Sermon for the 1st Sunday of Advent: December 1, 2013

Sermon for the 1^st Sunday of Advent

December 1, 2013

Matthew 24:36-44

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith 

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

“You do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” What a very strange thing to hear when all around us the “holy countdown” has started! Only 24 shopping days to Christmas; 15 school days until vacation; 14 days to the Bethany Christmas Pageant; 7 days to the Swedish Children’s Choir Concert; and approximately…20 minutes until the next showing of “A Christmas Story” and/or “Home Alone” on cable t.v. And in case you might forget, here in our worship space we have reminders of the countdown as well. Today, the first Sunday of Advent, we have one Advent banner, one Advent candle lit behind the altar, just one verse of “Light One Candle” to sing, and the worship space is once again awash in blue, the color of Advent hope.

Yes, the countdown to Christmas has begun! So what does it mean for us today to be hearing this particular Scripture text, in which Jesus warns believers we cannot know on what day our Lord is coming? True, this is spoken in reference to the second coming of Jesus, not his birth—but does this text mean we should give up on counting down anything at all? How are Christians to wait in hope of the Lord’s coming when we’re told we can never know when it will happen? Jesus seems to be telling us to wait, but not to get too excited. To be ready, but not to stop what we’re doing. To keep watch, but to understand we won’t know anything until it happens.

This kind of waiting-but-not-waiting is even more difficult to accept because of the fact that we really enjoy counting down hours, days, weeks, and months! During Advent we love to open little windows on paper Advent calendars and eat the chocolate, even if it does taste like plastic; Elf on the Shelf moves around the house; we work our way through Advent devotionals and mark days off on our work calendars. One of my favorite new options for counting down the days to Christmas (though it’s out of my budget) is the whiskey advent calendar from “Master of Malt.com”: 24 tiny tastes of whiskey from around the world, hidden behind little paper doors just like those bad chocolates we grew up with! Yes, it’s a little naughty…but it’s also a little nice, and besides, I have it on good authority that Santa prefers whiskey to milk with his cookies, anyway.

But we don’t just count down the days to Christmas. We also love to count how many months until the baby’s due date; how many more payments on the student loans; how many days until Christmas or summer vacation; and how many years to retirement. Some of you can also testify to what it’s like to count how many chemo treatments are left, and the joy that’s felt when you’re finally done. Amen?

Counting down the days, marking time, and anticipating some future event is one small thing that makes living this unpredictable, sometimes unexplainable, seemingly random life a bit easier to manage. So why does Jesus insist we cannot know the day nor the hour of his return? Why paint pictures of people going about their daily business in the field or in the mill, and the Lord’s return taking them by utter surprise, when he knows this will freak us out? How is this helpful, Jesus?

One answer lies in the fact that in Jesus’ time, as now, there were those who made it their career and mission to predict the end of all things. Just in our lifetimes, can you even count how many “end of the world” prophecies have come and gone? From the year 44 (before the Gospels were even written) all the way to December 21, 2012, there have always been predictions of Jesus’ return. But in spite of their anxious countdowns and dire warnings, all have passed without incident. Our apocalyptic hope remains just that: hope.

So it is into this context Jesus speaks these words: “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

Only the Father knows…this a constant reminder to all who seek to discover the holy egg timer that one can never know the mind of God. It is not given to us to know God’s timetable. Whether we’re talking about Jesus’ return and the coming of the kingdom; or the onset of labor, the outcome of a particular cancer treatment, the future of a relationship, or the day and hour of our death, we are like Noah, who knew nothing until the day the rains came and he entered the ark. The one thing we know for sure about Jesus’ coming (and about God’s timing) is that it will be unexpected.

We do not know on what day our Lord is coming. We cannot know what the future holds. But, my friends, this doesn’t mean we stop looking, stop hoping, or simply resign ourselves to apathy and ignorance! Counting down the days, decoding prophecies, making predictions and preparing for disaster is waiting, all right—but it is waiting in fear. Believers, on the other hand, wait in hope. We do not know what tomorrow will bring—but we are watchful and ready. We keep our eyes open for the ways in which Jesus is at the same time here right now, and yet still on his way. And we seek to clear the clutter from our minds so we can stay awake.

Anyone who has ever worked the night shift, sat up with a sick loved one, or chaperoned a youth group lock-in knows some strategies for keeping awake! Amen? But here are a few for us, as Christians who wait in hope for Jesus:

First: Pray. This one may seem obvious! But if we’re honest, we can always use improvement in this area. So during this Advent season, I invite you to come to worship a few minutes early (or stay a few minutes late) and visit the prayer wall at the entrance to the sanctuary. There, you can write your own prayers, as well as read the prayer requests of others. For what do you wait in hope? For what does the world wait? What darkness does Jesus, the light of the world, need to come and banish?

Second: Go about your daily work. Jesus says “Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.” In other words: The proper thing to be doing when Jesus returns is the work to which you were called. Jesus doesn’t want to see you hunkered down, preparing for disaster, holding your breath for the worst case scenario. Live your life; pursue your dreams; be the person God created you to be.

And third: Get an Advent calendar. In fact, if you could find one, it would be great to have a calendar with chocolates for every day of the year! For I can think of no better way to be ready for Jesus’ coming than to celebrate each and every day we are given. Every morning, open the door of your day to see what God has revealed for you there. Eat that piece of chocolate and enjoy the sweet gift that is life! But rather than worrying about counting down, remember who you can count on.

Sisters and brothers in Christ, just as during Advent we can count on Christmas to arrive right on time, bringing again the joy of Jesus’ birth, so we can always count on God to come through for us again. We may not know the specifics, but we can trust that Jesus always shows up: not just on Christmas morning in the manger, but also every Sunday in the bread and the wine; in the reading of the Word; and in our midst, whenever two or three are gathered. And our faith tells us that one day, in his own time, he will come again in glory, just as was promised.

And so, dear people, during Advent and every day, we Christians wait in hope. All earth is hopeful—the savior comes at last. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Thanksgiving Eve Sermon 2013

Thanksgiving Eve Sermon 2013

John 6:25-35

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Jesus said: ““I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

Today, as I was kneading the dough for my Grandma Golden’s Swedish rye bread—a recipe handed down from her mother and her mother before that and only written down when I requested it—I remembered a conversation with my Great Uncle Walter Salmonson about bread. Uncle Walter (or Valter, as he said it) lived in the nursing home down the hall from my grandpa. On one visit to see them both, I asked Uncle Walter how the food was.

“I don’t like the bread,” he said. 

“Why? What’s wrong with the bread?”

“Vell, it has too much vind in it, you know.”

“Too much…vind?” I asked.

“Ja…too much vind! I like real bread!” said Uncle Walter.

I had never considered my bread to be “windy” before, but after that conversation I took special notice. And you know what? He was right! Our bread does have too much “vind” in it. The perfectly formed, pre-sliced, carefully preserved, fluffy stuff we call bread is full of air. That’s what makes it look so pretty on the shelves and in our lunch boxes! But it doesn’t look anything like the thick slices of rye or whole wheat baked by my grandmother and her mother before her. 

The bread Uncle Walter was hungry for has depth. And texture. And a crust! It makes a strong foundation for slabs of cheese, thick layers of peanut butter, or leftover Thanksgiving turkey. It does not fold nicely, or squish into little balls to flick at your siblings or feed to the ducks, and it will never last for 3 weeks in the pantry.

Uncle Walter was getting fluffy, vindy bread in the dining room, but he was hungry for something that would fill him up. He wanted real bread. 

Sisters and brothers, Thanksgiving is not a Christian holy day or even a particularly religious day at all. But, because this is a day when most of us gather around the table and spend a lot of time thinking about (and eating!) food, Thanksgiving can be a moment for Christians to contemplate what we are truly hungry for.

Like Uncle Walter, we hungry humans want real bread. We want to be filled, and to never be hungry again. But most days, we spend our time chasing after things which never will satisfy our hunger. Day after day, we go hunting for that one thing which will take away the pain, the loneliness, the grief, the fear, and the uncertainty of this world. In that pursuit, we fill our bellies with all sorts of junk food:

Work. Hobbies and distractions of every kind. Shopping and collecting. Anger. Cynicism. Devotion to a particular worldview or political stance. Even good works can become a way of filling the void! But all these things end up being just full of air, and not substantial enough to keep us satisfied even for the day.

In tonight’s Gospel text, we see that Jesus wants to turn the crowd’s appetite from the loaves that merely filled their bellies to the bread that would last for eternity. It’s important to note that this crowd searching for and following after Jesus is the very same crowd that, in the previous chapter, had feasted on the five loaves and two fish with about 5,000 of their closest friends. That meal was so good, so tasty, and so miraculous, that the crowd decided to search for the chef. But when they found Jesus, they were surprised to hear him say: “You’re just looking for me because the last time you saw me, your bellies were filled!”

I can just hear them thinking, “Well, YEAH! Wasn’t that the point? We were hungry, you fed us. It was a miracle! What’s the problem?”

The problem was Jesus wanted the crowd to understand how his teaching, his healing, and his miracles were never the end of the story. Everything Jesus did—including the feeding of the 5,000—was meant to point the people toward God the Father, the creator of all good things, the beginning and the end, the One who gave the true bread of life to the world. Jesus wasn’t seeking followers who were amazed by his miracles or were looking for signs and wonders, but rather fellow travelers who would join him in on the Way, preaching God’s Word of hope to the hungry, the poor, and the captives.

So he told the people: “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.”

To which the people replied: “Excellent! Where can we buy it? Is it at Wal-Mart? Does it come in bulk? We want to eat it for every meal! Give us this bread always!”

When you read the Gospels, do ever wonder why Jesus even put up with some of his disciples and followers? These guys were often nothing more than vindy bread themselves! But then, those who followed him possessed the most important thing. They, like us, were hungry: hungry for hope, hungry for grace and forgiveness, and hungry for a life with meaning. 

Sisters and brothers, as we prepare to feast on many good things—pie this evening, and more wonderful things tomorrow—we gather to rejoice that Jesus is the true bread of life. He is the bread from heaven, given as a gift to the entire world. His life and witness, his death and resurrection, are the bread that fills our empty bellies and heals our broken hearts. Especially this season, when we are fed the message that a Black Friday deal or a Cyber Monday steal can fill the emptiness, it’s good to feast again on the words of Jesus, who said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Thanks be to God, for this and every good gift. Amen. 

Sermon for November 17, 2013: 26th Sunday after Pentecost (Stewardship Sunday)

Sermon for Sunday, November 17, 2013

Luke 21:5-19

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

The first thing that should be said about today’s Gospel text is that this is a speech for insiders. These words from Jesus are literally words meant for the choir – for the believers, the community of the faithful, those who are in the pews or the choir loft every Sunday; these are words for those disciples who have been with Jesus on the journey thus far and seem likely to continue on, come what may. This speech is not, then, a great tool for evangelism. I wouldn’t advise using this bit of Scripture for your “elevator speech” about Christianity, for example! And while it might be more accurate, it’s probably not a good idea for us to put these words on the front of our church, either. There’s probably a good reason we don’t see congregations named “By Your Endurance You Will Gain Your Souls Church” or church signs declaring: “Welcome to Church! Do you see these stones? All will be thrown down!” I think it’s also safe to say that next year’s stewardship campaign will likely not be based on Luke 21:17: “Jesus said, ‘You will be hated by all because of me.’ Please give generously.”

So this is not a warm and fuzzy, feel-good, Joel Osteen-style Scripture text! But this text does tell the truth. And sometimes, the truth hurts.

In this case, one truth Jesus wants to impart is that the things we think are permanent and immovable never really are. Temples, monuments, memorials, family traditions, and even this church will one day be gone. Scripture says “The grass withers and the flower fades; the Word of God stands forever.” It doesn’t say anything about the structures we erect, even those that are meant to honor God! We, like the disciples, admire the beautiful stones, stained glass, and new technology adorning our temples, and Jesus says: “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

On Friday, I was asked to attend the Board meeting of my alma mater, the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, as part of the strategic planning committee. We spent the afternoon talking about how to increase enrollment, how to market the school, and how to ensure its viability for the coming years. And, of course, we talked about the building. The Board talked about plans for replacing air conditioners, upgrading technology, and caring for aging (and often crumbling) student apartments. There was also discussion about how to get decent Wifi in a building designed like a concrete bunker which I have heard called (lovingly by students and not-so-lovingly by the neighborhood) “the Darth Vader School”.

It was all very interesting to observe, but as I listened to the careful planning for the future of these buildings that still feel like a second home for me, I couldn’t help thinking about those pesky words of Jesus: “As for these things you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” This was especially on my mind when the strategic planning consultant asked us to imagine, not just success, but “wild success.” What would “wild success” look like for this Lutheran seminary?

Board members mentioned enrollment increases of 2 percent per year; becoming the “go-to school” where bishops would find their favorite new pastors; having a balanced budget with a surplus; and having a building that grows with our needs. All worthy goals.

But it was just one professor in the back of the room – a professor of church history, in his last year of teaching – who raised his hand to offer: “It seems to me, dear people, that ‘wild success’ would mean students leaving this place equipped to proclaim Christ crucified and risen.”

Well, duh! This seems obvious, doesn’t it? You could hear a collective groan from the Board members, who were just trying to do their important work. And yet, this back of the room comment shone light on a problem that we all can understand: we most often judge beauty, growth, and success as being signs both of our faithfulness and of God’s presence and favor in our lives. Big enrollment equals a successful seminary. Big worship attendance equals a faithful church. Big house equals a happy family.

And if we believe that beauty, growth, and success are signs of God’s presence or blessing in our lives and on our mission, then it follows that persecution, distress, suffering or pain are signs of God’s absence or abandonment. The closing of a seminary, for example, would mean failure. A church that isn’t growing must not be faithfully following Jesus. A family that loses its house must be doing something wrong. In the worst possible example of this logic, we hear of people being told that if they have cancer, they must not have enough faith, or must not have prayed hard enough.

And yet, this is not the truth Jesus was laying out for the disciples in today’s preaching text, is it? Here we have Jesus making his own back-of-the-room comment, attempting to draw the disciples’ attention away from their beautifully adorned temple and instead preparing them for the path ahead. He said:

“Watch out for the doomsday deceivers. Many leaders are going to show up with forged identities claiming, ‘I’m the One,’ or, ‘The end is near.’ Don’t fall for any of that. When you hear of wars and uprisings, keep your head and don’t panic. (Keep Calm, and Carry On!) This is routine history and no sign of the end.” He went on, “Nation will fight nation and ruler fight ruler, over and over. Huge earthquakes will occur in various places. There will be famines. You’ll think at times that the very sky is falling.

“But before any of this happens, they’ll arrest you, hunt you down, and drag you to court and jail. It will go from bad to worse, dog-eat-dog, everyone at your throat because you carry my name. You’ll end up on the witness stand, called to testify. Make up your mind right now not to worry about it. I’ll give you the words and wisdom that will reduce all your accusers to stammers and stutters.

“You’ll even be turned in by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends. Some of you will be killed. There’s no telling who will hate you because of me. Even so, every detail of your body and soul—even the hairs of your head!—is in my care; nothing of you will be lost. Staying with it—that’s what is required. Stay with it to the end. You won’t be sorry; you’ll be saved.”

Conflict, legal problems, family strife, and death—this probably isn’t the vision of “wild success” the seminary’s strategic planning consultant had in mind! And it’s probably not on your wish list for your life, your family, or your church, either. And yet, as believers, when we encounter tragedy or persecution, we do not start shouting loud predictions of the end-times. We do not lose hope! Rather, we stand firm and endure, trusting in our Lord Jesus, who promises that by our endurance we will gain our souls.

As I said before, this is not a feel-good piece of Scripture. But it is a feeling-the-truth kind of Scripture. And the truth, while it can hurt, also sets us free.

Sisters and brothers, the truth which sets us free is this: God loves you! And bad things will happen. Bad things very well may happen because you proclaim Christ, because you speak about him and try to follow him. But even this does not indicate the end, or show in any way that God is not with you. Frederick Buechner said it this way: “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us.”

And this is why, as believers, we see the present time, with all its difficulty and tragedy, with economic and employment struggles, health crises, and a culture hostile to the Gospel, as being a time ripe for prayer, watchfulness, and endurance, and yes: testimony. This is the time to share our stories of struggle and of enduring faith! This is the time to come out of the closet as believers and followers of Jesus! This is the time to sing to the Lord, for he has done marvelous things! Amen!

So, for a Lutheran seminary, “wild success” might not mean a growing enrollment or faculty or building. But it certainly means growing faithful pastors equipped to boldly proclaim Christ in both good times and in bad.

For a church, “wild success” might mean packing the pews and outgrowing the building and embarking on a capital campaign. It could happen! But it also might mean banding together in the face of a crisis, or faithfully embracing and adapting to a changing culture, or giving ourselves and our resources away as food for the poor.

And I would submit that for Bethany’s 2014 stewardship campaign, “wild success” would not be merely having enough dollars to pay the salaries and cover the bills, but rather means coming together, as a community, to proclaim Christ crucified and risen through the use of our time and talents and treasures. At the end of the day—and at the end of times, when even these walls we love so dearly have come tumbling down, and when the Son of Man comes again to judge the world with righteousness—I believe “wild success” will be judged to be the extent to which we have sent people forth from this place, equipped to testify to the goodness of God, in good times, and in bad.  

So stand firm, sisters and brothers! Do not weary in doing what is right! For by your endurance you will gain your souls. Amen. 

Sermon for November 10, 2013: 25th Sunday after Pentecost

Sermon for November 10, 2013

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Luke 20:27-38

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

 Last week, our community gathered to celebrate All Saints Day, lighting candles in remembrance of our loved ones who have died, and rejoicing in the promise of the resurrection. Here at Bethany, this day is always a beautiful celebration: we haul out the bell choir, our best singers, special brass musicians, and our lovely liturgical dancers, all to help us give thanks to God who is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end; and to Jesus, the risen Lord, who promises to be with us always, even to the end of the age. It was a glorious worship service, thanks to all those who offered their artistic talents to the glory of God! 

On All Saints Sunday, the promise of the resurrection is what makes the day more than just a memorial for the dead. The promise that one day we will all be raised and reunited with our loved ones is why Christians do not mourn as those with no hope, but instead gather and celebrate as we did in spectacular fashion last week.

But let’s be honest: on All Saints Day, we don’t dwell on the specifics. The preacher doesn’t spend a lot of time talking about the nature of the resurrected life, providing proof of the bodily resurrection of the dead, or painting Thomas Kinkade-style pictures of heaven. Why? Because everyone has a different understanding of what the resurrection of the dead means or looks like. And Scripture, while it gives us hope, doesn’t give us many details to go on!

Take the text for this week, for example.

Here we encounter a fringe group, the Sadducees, publicly testing Jesus on the issue of the resurrection. First of all, we don’t know much about the Sadducees and who they were. These guys seem to be ones whose entire identity is made up of what they are against. Can you picture people like this from your own life? Folks who seem to draw energy from being negative? You might remember the Sadducees from Sunday School, where I, at least, was taught to remember that the Sadducees were against the resurrection, so they were sad, you see...

So the Sadducees had issues with the resurrection, and they especially had issues with Jesus teaching in the synagogue about the resurrection. So they concocted a scenario, a perfect storm, a trap of a riddle, meant to twist Jesus up in his argument and prove the resurrection to be impossible.

“So…there is this woman whose husband dies, leaving her childless. So she marries his brother, and he dies. She eventually marries all 7 brothers, and they all die, and she never has any children—so after she dies, whose wife will she be?”

The point of throwing this riddle at Jesus is to try and make Jesus say something, in the synagogue, that goes against the teachings of Moses. The Sadducees want to discredit him, and therefore his ideas. But Jesus comes back with an answer that stops them in their tracks: he says: “Listen, these marriage laws are about the here and now. The resurrected life is completely different! Your complicated rules will not be an issue! And furthermore, even Moses talks about the resurrection. So the most important thing to know is this: ^“Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”

God is not the God of the dead, but of the living. This may not seem like a definitive answer, but for the Sadducees, it was enough to shut them up. The very next verses, which didn’t make it into our lectionary reading for today, say this:

⁹Then some of the scribes answered, “Teacher, you have spoken well.”⁴⁰For they no longer dared to ask him another question.”

I wish I could say something so definitive about the resurrection—something that would stop doubters in their tracks. Or, even better—I wish I had the right words to clear up my own doubting and confused thoughts on this issue! But to be honest, I had preached about the resurrection at a number of funerals before I had thought too much about what I really believed about it.

And then, I had no choice but to think about it. This happened at my first call, down the road at a country parish, and I had a dear parishioner there who was sick from the very first time I met her. At first, Paula was just short of breath. She wheezed a little as she walked up and down the steps into the church. She always attended the Wednesday evening service with her husband, because for many years she had worked the night shift as a nurse and found Sunday mornings too difficult. Wednesday nights typically had about 15 people in attendance, an intimate group, so we got to know each other quickly, and the Wednesday group often prayed for Paula and her breathing issues.

In the weeks and months after I arrived, as I got to know her, Paula’s health got worse and worse. Doctors were baffled. They could find no reason for her to have difficulty breathing. It wasn’t cancer. It wasn’t asthma. It wasn’t allergies or a mold problem in her house. Finally, they diagnosed her with “idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.” In other words, scarring of the lung tissue with no discernible cause. And no treatment.

She was 59 years old.

Unfortunately, the disease progressed rapidly, and less than a year after I met her, Paula was in the hospital unable to take any meaningful breaths. One incredibly hot August day, I stopped in to see her there after spending far too much time at the county fair (another important part of a rural pastor’s job!) I rushed in, hot and sweaty, for a quick hello, and saw that Paula was really struggling. So I sat at the edge of her bed and asked what I could do. Paula shared that she was frustrated and angry, and incredibly sad to be leaving her husband, kids, and grandchildren. She knew she was dying, and it sucked. But at that moment, in her hospital bed, she wanted to talk about the resurrection.

What was it like? Did I believe in it? How could we know it to be true? Dying was the easy part, she said. Trusting that this wasn’t really the end was the hard part. Please help, she said.

I have to say, as a brand-new pastor, I felt completely unprepared for that conversation. I knew how to write a good funeral sermon. I knew how to baptize babies and chant the liturgy and prepare children for confirmation. I knew how to attend the county fair and bless the cows and pigs and sheep my parishioners were showing. But looking a dying woman in the face and answering her questions about the resurrection seemed something best left to a pastor who knew more than I did, had seen more than I did, or understood Scripture more than I did.

But here was no one else in the room that day but me. So here’s what we did: Paula and I held hands. We decided there was so much we didn’t know (what the resurrection would look like, who would be there, what our bodies would be like, what our relationships to our loved ones will be like, for example) so instead we talked about what we did know: What God is like. How we’ve felt God’s love for us and presence with us. And, especially, where we have experienced resurrection already, in this life.

Paula talked about the joy of holding her grandchildren as babies and seeing the future in their eyes.

I talked about watching my brother journey from the depths of a powerful addiction to a new, clean life, full of promise and hope.

Paula shared about her love of angels (she had a truly massive angel figurine collection at home!) and some of the times when she felt the presence of angels (or God, or the Holy Spirit, or whatever you wanted to call it) giving her comfort and hope.

I shared about the darkness of my own grief after losing several pregnancies, and the new, resurrected life I found when I was able to share my story with others going through the same thing.

Paula talked about feeling Jesus’ presence with her at church, and while reading Scripture, and especially while singing her favorite hymns. She also gave thanks for the life-giving 40 year marriage she had enjoyed with her husband.

After a while, we were silent. There were still many questions left unanswered. The future was still unclear. But together, we had found firm ground in speaking about the God we knew intimately—the God who had been present with us at our baptisms, in our sharing of communion, in the beauty of nature, at the birth of our children, in the love of our church community, and in times of difficulty and grief. The God we both knew is the God of the living, not the dead. Our God is a God of life, life, and more life—which we saw most perfectly when Jesus was raised from the dead and walked again among the faithful. As scary as it was to be facing death, Paula came to a resting place, trusting that the God of this life she loved so much would continue to be the God of the next life; that the God she loved and served would not abandon her when she needed God most.

Soon, I went back to the county fair, because Paula needed her rest. She died just a few days later.

At this point in my ministry, I’m not sure I have any better answers about the resurrection. I wish I could direct you all to heaven’s website, where you could see previews of the rooms available and even check out the menu for that heavenly banquet! I wish I had the perfect snappy comeback for those who doubt, just like Jesus did with the Sadducees. But instead, in times of doubt—mine or others’—I find myself going back to that hospital room with Paula, where together we found hope in the promise of the resurrection, and where we knew the awesome presence of the living God in the sharing of our stories. 

Let us pray, sisters and brothers, with St. Augustine, who wrote:

“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in you.” Amen.