Whoo-hoo-hoo, look who knows so much. It just so happens that your friend here is only MOSTLY dead. There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive. – Miracle Max in The Princess Bride
This past Wednesday was both Valentine’s Day (a celebration of romantic love) and Ash Wednesday (an observance marked by sacrifice). The juxtaposition of these seemingly diverse concepts got me thinking about one of my favorite movies, The Princess Bride. This 1987 film directed by Rob Reiner has everything a romantic date might want: maidens and pirates, swordfights and acts of revenge, rivalries and true love. Without giving away all the plot points of this 30-year-old cinematic gem, I will say that, with great sacrifice, love conquers all. Love and sacrifice, the perfect combination for those celebrating the full range of experiences observed on February 14, 2018.
One of the pivotal scenes is quoted above: our hero is tortured to death and all hope is lost, unless Miracle Max, a village magician, can bring him back to life. Needless to say, it works and Wesley, the movie’s Prince Charming, is given new life. It works because the hero was only mostly dead, not completely dead; he was still slightly alive. Death and life, the same combination that forms the tension found in the New Testament Scriptures. Those who lose their lives will gain it and those who want to save their lives will lose it, or so the Good Book says.
For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin – because anyone who has died has been set free from sin. Romans 6:6-7
In his letter to the church in Rome, Paul tells believers that we have crucified – painfully killed – our old nature to do away with our bondage to sin. Unfortunately, many of us think that God is a bit like Miracle Max and that we can come to the God of creation in the state of “mostly dead” or “slightly alive” and think that we can be restored to wholeness. But that is simply not true. The prisoner with a life sentence does not receive a pardon because he is sick or because she is at death’s door. Our sin is not fully dealt with when we “mostly” remove it from our lives. We cannot fully enjoy our new life if we continue to hold onto a bit of our old one. Why would we want to try?
As we prepare for Easter with a season of sacrifice, allow me to remind all those who claim Christ as Lord to consider yourself dead to sin: have nothing to do with that old life, with its passions, powers and prizes. Consider yourself alive with new life in Him: embrace fully the pardon you have received, the gifts with which you have been graced and the peace you now enjoy. God is not Miracle Max; He is so much more, not only able to give us our lives back from the grave, but to transform us to be our greatest self.
Today is Good Friday, the day in which the Church remembers and reflects upon the death of Jesus. Each year, I focus on one of the gospels as they relate the events of Palm Sunday through Easter. This year I have been reading through Luke’s account of the Lord’s final days and am struck by what the good doctor states is Jesus’ final utterance (and arguably His “famous last words”): “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” In saying this, He is quoting from Psalm 31:5 and restating the assurances that David made of God about a thousand years before the cross.
From the context of Psalm 31:5, I do not believe this is a simple statement of resignation, as if Jesus is saying, “I give up”. Rather, it is a statement of confidence in the Father. Psalm 31 tells us that David saw his strength as coming from the knowledge that God is his refuge, deliverance, rescue, rock and redemption. It is in light of all this that David places all that he was, every aspect of himself beyond his physical existence, in the hands of God. Similarly, this is the same confidence that Jesus expresses from the cross.
This phrase is akin to the words that Jesus spoke in the garden a few hours earlier, “… not My will, but Yours be done.” It conveys the confidence that Jesus had in knowing that the plans of God and the guiding hand of God can be trusted. As the agony of the cross began to overwhelm the limits of His human body, Jesus doesn’t give up, but rather gives over control of His existence to the only one who can perfectly accomplish God’s will, the Father himself. And He is faithful, releasing Jesus from His mortal coil and redeeming us, lost sinners, from the power of death and sin.
Into your hands I commit my spirit; deliver me, LORD, my faithful God. Psalm 31:5
Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last. Luke 23:46
I pray that I’d have the confidence that David expressed or that Jesus exhibited. Sadly, I often see the opposite dynamic at work: when the going gets tough, I want to take matters into my own hands. Instead of committing my spirit into God’s hands, I futilely attempt to handle my trials and troubles myself. Instead of acting like David (who just prior to committing his spirit to God asks Him to “keep me free from the trap that is set for me”), I am more likely to stumble into danger by relying on my own sense of direction. How much pain could be avoided if I committed my spirit to His hands.
It is hard to see the empty tomb when we are enduring what, for us, seems to be the cross. It is at those times that we need to trust the hand of God, which comforted the Lord, rolled away the stone and raised the Savior. It is also the hand that can comfort, strengthen and save us.
I am praying that you have a blessed Good Friday and a Happy Easter.
This morning we will be attending the funeral of my brother-in-law, Stephen V. Silva. Last Friday, in the early morning hours, Steve lost his battle with cancer at the age of fifty-four. He was a wonderful son, brother, husband, father, uncle and grandfather. He was a good man and he will be missed – he was warm and loving, considerate and caring toward those around him. Today is a day of great sorrow for all those who knew Stephen. There is a small bit of solace in knowing that his physical suffering, ever increasing for the last thirty-seven months, has ceased.
A few months ago, I wrote that the three toughest words I am forced to utter are “I don’t know.” Occasionally, I feel the need to defend God – when tragedy strikes or suffering comes to call – from the charge that He is unloving or uncaring or unfair. Honestly, especially on a day like today, I am immensely inadequate to the task. I cannot explain to my mother-in-law why she is called upon to bury a second child. I cannot give reason which makes sense of this loss to my sister-in-law or my wife. I am at a loss to rationalize why some cancers enter remission and others do not. I simply do not have all (or even most of) the answers.
I do know that God comforts those who mourn. There is not a single tear that falls from a single cheek that He is not mindful of. While I cannot explain the problem of pain, I am certain of God’s promise to be near those who are sorrowful.
I do know that God promises an end to suffering. There will come a day when all things will be made right and sin, death and disease will vanish. While I cannot tell you when the pain will cease, I do know that God promises it will.
I do know that God has conquered death through His son. All those who trust in Jesus as Lord and Savior will never truly die and we will see them again in glory. I cannot state with certainty when death will be ultimately vanquished, I know it will happen.
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelation 21:3-4
Today, Stephen’s family, co-workers, neighbors and friends will share in their collective grief. Tomorrow, many tears will be shed. For many days ahead, the pain of loss will be palpable. I trust that God will be with those mourn and, eventually, there will be a sense of ‘new’ normalcy. Until that day comes, I ask for your prayers for my wife’s family. I ask that you’d remember Bohuska, Stephen’s wife of over 30 years; Michael, Anthony, Stephanie, and Jonathan, his children; Lilly, Gionni, and Sage, his grandchildren; Pauline, his mother; and Natalie and Jeanine, his sisters.
Best as I can tell, I was just returning home from a prayer meeting at our own church when a man opened fire in a similar prayer meeting within a similar church 975 miles to our southwest in Charleston, SC. At approximately 9PM, a young man who was welcomed into their fellowship and participated in their prayers for more than an hour suddenly stood, spoke a few words and killed 9 godly men and women at Emanuel AME Church. This tragedy has left many, including myself, with questions that are not easy to answer.
- What would cause someone to come into a church, of all places, and do such an awful thing?
- Is there no place where God’s people can feel safe?
- Why didn’t God protect His children from such a terrible crime?
- Could this happen here?
- Is this simply the beginning of the end?
I cannot answer these questions, other than to repeat God’s words to Isaiah: “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts (Isa.55:9).” It would be a fool’s errand to try and comprehend the ways and thoughts of the Lord.
While I cannot answer the bigger questions relating to the interaction between God’s sovereignty and the human will, I can state a few things that I know. I know that God’s plans are not thwarted by the gunshots of a 21 year-old. I know that every one of us lives with our days numbered by God’s providence. I know that we ought to live each day as if it were our last and keep short accounts with God and those around us – saying “I am sorry” and “I love you” while we can. Nowhere in scripture are we promised an earthly tomorrow; instead we are told to make the most of today.
Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. – James 4:14
And while we do not have answers to the big questions, there are things that we can learn from this utter tragedy.
First, be prepared – we cannot, thankfully, know the day or manner of our earthly demise and therefore we must live in the present reality that it could be today. Is there something you need to say or do before it is too late? Have you bowed before God and sought His forgiveness, confessing and professing Him as Lord and Savior? Have you shared your missteps and insights with someone so that the lessons of your life will have lasting impact?
Second, be empowered – we must live with a sense of urgency and risk (not recklessness, which is quite different, but I haven’t time to share that today). Live today with the bravery and courage that would enable you to welcome the stranger, comfort the troubled, confront the oppressor and love the lost. Live out the teaching of Hebrews 3:13 and “encourage one another daily, as long as it is called ‘Today,’ so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness.”
Perhaps, the lasting legacy of those saints who entered into God’s glory last Wednesday was that they were able to pray with and for this man with a heart of darkness for an hour, not concerned for their own futures but for his.