The Curse of Death and God's Promise of Life
The Rev. Mark Sherwindt, Pastor
Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church
Ash Wednesday: February 21, 2007
Blair Woodside is a longtime member of Zion. He is also a well-known figure in North Canton, having worked at the Hoover Company during the glory years, and long before that. Blair is now eighty-six, and he has been the primary care-giver for his wife Marge, who suffered a head and neck injury in her home fourteen-and-one-half years ago, right around the time they were celebrating their 50th Wedding Anniversary, and has been paralyzed from the neck down ever since. Blair is the reason that Marge shattered the odds, and has been with us for these many years. I was surprised this past week to find Blair in the hospital. He had survived a scare himself, but was in pretty good humor when I saw him. From out of the blue, he discovered that he was bleeding internally. As can often happen when that occurs, by the time you get to the hospital, one's blood pressure has begun to drop and it's hard to find a vein to start the blood transfusion. Buzzers go off, lights flash, medical personnel scurry around. It's quite a panic.
So, Blair thought that this might be it. His son was right there, and, since Blair has always been a rock in times of crisis, he thought that it might be time to share his last words in order to prepare those he loved for his passing. He searched and searched, but could not think of a thing to say! He was racking his brain for something profound to be remembered by, and this man who always had the right word for the right occasion went to the cupboard and found it bare! Nothing came to mind. He just laughed, both because nothing came to mind and because he was amused by what mattered most to him when death seemed imminent. Oh, don't misunderstand. Blair's chuckling at himself was not intended to mask the gravity of facing death; and it certainly wasn't the first time death came close.
His service in the Air Force during the Second World War was a sobering experience surrounded by death in more forms than any should ever be forced to endure. These last fourteen-and-one-half years have been filled with daily reminders that death could be hiding in the corner, just out of sight, behind the door, waiting for any opportunity to strike. It hasn't made Blair fearful, but resolute in action, resolute in faith, resolute in prayer. Not a day passes without acknowledging his gratitude to God for the many extra moments his family has had with Marge, with a deep humility for the care he's been allowed to share and the service he's been able to offer. “Pastor,” he said, “I've lived a blessed life. I'm ready. I look forward to meeting my Savior. I've tried to do the best I can.” Blair has been faithful at Zion for many years, serving in virtually every capacity at one time or another. He surely is ready for whatever may come his way.
At this point I must confess that these kinds of conversations are one of the many privileges that come with being a pastor. I know that in public I'm the one who is supposed to proclaim the powerful truth of the gospel; but in private it is nothing short of inspiring seeing how faith has formed the lives of God's saints. The truth is that Blair's is just one of the many powerful stories of faith with which Zion has been blessed. That doesn't make his any less unique and certainly not any less impressive for those of us who have been blessed to see it and to share it. One day that day will come - for Blair, for Marge, for each one of us - when God calls us home into His presence. Fortunately for Blair (and for us), he'll have more time to think about those final thoughts and last words. But even Blair knows that far more important than the words we share in leaving our friends here on earth are the words we will hear when we are greeted by God in heaven.
That's why we're here on Ash Wednesday. “Return to the Lord your God. For God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.” These are the words the prophet Joel used to call us to worship this evening, and these are precisely the truths about God that Jesus seeks to reveal. This is a call we need to hear and heed. It is a message that can be found throughout the Old Testament, and it is a key truth that is carried over in the stories Jesus tells about God in the Gospel of Luke. Whether it's the patience shown with the Prodigal Son [Luke 15], or the model of compassion displayed by the Good Samaritan [Luke 10], or the deep love Jesus shows toward the widow of Nain [Luke 7], or just those straight-forward teachings about a God who knows no limits to his caring and no boundaries to his love [Luke 12]: the message is the same. “Return to the Lord your God. For God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.”
Ash Wednesday is about the curse of our mortality. Whether it's an aging body reaching well into one's eighties, or the momentary accident that severs a nerve and leaves one's fragile body changed without warning and virtually no hope for change, the ashen mark on our foreheads reminds us that our bodies are drawn from the dust of the earth, and to dust we shall return. There is nothing in the Good News of the Gospel that tries to deny the reality of our mortality. There is nothing in the Good News of the Gospel that claims that we can soar above the curse of mortal life if we just believe hard enough, or focus our minds strongly enough on the positive, or learn to pray in the right way for the right things.
This is not to diminish the value and importance of prayer, but to remind us of what Paul said with such uncompromising clarity in the Book of Romans. He had just finished marveling at the power of God's grace conquering the curse of our condemnation, canceling sin's debt, bearing the law's burdens, when he sees clearly the contrast between God's perfect goodness and his own frail frame drawn from the dust of the earth. “O wretched man that I am! Who will save me from my bondage to this body of death? Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through Jesus Christ our Lord!” [Romans 7:24-25a]
It has not been all that long ago since we heard once again the Good News of Christmas, how God traversed the great divide between heaven and earth, and was found to be born in the humble surroundings of a barn in Bethlehem. Our worship this evening sets us on a course that invites us to join Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem, where we will see the length to which God goes to save us from ourselves and embrace us with His love. That's why we're here with ashen marks formed in the shape of a cross upon our foreheads. It signals our hope and the Gospel's truth, which proclaims God's promise that when our bodies return to the dust of the earth from which they were drawn, our spirit will return to the Lord of life from which it came.
We know what we will hear on that great and glorious day: angels rejoicing, with the voice of God booming from the throne, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Your heavenly inheritance awaits. Receive the kingdom prepared for you from before the foundation of the world.” [Matthew 25:23ff., 34ff.] In the meantime, let's face it, there's work to be done, talents to be invested, service to offer, and faithfulness to live. Lent has begun with our call to enjoy the journey that begins now in faith, and extends into the eternity that is ours in Jesus' name. Amen