A Life In Rhyme
Sermon
Life Everlasting
The Essential Book of Funeral Resources
Object:
For a faithful woman
A Life In Rhyme
Romans 8:1-4, 26-27
Poetry meant a lot to Jeanne. She collected poems. She enjoyed poetry. And, of course, she wrote poems. She wrote some great poems, and today they continue to speak for her, even when her lips are silent and her pen lies still. I was very fortunate to receive one poem from her during this past year, and I was even more privileged to be able to read many of her poems and the poems she collected during this past week.
I think Jeanne loved poetry for at least three reasons. First of all, she loved a good laugh. Now, both you and I know that there was a time in her life when she couldn't laugh because life dealt her a losing hand. Circumstances had conspired against her, and there was no laughter then, only bitterness.
So when God helped her find a way to smile again it became a very precious thing. Jeanne's poetry was a way to give and receive laughter. When she took a class on poetry some time ago, she had to write poems in a variety of styles. I think she liked limericks. That's just a guess, but listen to this one that she wrote:
There was this big plate of food.
To leave any of it would be rude!
So I ate to my fill,
And then saw the bill --
I'm no longer in such a good mood!
Or check this poem out. It's not a limerick, but it is very descriptive. In fact, when I read it, I can actually see her in a grocery store. Listen!
You smell it, thumbs press it,
you shake it close to your ear.
You even rap it with your knuckles --
why? is not clear.
Purchasing a melon is serious business --
not a joke.
You never know if you're buying a good melon,
or a "pig in a poke!"
Jeanne found laughter for herself and others in poetry.
A second reason Jeanne loved poetry was because it helped her appreciate beauty. She always loved wildflowers, and picked them in empty lots. Listen to the way that she described her flowers.
First thing this morning, I went for a walk
My ears were attuned to wild flower talk.
"We're strewn about, it seems, without rhyme or reason,
But you seem to find us in every season ...
Many of us flaunt color of every hue,
From lavender, to purple, to heavenly blue.
Some people think we are only a weed,
But you see our beauty and that's what we need!"
I lovingly gathered an ample supply ...
Arranged in a vase -- they're a joy to the eye!
"Consider the lilies of the field" -- words fitly spoken by our Lord.
Miracles all around us, to ignore them we can't afford.
And the greatest miracle is the gift of God's love
Like wild flowers -- free for the taking -- sent from above!
Isn't that beautiful? You can see Jeanne out there picking her wildflowers, and in every bouquet was a sprig of Queen Ann's Lace. Remember?
This is what Jeanne wrote about that:
"Queen Ann's Lace" is like a bride
In full beauty arrayed.
Poetry gave Jeanne a way to voice her appreciation for life, for beauty, for grace.
There was a third reason Jeanne loved poetry. It helped her tell others how much she loved them. When David got married in May, Grandma Jeanne was ecstatic! She wrote a seven-page poem of intimacy, describing every move, every stage of life, every memory she had of her special grandson!
That was just one of the poetic markers she left along the way. Each Valentine's Day there was a special Valentine's poem to every grandchild. And when Mary turned fifty, and when Jeannette celebrated a birthday, and when someone did something that made Jeanne's life richer, a poem was in the works!
Not that long ago Jeanne penned these two poems. The first is about herself. She says:
My Life
Showing color
Bright red or somber gray
I choose, I reflect, so think well
God's Child
And the second is about one of her favorite topics. Listen:
Children
God's gift to us
Running, skipping, dancing
A great responsibility
Precious
Beautiful, aren't they? There is something marvelous about the way Jeanne's life was reflected in her poetry. And when we know that her favorite passage from the Bible is Romans 8, it makes a lot of sense.
In Romans 8, Paul reminds us that God is creator of all that we see. He spoke and it happened. He said the word and new planets and stars blazed into being.
The Word of God is creative, and Paul mentions in Romans 8 that our words are also creative. We are children of God, says Paul, and our words make that relationship real to us. We cry out "Abba!" to God. Abba simply means "Daddy!"
God speaks and we come to life. Jesus is our Shepherd, as he tells us in John's Gospel, and we know his voice. Similarly, when we use our words to bless, we are like God.
Some years ago, Malcolm Muggeridge died. He was a great journalist and author in England. Not until late in his life did he become a Christian, but when that happened, he spent the rest of his years writing about God and speaking about Jesus. When he was asked, shortly before he died, what he would like them to put on his gravestone as a memorial of who he was, Muggeridge thought for a moment and then said, "Put this on my gravestone: 'He Used Words Well.' " Just that and nothing more.
Why? Because, as James wrote in his New Testament letter, words have power in them, the power of life and death. And to use words well is to share in God's creative work on earth: bringing beauty, encouraging laughter, helping to heal wounded relationships, touching the spot in our hearts that medicine can't get to.
God used words well and here we are, loved into reality by his gracious speech. Jeanne used words well, too. In that she was an "image-bearer" of God.
There is a second way that God's words are powerful to us, and that is because they bring pardon and peace. Good words are redemptive words. Good poetry heals rather than kills. Says Paul, in this verse Jeanne loved so much, "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death" (Romans 8:1).
Let me tell you a little story that has opened up the meaning of that verse for me. When archaeologists first began their investigations in the cemeteries of ancient Rome, an odd thing that struck them. So many of the graves contained the same inscription. Over and over again they saw the same series of seven letters: N - F - F - N - S - N - C.
What did it mean? Why were those letters on so many of the graves?
The archaeologists were very curious, now, so they continued their investigations. When finally they uncovered some of the older graves of Rome they were able to read the full inscription, not just the first letters of the words. These were the seven Latin words that began with those seven letters: Non Fui. Fui. Non Sum. Non Curo.
What did it mean? Here's the translation: "I was not. I was. I am not. I don't care!"
Can you imagine it? Children buried their parents, husbands buried their wives, friends buried their friends, and over their graves they struck this cynical message in stone: I was not. I was. I am not. I don't care!
The cemeteries of ancient Rome were littered with that testimony!
Is that the strength of Rome? Is that the joy of human existence? Is that all there is to life? I was not. I was. I am not. I don't care!
You know it's not! We know there is more to our lives than that! That's why Paul penned these words in Romans 8. He knew that the sum total of Jeanne's life was more than those poor testimonies in Rome. He knew that the God who spoke Jeanne's life into being also spoke Jeanne's life into meaning. And God, who knows all hearts, knew what it would take to make this woman his child. He spoke to her the Word of grace and the Word of forgiveness. He spoke to her the Word of life.
Jeanne was no saint, at least not by her own initiatives. She knew that better than anyone else. After all, this is what she said about herself in one of her poems:
I have many traits you don't see!
All I can say is "Woe is me!"
With that poem she offered a little prayer that God, who knows the secrets of the heart, would forgive and pardon and bring grace. That's why Romans 8:1 was so important to her: "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death."
There is one more thing to think about this afternoon. Jeanne's poetry reflected both the creative and the redemptive dimensions of God's Word, but they also spoke about the fundamental value of her life. It was the one that Paul speaks of in Romans 8:26-27 -- the idea that even our prayers are but a reflection of God first speaking within us by his Spirit.
When Jeanne was taking her poetry class, she did well with any form that rhymed. Jeanne loved rhyming poetry, even if it drove her crazy. She even said as much in one of her limericks:
Writing limericks is a crazy game.
It gets under your skin just the same.
So let's quit with this bit
Of inane, silly wit,
For it surely won't bring any fame!
But free-verse poetry, poetry without a particular rhythm or rhyme, wasn't Jeanne's cup of tea. She was frustrated by it. In fact, for one Haiku poem she wrote this:
Line one -- you need five
Line two, you make it seven
Line three, I'm confused!
And so she was by something that didn't stick with the rhythm and rhyme. You see, there was something deep inside of Jeanne that had learned to follow a pattern. If the pattern was broken it was hard for her to see the meaning of things. That's why the bitterness set in, thirty years ago, when her husband suddenly died. That wasn't supposed to happen! That's not the way things work! The two of them had done all the right things, and this isn't how they were supposed to turn out!
It wasn't until much later, looking back, that Jeanne could see a larger pattern to her life. Only then was the rhyme and the reason to those events swallowed up in the larger rhyme and reason of God's eternal designs. In fact, one of Jeanne's favorite writings was the one called Footprints. It is the little drama that reflects on the struggles of life and finds the strength of God carrying us through the tough spots.
That's why, when I last visited Jeanne, I shared with her a poem that I had kept in my heart for many years. She loved it, because it is, in part, a summary of the rhyme of her life. It goes like this:
My life is but a weaving between my God and me.
I do not choose the color; he worketh steadily.
Oftimes he weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride
Forget he sees the upper -- and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly
Will he unroll the canvas and explain the reason why
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful weaver's hand
As the threads of gold and silver, in the pattern he has planned.
The rhythm and rhyme of our lives goes on. God used his words to create and heal, says Paul, and like Jeanne we are image-bearers of him when we "use words well." But the big treat comes when the poetry of our lives is read by God, and we finally come to know the pattern he has planned. Amen.
-- Wayne Brouwer
A Life In Rhyme
Romans 8:1-4, 26-27
Poetry meant a lot to Jeanne. She collected poems. She enjoyed poetry. And, of course, she wrote poems. She wrote some great poems, and today they continue to speak for her, even when her lips are silent and her pen lies still. I was very fortunate to receive one poem from her during this past year, and I was even more privileged to be able to read many of her poems and the poems she collected during this past week.
I think Jeanne loved poetry for at least three reasons. First of all, she loved a good laugh. Now, both you and I know that there was a time in her life when she couldn't laugh because life dealt her a losing hand. Circumstances had conspired against her, and there was no laughter then, only bitterness.
So when God helped her find a way to smile again it became a very precious thing. Jeanne's poetry was a way to give and receive laughter. When she took a class on poetry some time ago, she had to write poems in a variety of styles. I think she liked limericks. That's just a guess, but listen to this one that she wrote:
There was this big plate of food.
To leave any of it would be rude!
So I ate to my fill,
And then saw the bill --
I'm no longer in such a good mood!
Or check this poem out. It's not a limerick, but it is very descriptive. In fact, when I read it, I can actually see her in a grocery store. Listen!
You smell it, thumbs press it,
you shake it close to your ear.
You even rap it with your knuckles --
why? is not clear.
Purchasing a melon is serious business --
not a joke.
You never know if you're buying a good melon,
or a "pig in a poke!"
Jeanne found laughter for herself and others in poetry.
A second reason Jeanne loved poetry was because it helped her appreciate beauty. She always loved wildflowers, and picked them in empty lots. Listen to the way that she described her flowers.
First thing this morning, I went for a walk
My ears were attuned to wild flower talk.
"We're strewn about, it seems, without rhyme or reason,
But you seem to find us in every season ...
Many of us flaunt color of every hue,
From lavender, to purple, to heavenly blue.
Some people think we are only a weed,
But you see our beauty and that's what we need!"
I lovingly gathered an ample supply ...
Arranged in a vase -- they're a joy to the eye!
"Consider the lilies of the field" -- words fitly spoken by our Lord.
Miracles all around us, to ignore them we can't afford.
And the greatest miracle is the gift of God's love
Like wild flowers -- free for the taking -- sent from above!
Isn't that beautiful? You can see Jeanne out there picking her wildflowers, and in every bouquet was a sprig of Queen Ann's Lace. Remember?
This is what Jeanne wrote about that:
"Queen Ann's Lace" is like a bride
In full beauty arrayed.
Poetry gave Jeanne a way to voice her appreciation for life, for beauty, for grace.
There was a third reason Jeanne loved poetry. It helped her tell others how much she loved them. When David got married in May, Grandma Jeanne was ecstatic! She wrote a seven-page poem of intimacy, describing every move, every stage of life, every memory she had of her special grandson!
That was just one of the poetic markers she left along the way. Each Valentine's Day there was a special Valentine's poem to every grandchild. And when Mary turned fifty, and when Jeannette celebrated a birthday, and when someone did something that made Jeanne's life richer, a poem was in the works!
Not that long ago Jeanne penned these two poems. The first is about herself. She says:
My Life
Showing color
Bright red or somber gray
I choose, I reflect, so think well
God's Child
And the second is about one of her favorite topics. Listen:
Children
God's gift to us
Running, skipping, dancing
A great responsibility
Precious
Beautiful, aren't they? There is something marvelous about the way Jeanne's life was reflected in her poetry. And when we know that her favorite passage from the Bible is Romans 8, it makes a lot of sense.
In Romans 8, Paul reminds us that God is creator of all that we see. He spoke and it happened. He said the word and new planets and stars blazed into being.
The Word of God is creative, and Paul mentions in Romans 8 that our words are also creative. We are children of God, says Paul, and our words make that relationship real to us. We cry out "Abba!" to God. Abba simply means "Daddy!"
God speaks and we come to life. Jesus is our Shepherd, as he tells us in John's Gospel, and we know his voice. Similarly, when we use our words to bless, we are like God.
Some years ago, Malcolm Muggeridge died. He was a great journalist and author in England. Not until late in his life did he become a Christian, but when that happened, he spent the rest of his years writing about God and speaking about Jesus. When he was asked, shortly before he died, what he would like them to put on his gravestone as a memorial of who he was, Muggeridge thought for a moment and then said, "Put this on my gravestone: 'He Used Words Well.' " Just that and nothing more.
Why? Because, as James wrote in his New Testament letter, words have power in them, the power of life and death. And to use words well is to share in God's creative work on earth: bringing beauty, encouraging laughter, helping to heal wounded relationships, touching the spot in our hearts that medicine can't get to.
God used words well and here we are, loved into reality by his gracious speech. Jeanne used words well, too. In that she was an "image-bearer" of God.
There is a second way that God's words are powerful to us, and that is because they bring pardon and peace. Good words are redemptive words. Good poetry heals rather than kills. Says Paul, in this verse Jeanne loved so much, "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death" (Romans 8:1).
Let me tell you a little story that has opened up the meaning of that verse for me. When archaeologists first began their investigations in the cemeteries of ancient Rome, an odd thing that struck them. So many of the graves contained the same inscription. Over and over again they saw the same series of seven letters: N - F - F - N - S - N - C.
What did it mean? Why were those letters on so many of the graves?
The archaeologists were very curious, now, so they continued their investigations. When finally they uncovered some of the older graves of Rome they were able to read the full inscription, not just the first letters of the words. These were the seven Latin words that began with those seven letters: Non Fui. Fui. Non Sum. Non Curo.
What did it mean? Here's the translation: "I was not. I was. I am not. I don't care!"
Can you imagine it? Children buried their parents, husbands buried their wives, friends buried their friends, and over their graves they struck this cynical message in stone: I was not. I was. I am not. I don't care!
The cemeteries of ancient Rome were littered with that testimony!
Is that the strength of Rome? Is that the joy of human existence? Is that all there is to life? I was not. I was. I am not. I don't care!
You know it's not! We know there is more to our lives than that! That's why Paul penned these words in Romans 8. He knew that the sum total of Jeanne's life was more than those poor testimonies in Rome. He knew that the God who spoke Jeanne's life into being also spoke Jeanne's life into meaning. And God, who knows all hearts, knew what it would take to make this woman his child. He spoke to her the Word of grace and the Word of forgiveness. He spoke to her the Word of life.
Jeanne was no saint, at least not by her own initiatives. She knew that better than anyone else. After all, this is what she said about herself in one of her poems:
I have many traits you don't see!
All I can say is "Woe is me!"
With that poem she offered a little prayer that God, who knows the secrets of the heart, would forgive and pardon and bring grace. That's why Romans 8:1 was so important to her: "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death."
There is one more thing to think about this afternoon. Jeanne's poetry reflected both the creative and the redemptive dimensions of God's Word, but they also spoke about the fundamental value of her life. It was the one that Paul speaks of in Romans 8:26-27 -- the idea that even our prayers are but a reflection of God first speaking within us by his Spirit.
When Jeanne was taking her poetry class, she did well with any form that rhymed. Jeanne loved rhyming poetry, even if it drove her crazy. She even said as much in one of her limericks:
Writing limericks is a crazy game.
It gets under your skin just the same.
So let's quit with this bit
Of inane, silly wit,
For it surely won't bring any fame!
But free-verse poetry, poetry without a particular rhythm or rhyme, wasn't Jeanne's cup of tea. She was frustrated by it. In fact, for one Haiku poem she wrote this:
Line one -- you need five
Line two, you make it seven
Line three, I'm confused!
And so she was by something that didn't stick with the rhythm and rhyme. You see, there was something deep inside of Jeanne that had learned to follow a pattern. If the pattern was broken it was hard for her to see the meaning of things. That's why the bitterness set in, thirty years ago, when her husband suddenly died. That wasn't supposed to happen! That's not the way things work! The two of them had done all the right things, and this isn't how they were supposed to turn out!
It wasn't until much later, looking back, that Jeanne could see a larger pattern to her life. Only then was the rhyme and the reason to those events swallowed up in the larger rhyme and reason of God's eternal designs. In fact, one of Jeanne's favorite writings was the one called Footprints. It is the little drama that reflects on the struggles of life and finds the strength of God carrying us through the tough spots.
That's why, when I last visited Jeanne, I shared with her a poem that I had kept in my heart for many years. She loved it, because it is, in part, a summary of the rhyme of her life. It goes like this:
My life is but a weaving between my God and me.
I do not choose the color; he worketh steadily.
Oftimes he weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride
Forget he sees the upper -- and I the underside.
Not till the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly
Will he unroll the canvas and explain the reason why
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful weaver's hand
As the threads of gold and silver, in the pattern he has planned.
The rhythm and rhyme of our lives goes on. God used his words to create and heal, says Paul, and like Jeanne we are image-bearers of him when we "use words well." But the big treat comes when the poetry of our lives is read by God, and we finally come to know the pattern he has planned. Amen.
-- Wayne Brouwer