All Life Is A Gift
Sermon
Life Everlasting
The Essential Book of Funeral Resources
Object:
For hours-old twin girls
All Life Is A Gift
Isaiah 43:1b; Mark 10:13-16
The details of Rebecca and Kaitlyn's lives do not tell the whole of their story. The details are that Rebecca was born at 7:56 Friday evening, weighing 8.6 ounces and measuring 9 inches long. Kaitlyn was born at 8:13, weighing 7.2 ounces and was 8 inches long.
They were baptized at just after 9 p.m. on Friday. They were surrounded by their church during their baptism.
They were able to meet their big brother, Collin, who was able to hold them, kiss them, and tell them that he loved them and would miss them.
They died minutes apart around 11 p.m. Friday, in the arms of their father and at the side of their mother.
Those are the details. They do not tell the whole story.
The whole story includes that I was not prepared to encounter Chris, holding his daughters, when I walked into their hospital room Friday night. It is not the first time I've encountered an infant as small as these girls, but I don't think I will ever "get used to it" to the point where it is not a bit startling.
I was not prepared to be asked to baptize them. When I left my house after Patrick called and said that I was needed, I was in such a rush that I put on a pair of jeans and left just as I was dressed; in a Sports Illustrated sweatshirt. I didn't take my Bible.
When I arrived at the hospital, I did think to take my billfold with my driver's license with me, but didn't think to bring my reading glasses. When Chris and Jenean asked if I could baptize Rebecca and Kaitlyn, I stumbled a half second and then said, "Sure. I need some water." Instantly, a nurse produced a cup of water. The chaplain offered a New Testament. I told him, "I don't have my reading glasses; I can't see it." I asked him to find the place in Mark where Jesus holds the little children close. He was so nervous that he couldn't find it. I said, "That's okay. I've got it in my head." And so, from memory, those of us who were there were the church, the beloved community gathered as we baptized Rebecca Anne and Kaitlyn Marie to be "faithful disciples of Jesus Christ."
When Collin arrived at the hospital with his grandparents, Chris asked, "Should we bring him in?" In instinct, I answered "Sure," which immediately put Patrick into a very uncomfortable place. We were all dealing with a situation for which none of us was prepared. But small children often have an ability to go to the heart of the matter without being weighted by adult concerns.
Chris left to speak with his son. Apparently, they had a meaningful conversation for he brought Collin into the room. Chris introduced him to his sisters, and then Collin sat on the sofa with his sisters in his arms, talked to them, kissed them, and told them that he would miss them. My telling of the simple details of that moment does not do justice to its power. Those of us who know Collin know that he is a remarkable little boy. You have no idea just how remarkable he is.
Then when Jenean was in recovery, and after we had a chance to greet her, there came a time for us to leave. Timing is a huge issue in ministry. There is a time to arrive. There is a time to leave. It came time for Collin and his grandparents to go home. It came time for Patrick, Kathy, David, and I to go home. It came time for Chris and Jenean to be with their daughters ... just the two of them.
Birth ... and death ... are very private. We allowed them their privacy.
The simple details of Rebecca and Kaitlyn's short lives do not encompass all that they were.
We need to remember two very powerful teachings of scripture at this moment.
The first is that life is a gift. All life is a gift. A life is a gift for as long as it is. I've searched the scriptures through and through and I cannot find where the Bible says how long a life is supposed to be. It is as long as it is. Methuselah lived 969 years. The first child of David and Bathsheba died an infant. A life is as long as it is. The worthiness of a life is dependant upon whether it made a difference. Rebecca and Kaitlyn have made a difference in the lives of their parents, their grandparents, their older brother, and those members of their church who were privileged to meet them.
Their death has made a difference in many of you who did not know them, for they have reminded us of a great truth that we've taken for granted: how truly blessed we are.
We are intelligent people. We "think and let think." We read the papers, keep abreast of the world around us, and we know that we have gone along here so many years and have not buried any of our children. We've buried children. I've done several services for children, but we've not buried our own children. We've buried someone else's kids. We've marked those deaths. We've remembered those families during our time of prayer. But it did not come home to us just how blessed we have been.
Our friend came into my office to talk Sunday afternoon. She was weeping, "This is so real!" And it is. The reality of life and of death has touched us deeply. Sorrow has found us. And we are forced to confront, in a very real manner, the question: "Where is God?" It is the question of the ages. It is the question of all people of faith in time of sorrow and despair. Where is God?
God is here. Now. Weeping. God is in the midst of us as we gather as the beloved community around our town. God's heart is broken, as is ours. God weeps as we weep, as we look at this tiny casket and our hearts hurt for what it means to all of us.
So, we take our children and hug them a bit tighter, and we hug each other a bit tighter, too. For we have also learned how powerful is the body of Christ.
When Chris, Jenean, and I met yesterday, I shared with them that I was struggling with this message. We proclaim at the beginning of every funeral service that we gather "to praise God and witness to our faith as we celebrate the life" of whomever has died. Mostly, we celebrate lives. Today, we gather to praise God and witness to our faith.
We know that Rebecca and Kaitlyn are okay. They are in heaven with Jesus. Jesus told his disciples to not keep the little children away from him while he was on this earth. He will keep them close to him in heaven.
In this reading from Mark, I would call your attention to think that as we have worked our way though Mark's Gospel in the preaching life of the church, we've not read many stories where Jesus touches people. He just doesn't do that very often, and then when he does, it's often with a bit of distance. But here, it is very clear that Jesus embraces children. He wraps his arms around them, hugs them, and receives hugs from them. I believe these verses are as clear an indication as there is in the gospels of the special and unique place which children occupy in the kingdom of God.
We witness to our faith this day, our faith in the Lord Jesus, our faith in the church, the body of Christ, the beloved community.
Sunday, I was deeply moved when my friend Mark spoke of this church being a "miracle" in his life. It is a miracle. Our worship life together is a miracle. Our prayer life together is a miracle. Our ministries are miracles, and they do miraculous things in the world outside these doors. But what is most impressive, most miraculous, is how this church gathers together to surround their own who hurt, mourn, or grieve. What is truly miraculous is how this community, diverse as we are, how we have come together for Chris and Jenean and their family, for we are their family.
Our faith is based on our love of Jesus Christ, his love for us, and the promise that we will never be left alone -- no matter what.
We are not alone, we live in God's world.
We believe in God;
who has created and is creating,
who has come in Jesus, the Word made flesh,
to reconcile and make new,
who works in us and others by the Spirit.
We trust in God.
We are called to be the church:
to celebrate God's presence,
to love and serve others,
to seek justice and resist evil,
to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen,
our judge and our hope.
In life, in death, in life beyond death,
God is with us.
We are not alone.
As we grieve, as we mourn, as we come together in grief acknowledging our human loss....
As we lift these little girls to God in sure and certain assurance of the life everlasting....
And as we hold each other tight, let us give God thanks for what God has done, and continues to do in our lives. Let us say in our hearts....
Thanks be to God. Amen.
-- William E. LaBarr
All Life Is A Gift
Isaiah 43:1b; Mark 10:13-16
The details of Rebecca and Kaitlyn's lives do not tell the whole of their story. The details are that Rebecca was born at 7:56 Friday evening, weighing 8.6 ounces and measuring 9 inches long. Kaitlyn was born at 8:13, weighing 7.2 ounces and was 8 inches long.
They were baptized at just after 9 p.m. on Friday. They were surrounded by their church during their baptism.
They were able to meet their big brother, Collin, who was able to hold them, kiss them, and tell them that he loved them and would miss them.
They died minutes apart around 11 p.m. Friday, in the arms of their father and at the side of their mother.
Those are the details. They do not tell the whole story.
The whole story includes that I was not prepared to encounter Chris, holding his daughters, when I walked into their hospital room Friday night. It is not the first time I've encountered an infant as small as these girls, but I don't think I will ever "get used to it" to the point where it is not a bit startling.
I was not prepared to be asked to baptize them. When I left my house after Patrick called and said that I was needed, I was in such a rush that I put on a pair of jeans and left just as I was dressed; in a Sports Illustrated sweatshirt. I didn't take my Bible.
When I arrived at the hospital, I did think to take my billfold with my driver's license with me, but didn't think to bring my reading glasses. When Chris and Jenean asked if I could baptize Rebecca and Kaitlyn, I stumbled a half second and then said, "Sure. I need some water." Instantly, a nurse produced a cup of water. The chaplain offered a New Testament. I told him, "I don't have my reading glasses; I can't see it." I asked him to find the place in Mark where Jesus holds the little children close. He was so nervous that he couldn't find it. I said, "That's okay. I've got it in my head." And so, from memory, those of us who were there were the church, the beloved community gathered as we baptized Rebecca Anne and Kaitlyn Marie to be "faithful disciples of Jesus Christ."
When Collin arrived at the hospital with his grandparents, Chris asked, "Should we bring him in?" In instinct, I answered "Sure," which immediately put Patrick into a very uncomfortable place. We were all dealing with a situation for which none of us was prepared. But small children often have an ability to go to the heart of the matter without being weighted by adult concerns.
Chris left to speak with his son. Apparently, they had a meaningful conversation for he brought Collin into the room. Chris introduced him to his sisters, and then Collin sat on the sofa with his sisters in his arms, talked to them, kissed them, and told them that he would miss them. My telling of the simple details of that moment does not do justice to its power. Those of us who know Collin know that he is a remarkable little boy. You have no idea just how remarkable he is.
Then when Jenean was in recovery, and after we had a chance to greet her, there came a time for us to leave. Timing is a huge issue in ministry. There is a time to arrive. There is a time to leave. It came time for Collin and his grandparents to go home. It came time for Patrick, Kathy, David, and I to go home. It came time for Chris and Jenean to be with their daughters ... just the two of them.
Birth ... and death ... are very private. We allowed them their privacy.
The simple details of Rebecca and Kaitlyn's short lives do not encompass all that they were.
We need to remember two very powerful teachings of scripture at this moment.
The first is that life is a gift. All life is a gift. A life is a gift for as long as it is. I've searched the scriptures through and through and I cannot find where the Bible says how long a life is supposed to be. It is as long as it is. Methuselah lived 969 years. The first child of David and Bathsheba died an infant. A life is as long as it is. The worthiness of a life is dependant upon whether it made a difference. Rebecca and Kaitlyn have made a difference in the lives of their parents, their grandparents, their older brother, and those members of their church who were privileged to meet them.
Their death has made a difference in many of you who did not know them, for they have reminded us of a great truth that we've taken for granted: how truly blessed we are.
We are intelligent people. We "think and let think." We read the papers, keep abreast of the world around us, and we know that we have gone along here so many years and have not buried any of our children. We've buried children. I've done several services for children, but we've not buried our own children. We've buried someone else's kids. We've marked those deaths. We've remembered those families during our time of prayer. But it did not come home to us just how blessed we have been.
Our friend came into my office to talk Sunday afternoon. She was weeping, "This is so real!" And it is. The reality of life and of death has touched us deeply. Sorrow has found us. And we are forced to confront, in a very real manner, the question: "Where is God?" It is the question of the ages. It is the question of all people of faith in time of sorrow and despair. Where is God?
God is here. Now. Weeping. God is in the midst of us as we gather as the beloved community around our town. God's heart is broken, as is ours. God weeps as we weep, as we look at this tiny casket and our hearts hurt for what it means to all of us.
So, we take our children and hug them a bit tighter, and we hug each other a bit tighter, too. For we have also learned how powerful is the body of Christ.
When Chris, Jenean, and I met yesterday, I shared with them that I was struggling with this message. We proclaim at the beginning of every funeral service that we gather "to praise God and witness to our faith as we celebrate the life" of whomever has died. Mostly, we celebrate lives. Today, we gather to praise God and witness to our faith.
We know that Rebecca and Kaitlyn are okay. They are in heaven with Jesus. Jesus told his disciples to not keep the little children away from him while he was on this earth. He will keep them close to him in heaven.
In this reading from Mark, I would call your attention to think that as we have worked our way though Mark's Gospel in the preaching life of the church, we've not read many stories where Jesus touches people. He just doesn't do that very often, and then when he does, it's often with a bit of distance. But here, it is very clear that Jesus embraces children. He wraps his arms around them, hugs them, and receives hugs from them. I believe these verses are as clear an indication as there is in the gospels of the special and unique place which children occupy in the kingdom of God.
We witness to our faith this day, our faith in the Lord Jesus, our faith in the church, the body of Christ, the beloved community.
Sunday, I was deeply moved when my friend Mark spoke of this church being a "miracle" in his life. It is a miracle. Our worship life together is a miracle. Our prayer life together is a miracle. Our ministries are miracles, and they do miraculous things in the world outside these doors. But what is most impressive, most miraculous, is how this church gathers together to surround their own who hurt, mourn, or grieve. What is truly miraculous is how this community, diverse as we are, how we have come together for Chris and Jenean and their family, for we are their family.
Our faith is based on our love of Jesus Christ, his love for us, and the promise that we will never be left alone -- no matter what.
We are not alone, we live in God's world.
We believe in God;
who has created and is creating,
who has come in Jesus, the Word made flesh,
to reconcile and make new,
who works in us and others by the Spirit.
We trust in God.
We are called to be the church:
to celebrate God's presence,
to love and serve others,
to seek justice and resist evil,
to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen,
our judge and our hope.
In life, in death, in life beyond death,
God is with us.
We are not alone.
As we grieve, as we mourn, as we come together in grief acknowledging our human loss....
As we lift these little girls to God in sure and certain assurance of the life everlasting....
And as we hold each other tight, let us give God thanks for what God has done, and continues to do in our lives. Let us say in our hearts....
Thanks be to God. Amen.
-- William E. LaBarr
