Luke 24:44-53
One of the central elements of Methodism from its earliest
beginnings is something we call “connectionalism”. This
word refers to the family tie that exists among the people called Methodist.
In the days of John Wesley the connection was essentially through him
as he connected bodies of believers with each other and with those charged
to provide spiritual oversight, his circuit riding preachers and class
leaders. The connection worked in this way: On the one hand were those
who needed a spiritual shepherd; on the other were those whom he sent.
He was the hinge pin who connected pastor and people.
Churches do their best when they realize and understand
the ways we are connected to one another by means of the Holy Spirit.
I saw an example of the way the Spirit binds us just yesterday when
one of our Liberian families shared the way that has held them together
over the years in a fellowship group. Years ago eight Liberian women,
while living in their native country, formed a Bible study and prayer
group. In time, one and then another of the group immigrated to the
United States. Finally all of them made it to these shores, but the
result was that the group ceased to exist for a while. They settled
up and down the mid-Atlantic coast from New Jersey to Virginia. In time
they realized they were really missing something vital in their lives.
It was their Bible study and prayer group. So they made a covenant to
begin meeting again, once a month, and would rotate from home to home,
traveling sometimes hundreds of miles to be together. All eight of the
women are now bound together again in study and prayer. They found they
couldn’t live without it, or at least life was not as good. Now
they look forward to their monthly trek to refresh their spirits by
being together with God and one another.
We do our best when we find our connection as a spiritual family, and
we do our best work when we work as a spiritual family, looking out
for one another, advancing the cause of Christ with all the resources
at hand, and not just a few. But there are many other ways that we are
connected in this mortal life.
From the moment of our conception we are connected to our mother. God
made it this way. Psalm 139 describes God’s handiwork as follows:
“For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together
in my mother’s womb.” (v.13) In the womb a fetus is utterly
dependent on the warmth and nourishment that come from the mother by
means of a comfortable place to be and an umbilical cord through which
nutrition comes.
After the birth of a baby the nurturing continues as the extremely dependent
baby looks to its mother for virtually all its needs, recognizing of
course that fathers play a very significant role here, as well. All
in all, the baby could not survive without the care of its parents or
other caregivers as the case may be. [As an interesting aside, it was
reported this week that if the value of a full-time, stay-at-home mom
could be paid in salary, her work would be worth $130,000.00 annually.
Personally, I think that figure must be low, considering all the demands
on motherhood these days!]
All through the growing up years there is a movement toward independence.
As we become more inwardly secure with age we let go of parental support,
at least partially, and look to develop our support system in other
ways. We develop other kinds of relationships and look for security
in jobs with economic benefits and positions of influence. We develop
friendships and romantic relationships that increase our sense of stability
and interpersonal well-being, and in time many begin the entire process
over again with marriage and the bearing of a new generation of needy
little children, looking for the solid ground on which to plant their
feet.
Our greatest happiness comes through solid, trustworthy relationships,
and our greatest unhappiness comes when relationships fail, bringing
distrust, heartbreak, and deep disappointment. Tune in any country station
on the radio and you hear the sad stories of broken relationships.
It would seem that the deepest longing of our hearts is for trusting
relationships that buoy us up, give us confidence, and allow us to be
our best.
It may sound trite, but it is true: to have a friend, you’ve got
to be a friend. To have a relationship you have to commit to a relationship
and protect it from harm. Every mother by instinct is a protector, at
times ferociously so. Likewise, she is a nurturer, but the wise mother
knows there comes a time when the cubs have to venture out on their
own, and eventually leave altogether. Sometimes this is called “cutting
the apron strings”.
Such a time is not easy for mothers and fathers. I have had some tearful
counseling sessions in my office with parents who had just taken their
almost adult teenager off to college for the first time. The so-called
“empty-nest syndrome” kicks in with too much quiet around
the house, and no one asking for a clean shirt or blouse to wear, or
the keys to the family car for an evening at the movies. It is a major
adjustment time.
Another such moment, that I can attest to, is the moment a father walks
his daughter down the aisle to be married. It is a letting go time,
a presenting in marriage time, when you know you are releasing a love
of your heart to someone else’s care, a son-in-law whom you respect,
hopefully, but who has yet to be fully tested to know if he is up to
the task of loving and caring for your beloved daughter. It is a time
of prayer that they will learn to grow together and build a marriage
through all the seasons of a life; indeed, to build a home based on
love’s steadfast loyalty, mutual respect, and the desire that
Jesus Christ be a welcome guest, their daily bread, and the Source of
their joy.
There comes a time when even mature relationships change, a time when
we have to let go of certain aspects of our lives. I remember an elderly
couple at a church I once served, very faithful in attendance and beloved
by all for their wonderful marriage. After well over fifty years together
in marriage they still acted like newlyweds. She would be on his arm
coming into church. They sat close during worship, and always had a
certain sparkle in the eye when they looked at each other.
One day the husband died and I conducted a service of resurrection with
the church packed with family and friends. A few weeks later I preached
a sermon on the gift of remembering and quoted from a song from the
musical The Fantastiks, which goes, “Try to remember the kind
of September when life was slow and oh, so mellow. Try to remember the
kind of September when grass was green and grain was yellow. Try to
remember the kind of September when you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember and if you remember, then follow.”
(Music by Harvey Schmidt/ text by Tom Jones)
I looked out on the front row of the congregation and there sat the
widow of the man I had recently buried. Her eyes were streaming; she
was in tears and I felt pretty bad that these words had triggered such
a reaction. But I later found that her reaction was a natural part of
the grieving process. She was remembering her husband, her youth, the
joys of the early years of marriage and all the things that had happened
in the course of a lifetime. It was all pouring out and it was beautiful
to see the depth of her memories in spite of her pain. She was being
human. It was the most natural emotion possible and I daresay, healing.
This was a woman of deep faith who in spite of her loss and that of
her children knew all would be well in God’s own time. There is
a wonderful piece of music from Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s opera,
Die Tote Stadt, entitled “Marietta’s Lied”. The music
is the most hauntingly beautiful piece I think I have ever heard and
the text is equally powerful. The woman is grieving the coming loss
of her beloved. Some of the text reads:
“Truly a sad song. The song of true love, that cannot but die.
I know the song. I heard it oft in younger, (in) happier days …
It has another verse – do I know it still? Though dark sorrow
approach, yet draw close to me, my true love. Bow down your pale face.
Death shall not part us. If one day you must leave me, then believe
the dead shall live again.”
Those words are a wonderful affirmation of faith in the resurrection.
Death brings pain, but in spite of it we receive two gifts: one, the
promise of eternal life, and two, the gift of memory. Another wonderful
verse from the song mentioned before says:
“Deep in December it’s nice to remember, although you know
the snow will follow. Deep in December it’s nice to remember without
a hurt the heart is hollow. Deep in December it’s nice to remember
the fire of September that made us mellow. Deep in December our hearts
should remember and follow.”
The Christian living in 2005 who remembers the story of Jesus will remember
his invitation to follow, to follow when he issues the call to discipleship
and to be ready to receive the fire of Pentecost. But that is not all.
We also remember Jesus’ longing to be in communion with his Father.
We remember the hours of prayer as he communed. As an aside, we heard
during the days while Pope John Paul lay in state, many wonderful stories
of his spiritual influence and way of life. A striking aspect was the
amount of time he spent in prayer. They say he prayed seven hours a
day, and close observers say he quite often in the midst of prayer would
say, “Yes.” He seemed to be answering the voice of God.
Whatever God said to him in those quiet hours, his answer was “Yes!”
Jesus spent many hours in prayer and at the last he was looking forward
to returning to his Father. Today’s text describes his ascension
into heaven. It was a joyful ascent, as evidenced by the response of
the disciples. After he was carried into heaven, and indeed, as his
love was being dispersed throughout the world, “they worshiped
him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually
in the temple blessing God.”
Life had come full circle for Jesus. He had begun his journey in the
courts of heaven, then came to earth, and when his mission was complete
he returned to heaven to rule in glory forever. In contrast, our journey
begins as an idea in the mind of God that comes to reality in the moment
of our conception. We are nurtured along the way by our mothers and
fathers, our families and friends, our church, our marriage or other
relationship, our children, and made to feel complete, fulfilled, part
of something significant, and never alone.
We are not made to live in isolation; we are created for community.
Jesus makes himself known in the community context. That is why he said,
“Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the
midst of them.”
We need each other and we need God. We cannot live without each other,
and we cannot live without God. We are born in relationship. We grow
to maturity in relationship, and even in death we will still be in relationship,
for with God in Christ through the Holy Spirit we are never alone. There
is a wonderful song that I recently saw expressed in liturgical dance
during the morning worship with the Bishop’s Cabinet in Richmond.
It is entitled, “I Can’t Live Without You.” The dancer
expressed the passion of love that can be seen in all healthy relationships,
but which comes to its fullest expression in attesting our need for
God. The look on her face as she danced before God at the table of grace
said it all. And we all felt it. We knew it was the truth. We cannot
live, live life in its abundance, without God and without one another,
as sisters and brothers in Christ.
Prayer: God, we can’t live without you. Forgive
us for the times when we thought we could. Going it on our own just
doesn’t work. Thank you for giving us relationships of love that
are dependable and help to complete our lives. Thank you for our mothers,
our fathers, our families, our friends, our church, and especially we
thank you for creating us and being the Source of all good in our lives,
the Source of love, and the very Ground of our being. Thank you, Almighty
God, for the life of Jesus, for his death and resurrection, and for
his ascension into heaven. By faith let us follow forever in his train
that we, too, will have reunion with our loved ones who have gone before
and who are yet to come, and be able to meet our Savior face to face.
It is in his name that we pray. Amen.