The Gardener Came
Sermon
Life Everlasting
The Essential Book of Funeral Resources
Object:
For someone who lived a long, full life
The Gardener Came
1 Corinthians 15:50-58
(Celebrating a long life can be a joyous occasion. Although death should not be treated as a friend, even if death brings relief from suffering, we still count long life as a precious blessing from God.)
The meditation text is 1 Corinthians 15:50-52 (RSV): "I tell you this, brethren: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God ... Lo! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall be changed, in a moment in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet."
Time-lapse photography is a fascinating process. We can watch three days of the glorious blooming of a rose bud in ten seconds. You've seen the film produced by such entertainment giants as National Geographic. Flower after beautiful flower opens in full bloom on a giant colored screen, accompanied by classical music. It's impressive because it's quick.
Although we've seen it thousands and tens of thousands of times each spring, as daffodils and tulips and phlox and crab apple trees burst into bloom and blossom, we haven't seen it occur so quickly that the mystery of the event has been revealed. Instead, day after day we notice slight changes until the change is complete, and we can cut the perfect flower for our table.
Today is the day ____________ is picked for God's bouquet. Today is the day she is in full bloom. If we could see her life unfold like the film of National Geographic, the camera would have started up long ago, in a different century. We would witness God's presence at her birth and through her childhood. Friends and playmates would make quick appearances and disappear, each a gift of God. There would be a spurt of growth, the beauty of youth, a boy friend, a wedding, a husband. We would all say, "Wonderful! Full bloom, full color." But the film would roll on, and we would see the family come. Her children's births make the picture broader, and her grandchildren make it broader still.
If we watched closely, we would see subtle changes in the intensity of color. We would see the difference between cloudy and sunshiny days, days of her sorrow and days of her joy. But each day God would be molding her into something newer, not just older, but newer.
Then would come a beauty unmatched by everything previous: the maturity of faith. We would see the careful placing of walking stick to walking stick as she struggled to come to church. We could see new warmth come from her life as every act of kindness toward her was returned with her own affection.
You said it yourselves. She was so happy just to have someone touch her. But now we make a big mistake if we think the film has ended. Now we need a special lens, a mystery lens, that can help us see what has indeed happened, but out of our view.
The gardener came. The Lord. As he walked through this garden, this whole family of faith, he saw an exquisite blossom, ready for transplanting, ____________. Look with the eye of faith and believe that God, in his tender touching, scooped up our beloved to put her in the place where seasons don't end and years don't count.
Yes, it is a mystery, for our time-lapse camera becomes obsolete now, because time itself is obsolete. The last few frames show us gathered again, this moment, as even in death she has brought the family together to give thanks to God for her past life and for her promised new life. Paul said it for us: "Lo! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet."
If we could see the film roll on, we would see something like a seed bursting its husk to send out stem and root for new life. We would see something like a butterfly emerging from an old cocoon that everyone thought was lifeless. But what color, what wings, what soaring!
So we sing our song of thanksgiving now and commit our loved one into the strong, caring arms of the Savior, who has defeated the cocoon, burst the shell of the body to show us enough of the mystery to know that ____________ still is. Her transplanted life may leave a gap in our garden, but it's been carefully set, like a tulip bulb, in a new place where death has no power.
As we sing our song of thanksgiving, may we be careful to remember to thank the risen Christ. We remember not only what he has done for her until now, but also what he is doing. Lo! I tell you a mystery. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, so fast no camera can record it, she shall be changed when she hears the voice of the Lord: "____________. It's Easter. Get up. Behold the place I've prepared for you." Amen.
(Reprinted from "Grace And The Grave," CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio, © 1981.)
The Gardener Came
1 Corinthians 15:50-58
(Celebrating a long life can be a joyous occasion. Although death should not be treated as a friend, even if death brings relief from suffering, we still count long life as a precious blessing from God.)
The meditation text is 1 Corinthians 15:50-52 (RSV): "I tell you this, brethren: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God ... Lo! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall be changed, in a moment in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet."
Time-lapse photography is a fascinating process. We can watch three days of the glorious blooming of a rose bud in ten seconds. You've seen the film produced by such entertainment giants as National Geographic. Flower after beautiful flower opens in full bloom on a giant colored screen, accompanied by classical music. It's impressive because it's quick.
Although we've seen it thousands and tens of thousands of times each spring, as daffodils and tulips and phlox and crab apple trees burst into bloom and blossom, we haven't seen it occur so quickly that the mystery of the event has been revealed. Instead, day after day we notice slight changes until the change is complete, and we can cut the perfect flower for our table.
Today is the day ____________ is picked for God's bouquet. Today is the day she is in full bloom. If we could see her life unfold like the film of National Geographic, the camera would have started up long ago, in a different century. We would witness God's presence at her birth and through her childhood. Friends and playmates would make quick appearances and disappear, each a gift of God. There would be a spurt of growth, the beauty of youth, a boy friend, a wedding, a husband. We would all say, "Wonderful! Full bloom, full color." But the film would roll on, and we would see the family come. Her children's births make the picture broader, and her grandchildren make it broader still.
If we watched closely, we would see subtle changes in the intensity of color. We would see the difference between cloudy and sunshiny days, days of her sorrow and days of her joy. But each day God would be molding her into something newer, not just older, but newer.
Then would come a beauty unmatched by everything previous: the maturity of faith. We would see the careful placing of walking stick to walking stick as she struggled to come to church. We could see new warmth come from her life as every act of kindness toward her was returned with her own affection.
You said it yourselves. She was so happy just to have someone touch her. But now we make a big mistake if we think the film has ended. Now we need a special lens, a mystery lens, that can help us see what has indeed happened, but out of our view.
The gardener came. The Lord. As he walked through this garden, this whole family of faith, he saw an exquisite blossom, ready for transplanting, ____________. Look with the eye of faith and believe that God, in his tender touching, scooped up our beloved to put her in the place where seasons don't end and years don't count.
Yes, it is a mystery, for our time-lapse camera becomes obsolete now, because time itself is obsolete. The last few frames show us gathered again, this moment, as even in death she has brought the family together to give thanks to God for her past life and for her promised new life. Paul said it for us: "Lo! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet."
If we could see the film roll on, we would see something like a seed bursting its husk to send out stem and root for new life. We would see something like a butterfly emerging from an old cocoon that everyone thought was lifeless. But what color, what wings, what soaring!
So we sing our song of thanksgiving now and commit our loved one into the strong, caring arms of the Savior, who has defeated the cocoon, burst the shell of the body to show us enough of the mystery to know that ____________ still is. Her transplanted life may leave a gap in our garden, but it's been carefully set, like a tulip bulb, in a new place where death has no power.
As we sing our song of thanksgiving, may we be careful to remember to thank the risen Christ. We remember not only what he has done for her until now, but also what he is doing. Lo! I tell you a mystery. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, so fast no camera can record it, she shall be changed when she hears the voice of the Lord: "____________. It's Easter. Get up. Behold the place I've prepared for you." Amen.
(Reprinted from "Grace And The Grave," CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio, © 1981.)
