a death we do not want

Today we talk about the death we do not want, we are not prepared for

Perhaps you have already lived that moment – it’s a stark memory, when we cried out at the very terminal reality of it all, when we asked “How are we to understand that this is God’s way?  How could God be present in any of this deep loss?”

There is no need for a metaphor in order for us to understand loss at this level.  We only have to look into a doctor’s waiting room, the local divorce court or that night when your son went out to the movies and it was the police who came to your front door two hours later.

There are all kinds of death for which we are not prepared and do not want.  Not now, not ever.  Instead, we want a life filled exclusively with healing and love, of striving and giving, and we want it all to end with grace and comfort.  We do not want bags of chemo or twisted metal.  We all want to go gently into that soft night without ever having to stand by and watch a loved one die in pain. 

We rebuke this image of pain and terror of which Jesus speaks.  It is the dying that we call evil; it is the pain that we call Satan and we want to push it behind us: in anger and resentment and fear. 

We want a savior who can rescue us from the terminal reality of life.  A healer who can mend our wounded, broken, hurting places.    We want a protector: a shield against the harshness of this world.

 

We want a confessor who will hear our truth with a forgiveness that exceeds our regrets and then sends us on to live with more grace, prepared to forgive others.

 And even should the death that we mourn be no more than a deep and real confession of our hidden brokenness, we don’t really trust the absolution.  We don’t trust the word of forgiveness. We have no idea how we are to live as a forgiven person,  when the truth of who we are continues to haunt us in the night.

We want a lover, one who will embrace the true nature of us – down deep.  Even though we do not believe that God in fact does love us and is calling us into real life when at the same time putting to death the stuff that we are absolutely certain we must have.

We want someone who can transform the truth of our lives into a full, abundant life: giving, receiving, loving, being loved….rather than resurrect an abundant life from the death of the old one.  It is the death of this hope, this dream that we can have all the sun without ever experiencing the night which we most fear and constantly reject.

We are afraid that somehow we will be left alone - naked - in a  dangerous world.  We are in this alone, it is us against the universe, and that which is broken cannot be fixed.

So we stand with Peter  and cry out NO!  You cannot leave us abandoned, orphaned, to our own devices. 

What are you talking about Jesus?  You CANNOT die or our hopes will end, and our striving will be for nothing.  Are you not the Savior – save me now, save me later.

Death cannot be a new beginning.  
Life cannot be found in death.    
I cannot find myself in death.
Death cannot fix anything.

You give us a promise, Jesus?

 A promise that on the third day all will be revealed…..life beyond the grave….life in the hands of this God? 

That is the promise?  In the end, it is easier to understand Peter than it is to trust in Jesus.  What do we do now?

Sermon delivered Lent 5 March 22, 2015 at Luther Memorial based on the text Mark 8.31-38.