Snakes on a Plain

Numbers 21:4-9
John 3:14-21

A Sermon preached at Southminster
March 22, 2009

I wonder if any of you have ophidiophobia? If so, you join 36 percent of Americans who claim that the number one thing of which they are afraid is….
snakes.

But snakes are also used as signs of healing such as in the caduceus, which is often used by medical practitioners to signify healing.

Or in the Staff of Asclepius. Asclepius was the Greek God of medicine, and was said to have brought people back from the dead, which got him in trouble with the other Gods.

Snakes are also symbols of power and immortality, think of the headdress worn by Pharaoh.


So, apparently the fear of snakes goes waaaay back. Because in our Old Testament reading this morning from the Book of Numbers, snakes are used to great effect. This passage is the last, the final time, the Israelites complain in the wilderness. We’ve heard their complaints before. They complain about the bitter water (Exodus 15), about the lack of food (Exodus 16). They complain about being thirsty (Exodus 17). They complain about manna and wish they had meat (Numbers 11). And they complain about the prospect of invading Canaan (Numbers 14). But this time, they appear to have gone too far, even for a gracious God, one who is slow to anger and quick to show mercy. Because this time, they complain against God.

And God sends snakes, real snakes. And these snakes kill people. I’d like to find some way to tame this passage down, to make it less scary than this picture, but I can’t.


This story should be scary. I don’t think it is a coincidence that God uses the animal that scares us most to scare us straight. And it seems to work for the Hebrew people as. They repent and beg Moses, asking him to intercede on their behalf to their God, against whom they had sinned. And let’s be clear about their sin. What got them in so much trouble was not that they lifted up their disappointments to God. It is that they didn’t trust God. “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?”, they complained. They didn’t believe in God’s promises of LIFE. The whole wilderness experience for the Hebrew people wasn’t about getting the people to believe certain beliefs or doctrines about God. It was about getting them to trust that God would lead them to life in a new land, as God had promised.
Trusting in the promises of God. It seems like that should be so easy, doesn’t it? Yet, we live our lives as if we trust in anything but God. We trust in ourselves. We trust in money. We trust in country—even though our country’s motto is “In God we Trust”.
Where do you place your trust instead of in God?

The implications of this are huge for us as community. Because if we don’t trust God, who created us and loves us, how can we trust our neighbors?

So, the killer serpents, or snakes on a plain, as it were, lead the people to repentance.



And then the weird story gets weirder. God hears Moses entreaties on behalf of the people and commands Moses to “make a poisonous serpent and set it on a pole and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.”
I don’t know how many of you remember the 10 Commandments, but number one is to have no other Gods and number two is “you shall not make for yourself an idol”.

Here is reason 391 that God never appointed me to be Moses, because if God told me to fashion a bronze serpent, I would likely have reminded God of those first two commandments. “Two words, God: golden calf. Remember how well that worked?”

Luckily for the Hebrew people, Moses obeyed God and made a serpent of bronze and put it on a pole. And whenever a serpent bit someone, the person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.

Notice that God did not just get rid of the snakes. The dangers of the world were still there with them. But God took a symbol of fear and death and turned it into a symbol of life. Once the people have repented of their sin and turned again to trust in God, the thing that had been killing them becomes the thing that saves them.

And it worked very well, by all accounts, for years and years. Because centuries later, when King Hezekiah is leading reforms and cleaning out the Temple, around 700 BCE, listen to what he does, as recorded in 2 Kings 18:4. “He broke in pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until those days the people of Israel had made offerings to it; it was called Nehushtan.”

So the chronicler of Hezekiah is making this report to let us know about what a good King Hezekiah was, but what I find interesting about this passage is that it shows that not only did Moses make this serpent, but that it worked, because people were still praying to it centuries later. If the people believed that the bronze serpent, and not God, was the agent of their healing, then Hezekiah was right to destroy it. Whenever we mistake the signs and symbols for God, and we begin to worship the signs and symbols, instead of God, then we have made idols. Take the sign and symbol of the Bible. Sometimes people seem to take the Bible so literally, it appears they are worshipping the book instead of the God who is revealed in the book. Or people turn church leaders or church doctrine into idols. One magazine, when describing a church talked about two competing forces that had been at work in that church over the years—the doctrine of love and the love of doctrine.

So, we’re reminded not to turn the snakes, or anything else, into idols.
One of my favorite preachers, Barbara Brown Taylor, asks this question about the snakes: “What is God capable of doing with those idols, once they have been plucked out from under our feet and set up on a pole where we can see them clearly? How does God respond to our fear, both in the wilderness, and at the foot of the cross?” (Barbara Brown Taylor in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol 2, (Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2008)page 103).

And so we move toward the story in John’s gospel, where the connection is made between Moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness to bring life from death, to the person of Jesus, who is lifted up on a cross to bring eternal life from death.
Here is an artist’s combination of the two stories, with Moses’ bronze serpent being lifted up on the cross of Christ.


And even though this reference to the Numbers text is universally overlooked in favor of the next verse—“for God so loved the world….”, it is worth spending some time on the connection before moving on to 3:16.

John’s gospel has some different themes, or different emphases, perhaps, then do the other gospels. One of them is the theme of being “lifted up”. Jesus often refers to the Son of Man being lifted up. On one level, he’s referring to the cross event, of his literally being lifted up onto a cross. On another level, it means being lifted up as being exalted, a sign of God’s glory, of death being turned into life. And there’s also the sense of his being lifted up to heaven.
But just as the Hebrew people can’t be saved from the danger of the snakes—remember God doesn’t take the snakes away—so too we cannot be saved without the humiliation of the cross. There is no exaltation without the crucifixion in John’s gospel.

So this passage from Numbers is brought in to reinforce for John’s community how God, in the past, had lifted up something to bring life to God’s people. What God did through Moses lifting up the bronze serpent in the wilderness is just an opening act, compared to what God did by lifting up Jesus. Because in the lifting up, in the exaltation of Jesus, our death will be turned to life.

“Whoever believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world, that God gave the only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

John’s gospel, and this passage in particular, is often used to argue that our salvation largely rests on our choice. On our decision to choose Jesus. And that is a part of this passage. There is a sense in John’s gospel that we do need to respond to the truth that “God so loved the world that God gave the only son”.

But our response to the grace that has saved us shouldn’t diminish the gift. The exaltation of Christ on the cross that turns into the glory of the resurrection should not be reduced to only being something in our possession. God didn’t so love just us. God so loved the WORLD. “Indeed”, we’re told in verse 17, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

So, we leave it to God to figure out how that saving works. And we get busy, after we decide to follow him, creating a community where God’s love is abundant and available for all.
In the next weeks and months, be looking for ways to participate in this community. On April 4th, we’ll be going to “meet the neighbors” again, letting our neighbors know that we want to be here for them and inviting them to join us. I hope you’ll come join us for that.

And today we're commissioning Randy Marshall as a Commissioned Lay Pastor. He will be the Coordinator for Social Justice Ministries here, and will be inviting us to participate in all sorts of new things, largely focused around care of creation. And we’re adding to Carol Brunlinger’s job description as well, so be looking for more information about how to join in ministry with her in the months to come.

One thing that all of us can do to create a community where God’s love is available for all is in the welcoming presence we provide. As new people join us, it is nice to see you introducing yourselves to them. And I invite you to be on the lookout for visitors, introducing them to others, helping them figure out where the Coffee Fellowship is located, inviting them to participate in the life of the community. Even parking in the school lot to leave room in our lot for visitors is a way of making this community more welcoming.

We are mid way through this Lenten journey. As we continue this journey to the cross, to our salvation, to the transformation of death into life, let us look to share God’s abundant love with the whole world. Amen.

Being Saved Community

A Sermon preached at Southminster Presbyterian Church
March 15, 2009

1 Cor 1:18-25

This passage from Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth is one of my favorites. I love it because it best illustrates Paul’s gift of radical grace. But not all Presbyterians are fans of Paul, because he is often cited only as a moralist. Passages from his letters are used to say that people should do this but should not do that—take preaching for example. There are some passages in scripture that suggest that you should not have hired me, a woman, to be your pastor. But Paul addresses many of his letters to women, who were leading the churches in their community. Perhaps we can have a Paul Sunday School class next year to solve these discrepancies. But until then, please trust me when I say that mainline Protestants need to re-claim Paul and his writings.

He was a good Jew, well versed in the traditions of his people. He was not someone who followed Jesus. He was someone who persecuted the followers of Jesus. And then God broke into his life through a revelation of Jesus Christ.
And once he encountered the risen Jesus, he completely changed his life. Dropping all of the privilege and power that came with being a Jewish leader, he became an itinerant preacher, roaming around Asia Minor, delivering the Good News of Jesus Christ.

And once he met or started a community in a town or city, he kept in touch with them through letters. Some of these letters, written to address specific situations in specific congregations, were copied and passed around to other churches and became a part of our New Testament. But Paul’s writings were never meant, by him at least, to be scripture.

And remember—when we open our bibles, we see the Gospels in the New Testament before we encounter Paul’s letters, but Paul’s letters predate the writing and circulating of the gospels. Paul would have been a contemporary of Jesus, yet they did not know each other. His missionary journeys begin less than 10 years after Jesus’ death and resurrection and he is suspected to have died around the year 60. The earliest possible dating of a gospel account is in the mid 60’s, after Paul’s death. So, while accounts of Jesus’ life and ministry were no doubt circulating in oral form in the years after his death and resurrection, Paul’s letters are the first material we have from the early church.

One of the reasons, I suspect, that Paul’s letters were circulated so widely in the early church is because of how unique his message and his experience of Christ was.
Even though his message grows out of Old Testament understandings and beliefs, his experience with the risen Christ leads Paul to turn those understandings upside down. For example, there is a theme in the Old Testament of God siding with the underdog. Israel is the prime example of a people who had no army, no power, no resources, no land, and no future. And yet, God chooses them to be God’s people. But Israel continued to believe that their selection by God had removed their underdog status. Now that they were God’s people, they kept expecting success. Their plan, now that God was on their side, was to defeat and destroy their enemies and to become the ‘top dog’, as it were.

But Paul, reading the Old Testament through his experience of the risen Christ, preaches a new message. Paul says that the wisdom of the world is foolishness. That the plan to become the top dog will not work. That self preservation and self promotion will get you nowhere. Paul argues that being the underdog is what God is calling us to be.

Echoing the passage we heard last week from Mark—if you lose your life for my sake, you’ll find it.

This passage from Paul’s letter to the believers in Corinth was written with a very specific context. He had spent some time with them. But then his journeys took him elsewhere. And when he left, some other teachers showed up. Some other teachers who were better spoken, and better looking. They were charismatic and quickly drew a following, but they were not preaching the same message that Paul did—of radical abandonment of the status quo. Instead, they were preaching a prosperity gospel, of sorts. They were continuing on with the understanding that having God on your side means success and prosperity.

And so Paul writes the Corinthians a letter, praying for unity. Praying that they might not be divided. Praying that he’ll remember the gospel they heard proclaimed by him.

Right before our passage today, Paul sets up his argument—“now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose.”

And if you want to know what that same purpose is, he says, listen to Paul, not to some smooth talking guy.

Because Paul was apparently not a good speaker. Preaching was not his gift. And he wasn’t so nice to look at either, by his own admission. But Paul is a brilliant rhetorical thinker, who was well versed in the crafting of an argument. In verse 17, after talking about the factions and who-baptized-who, he says, “for Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel—and not with eloquent wisdom, so the cross of Christ might not be emptied.”

In other words—eloquent wisdom empties the cross of its power.

And then Paul, the person who puts no stock in human wisdom, uses a lot of it to build his argument.
God tried the wisdom of the world, he says. God sent prophets. God gave the people signs. God raised up kings, leaders, and judges. And you know what? The world still didn’t know God. So God threw human wisdom in the recycling bin and did something crazy. Foolish, even. God became human.

And God did not become human the way Hollywood would script it. He was born in poverty, in a no account town, to an unwed teenage mother. And the clearest expression of God’s human divinity was through humiliation on a cross, at the hands of an occupying power.

Think about how odd that looks to the world. The central Christian symbol that decorates our sanctuary—the cross— is the ancient equivalent of the electric chair.

And Paul argues that this is GOOD NEWS because it DEFINITIVELY kicks us out of the cycle of trying to solve our problems through human wisdom. We will never be clever enough or eloquent enough to rely on our own abilities or expertise for salvation or to know God. Paul reminds us that the foolishness of God is better than the best human wisdom. So why would we want to rely on ourselves?

This message from Paul also has implications for us at Southminster as a community of faith, as part of the body of Christ. Because it is to Christ we look for our model. But the church is as seduced by the wisdom of this world as was the church in Corinth. Christians seek power in strength, not in weakness. We seek to be popular and successful, not maligned and oppressed. I, as your preacher, seek to be eloquent and use the wisdom I possess; yet it is through the “foolishness of our proclamation”, as Paul puts it, that God saves people.

This is one of those sermons where my answers only get me in more trouble. We are left to struggle with this text if we want to be faithful to the gospel and not be distracted by human wisdom.

A famous preacher provides a helpful term as we consider the paradox of modeling church on the weakness and foolishness of the gospel. He calls the church a “being saved community”,(David Buttrick Homiletic: Moves and Structures (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987) p 459) which comes from the beginning of this passage—“for the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God”. Each day, every day, we are in the process of being saved from “cramped little lives of selfishness and saved for the broad, roomy, loving discipleship of the cross”. (Jeff Paschal, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 2 p. 89)

Perhaps if we see ourselves as a “being saved community”, it will help us live in humility. Rather than just becoming a Christian and then considering the matter solved, this might help us live each day as people in need of God’s grace. Perhaps if we see ourselves as a “being saved community”, we’ll feel less need to rely on human wisdom, and can instead trust in Christ, the “power of God and the wisdom of God”.
If we see ourselves as a “being saved community”, hopefully there will be room for others to join us in the journey.
Hopefully we’ll be able to trust in God’s foolishness and see the paradox of our faith as Good News. And, hopefully, the sign of the one cross will call us, again and again, to unity. It is around this cross, this sign of the world’s wisdom being revealed as foolishness, that we all gather. Young and old. Rich and poor. Liberal and conservative. All of those labels belong to the wisdom of the world. Trusting in the foolishness of God to bring us all together under the cross, under the label of “those who are being saved.” Amen

Crowd and Cross

A sermon preached at Southminster
by Marci Auld Glass

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
Mark 8:31-38

Our passage from Genesis this morning reports the third time God has spoken with Abraham about promises of the future. And these promises seem to be great.
I will make of you a great nation!
You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations!
I will establish my covenant between me and you….an everlasting covenant!

Surely this is all good news, right? But in the 25 years since God first spoke promises to Abram and Sarai, not much has changed in their family status. They were childless then. They are childless now. And in their 90’s, one can imagine why they might seem incredulous at God’s repeated promises of offspring, ancestors, and blessing.

The story of Abram and Sarai is the story of two very imperfect people who manage to walk in faith and trust, despite themselves. And God, for reasons only God understands, chooses them to be the ancestors of multitudes of nations and the three monotheistic faiths of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. The good news for us, is that God willingly enters into relationship with people who are like us. People who make mistakes. People who turn away from grace.

Everyone in this text gets a new name. Abram becomes Abraham. Sarai becomes Sarah, and God is called “El Shaddai”, or God Almighty. This passage is the first time El Shaddai occurs in the biblical text. Perhaps the new names are a tangible sign of the covenant. Much like in baptism, when we call the baptized by their name, it is a reminder that we are not a part of a crowd, but we are known by name, and claimed by God.

This covenant is also a reminder to us that all we have is a gift from God. We did not, we do not, earn this covenant. We receive this covenant. “Our concrete acts bear no more than a testimony to the divine promise of creation, reconciliation, and redemption.”(Mark Husbands in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol 2 (WJK Press, KY 2008) page 54.) This covenant is a sign that God chooses to be for us. We do respond to the covenant, seeking to live faithful lives, but we are always on the receiving end of grace.

And Abraham and Sarah, equipped with their new names, continue their story in trust and faith, and in their old age, give birth to a son, Isaac. They continue to live into their promises as they journey through life.

As you consider this text during Lent, I invite you to consider your relationship with God. To consider the covenant between us and God.
Upon what does that relationship depend?
What are you doing to live into the relationship?
If God were to give you a new name, what might it be?

One name I invite you to try on in a new way this week, to see how it fits, is that of “Disciple”.

Our New Testament passage today is a pivotal passage for Mark’s gospel. Jesus has just asked his disciples “who do people say that I am?”

And “who do you say that I am?” And right after this passage, Jesus is transfigured on the mountainside. But before we can see the glory, Mark wants us to wrestle with questions of identity.

Who do you say that I am?

In response to the question, Peter gives the right answer. “You are the Messiah.”
So then Jesus begins to teach them some things. To make sure that everyone understands the word “messiah” the same way Jesus does.
There will be great suffering;
Rejection by the elders, chief priests and scribes;
He will be killed;
He will rise again from the dead three days later.

And in a gospel where Jesus spends a lot of time telling people to be quiet about what they’ve seen and heard, here he says these things quite openly.

There is no messianic secret here. Mark makes clear that if you want to know one thing about Jesus, it is that he must undergo great suffering, rejection by the authorities, death on a cross, and resurrection from the dead. The centerpiece of this gospel is this message right here.

And Peter, in a move that I silently applaud, rebukes Jesus. This word is the word used when Jesus rebukes unclean spirits, when Jesus rebukes the waves and the sea. And Peter rebukes Jesus. We, of course, know that it is the wrong thing to do. Silly Peter. Don’t rebuke Jesus. Remember? He’s the Messiah.

I am on the sidelines cheering Peter on, though. Because, really, is this the message anyone wants to hear? Do you know how long I wrestled with this text this week? I don’t want to preach this. I, like Peter, want Jesus to be a Messiah who will deliver us from the bad guys. I wonder what Peter said when he rebuked Jesus. “Let’s stop this nonsense of suffering and death, Jesus. We know enough about suffering. Let’s talk about power. Let’s talk about bringing back the throne of David. Let’s make people happy!”

But, of course, Jesus is having none of that. Peter should know that the man who rebukes the wind will have no trouble rebuking him. “Get behind me, Satan. For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Ouch.

And Jesus then goes on to describe how our preconceptions of divine things are all wrong. God will not be confined to human expectations or desires. “God is found in uncertainty, danger, and suffering…precisely where human wisdom perceives God’s absence.” (Joseph D. Small, ibid. page. 72.)

And so those of us who want to become disciples, are supposed to take up our own crosses and follow him. It isn’t in the miracles we’re called to be like Jesus. He’s not expecting us to calm storms or cast out demons. He wants us to walk in his path. And his path is not one of glory, at least not by the world’s understanding. It is not one of success by the world’s understanding. It is not even a path of life by the world’s understanding. But it is on the path where we become disciples. The act of following Jesus is the education we need.

Being a follower of Jesus requires us to acknowledge that the world’s understanding of things is not how God understands the world. And, much like the covenant with Sarah and Abraham, this is good news for us. The things of this world that cause us so much pain and heartache will not ultimately prevail. Even death is conquered in the person of Jesus Christ.

Being a follower of Jesus requires something else of us as well. Notice who Jesus talks to. When he rebukes Peter, he turns and looks at the disciples—“I may be talking to Peter right this very moment”, he seems to be saying, “but this could just have easily been you.” And then, when he tells his disciples about the cost of discipleship, he calls the crowd over. This is, more or less, the same crowd that’s been following Jesus wherever he goes. And miracles, healings and teachings draw big crowds.

But in this passage, Jesus tells the crowds that if any one of them want to follow him, they’ll have to pick up a cross and follow him. And crowds can’t carry a cross.
To be a disciple of Jesus, you can’t stay in the crowd. At some point, you have to step out of the anonymity of the crowd and pick up a cross. Not to suffer just so you can say you suffered, but to stand for something. To set your mind on divine things rather than human things. Being a Christian is not something you inherit from your parents. Being a disciple is a decision to turn toward God.



This morning, we’re going to do a reverse offering. The youth are passing out crosses. I invite you to take a cross.



This week, put the cross somewhere that you’ll see it in the course of your day. In your wallet, perhaps. Or tape it to the cupboard in the kitchen. Put it on the dashboard of the car.
And when you see it, I hope it will encourage you to consider if and how you are being called to leave the crowd and become a disciple. We are continuing on this Lenten journey together as a community. But becoming a disciple and picking up a cross and following Jesus is not something that the community or a crowd can do for you. But what the community can do is to walk alongside you, giving you support on the journey. Perhaps together, we can focus on setting our minds on divine things. Amen.

Journeys of Faith

A sermon preached at Southminster Presbyterian Church
March 1, 2009

Psalm 25:1-10

This is a Labyrinth. Labyrinths are not mazes. There is no dead end on this path, just a circuitous journey to the center. The Labyrinth is an ancient symbol, appearing in many different cultures. Christianity picked up the labyrinth as a metaphor for the journey pretty early on. The labyrinth on the cover of the bulletin is modeled from the one in Chartres Cathedral in France. It was laid into the floor of the cathedral in the 1200’s. A number of cathedrals across Europe had labyrinths in the Middle Ages.

Christians across Europe often went on pilgrimages. To holy sites, but ultimately, to the Holy Land. But because of the danger and expense of travel, and because of the Crusades, many pilgrims were not able to make it to Jerusalem. So, instead, they would travel to these large cathedrals across Europe. And the labyrinth would become the final part of their journey.

Scholars aren’t exactly sure when or why labyrinths fell out of favor in Christian practice. Most likely, the rise of Scholasticism and the emphasis on what could be known about God in the mind, that developed during the Reformation signaled the end of this contemplative practice. Many of the labyrinths were actually pulled out of the floors of cathedrals. The one in Chartres remains, and it is a powerful experience to walk this path that pilgrims have been walking for nearly 1,000 years.

I would like to invite you to consider the labyrinth as you journey through Lent to Easter. If I had a giant labyrinth laid out in the parking lot and were to ask each of you to go stand somewhere on the path, you couldn’t know who was closer to the center and who was closer to the entrance. Because the path of the labyrinth is full of twists and turns. At first it seems like you’re headed straight to the center, but then it loops you all the way back out to the outer ring. And our Christian faith is like that too. You can’t look at someone and know where they are on their journey. You might think—‘they’ve been coming here for years. I’m sure they have it all figured out.’ And you might be right. But you might not. The only way to know where someone is on the path is to walk with them. To journey with them.

The Psalmist wasn’t, to my knowledge, talking about labyrinths when the 25th Psalm was composed, but our lectionary text as we begin Lent is about someone praying for wisdom for the journey. “Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation.” There is no promise in this psalm that the paths will be paved with gold, or unicorns, or puppies. But the paths of God are steadfast love and faithfulness.

As we think about the path we’re on in this journey of faith, I want to talk for a bit about the end of the path. None of us know the course our journey will take. Do we have years and miles to go? Or are we approaching the place where the sidewalk ends? Because we do know, of course, that death is the end of the journey here on earth.

Society has invented all sorts of ways for us to forget about this. Hair dye, plastic surgery, and the culture of eternal youth keep us from talking about death.

Yet our faith calls us to be aware. To remember, as we said on Ash Wednesday, “from dust you are, and to dust you shall return.” Even the ritual of baptism, which we’ll celebrate today when Alan joins the church, is about dying to our old lives and being born to a new life in Christ.

We were talking about baptisms at committee night last month and Evelyn said that her baptism was a horrible memory. She was old enough to remember it. It was full immersion. And she was afraid of the water. While, in some ways, it is too bad that her memory of such a sacred moment is laced with fear of death, I wonder if she understands the significance of dying to this life and being reborn to a new life in Christ better than those of us who had “safe” and “tame” baptisms?

I would like to ask each of you to think about your death. And to talk about it with your loved ones and family.

A number of years ago, I brought up the subject with my parents, only to discover that my dad had planned his entire memorial service. But nobody, not even my mom, knew about it. It was written down on a scrap piece of paper and folded up into his wallet. He had scripture passages, hymns, all kinds of things picked out. But none of us would have known about it. So now, when that day comes, it will be easier for us to plan the service he would want to have.

So often, we don’t bring it up because we don’t want to seem macabre or depressing. But look at it this way—if you have a conversation with your family now about your wishes, you will give them a gift if the time comes that they need to know what you think about extraordinary life saving measures. Because that is not the conversation you want to have to have with your family while a loved one is needing to be hooked up to a ventilator.

To make this conversation easier for you, I have some resources that I hope you will pick up after worship. One of them is a Memorial Service planning document called “Christian Witness in the Event of Physical Death”. You can fill out as much or as little as is helpful to you. You can keep it in your files. You can give a copy to us here at the church and we’ll keep it for you. But what I hope it that it will start a conversation with your family.

In addition to questions about any memorial service preferences you might have, there are also questions about what you’d like done with your body, what your preferences for memorials are, and other details that you might know the answers to, but that might be hard for your family to discern.

This form is not meant to be invasive. You certainly don’t have to fill it out and turn it in, and don’t think that the questions we’ve listed are the only questions for you to discuss with your family. This is a place from which to begin the conversation.

We also have copies of Idaho’s Living Will/Durable Power of Attorney form. You can also print these out from the Idaho Attorney General website, but please fill one of these out. Talk it over with your family and with your family doctor.

(all of these documents can be found at the church’s website:www.spcboise.org)

If you would like to talk with me about these things, I hope you will come by to do that. And if you don’t care at all about what happens when you die, that’s okay. But tell your family that too, so that they’ll be free to make the best decisions they can make.

If talking with your family about these things is too difficult for you, I still hope you will spend some time thinking about these topics. Because acknowledging our own mortality is one way we can better value and appreciate our own living. It is living with integrity that each part of the journey is a piece of the whole. And it is God who guides our paths, no matter where we may be on the journey.

So, as we continue down this path toward Easter, where Jesus will completely change our understanding of death and new life, I hope that we can begin some conversations that will make our whole journey better, and will help us better appreciate how all the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness.
Make me to know your ways, O Lord;
teach me your paths.
Lead me in your truth, and teach me,
for you are the God of my salvation;
for you I wait all day long.