the Lord that surrounded him, so shall we.  It will take all of us, holding each other up and pointing to the light, no matter how dim it may seem, for it is only together that we may begin to regain our sight.

    I always wondered what Jim envisioned when he thought about the goodness of the Lord.  I think that if he were to describe it, the scene would have a lot in common with what the prophet Isaiah describes in his vision of the heavenly banquet prepared for all of us by the Lord of hosts.  

    A feast of rich foods and well-aged wines opens the scene, but it is hardly the main course of this banquet.  Rather, we are invited to watch as the Lord God takes the shroud of death and grief that covers all peoples and nations and destroys it completely, and with it death is destroyed forever.  On that day God will wipe away the tears from every face, and we will see him clearly.

    My friends, that was Jim’s hope, and it is our hope.  We may not always be able to understand it, or even believe that it is true, but death will not hold onto us forever.  The shroud that covers us today has already been torn by the one who overcame the grave on our behalf: Jesus Christ.  The day is coming when he will return and death will be no more and our tears will be wiped away.  Until that day, we live as Jim lived, believing that we too shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  So, be strong, take courage, and embrace the beauty and joy that Jim brought into our lives as we wait for the Lord.

Amen.