In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
We were never meant to be here like this, mourning in the presence of death. It was not so from the beginning, when our God spoke into the void from the heart of the Trinity and said, “Let there be,” and worlds were born and the morning stars sang together.
We were never meant to be here like this, powerless in the face of an ancient foe. It was not so from the beginning, when our God formed man from the dust of the earth and breathed into him the breath of life, and man became a living being.
We were never meant to be here like this, standing at the edge of the grave. It was not so from the beginning when God planted in the Garden the tree of life from which man was to eat freely and so to live abundantly.
We were never meant to be here like this: aching, longing, weeping. It was not so from the beginning when God said, “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”
We were never meant to be here like this, mouths and bellies full of the fruit of that tree, slaves to sin and death, exiled from the Garden and from the tree of life, returning to the dust from which we came. It was not so from the beginning when God surveyed his creation and said, “It is good; it is very good.”
And yet, here we are, where we were never meant to be.
A stone’s throw from Jerusalem two sisters grieved the death of their beloved brother Lazarus. Standing at the sealed tomb they knew with heart-breaking certainty, we were never meant to be here like this. They had sent for the Master; they knew he could heal their brother. They had sent for the Master and he had not come. He was here now, too late. Each of the sisters confronted Jesus with that hard truth – first Martha, then Mary: If you had been here, our brother would not have died. And so, we are here now where we were never meant to be because you did not come. And Jesus’ words of comfort and truth almost surely fell on ears deafened by grief.
Jesus went to the tomb, and seeing it, he wept. He wept because he, better than any, knew the truth: We were never meant to be here like this. It was not so from the beginning when I called you into being, when I gave you life, when I made you lords of creation and called you to tend the garden and be fruitful. It was not so from the beginning when you were called to grow in grace and glory and share the very life of the Trinity. We were never meant to be here like this.
And so, Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth!” And he who had died came out, for we were never intended to linger at the grave.
Some time later, on a hill on the outskirts of Jerusalem this same Jesus – the Resurrection and the Life – hung suspended between earth and sky on a cross of our own making, fashioned by the sins of the world, dying the death of all men. And his mother and a few faithful disciples – women and men – cried in their hearts at the foot of that cross: We were never meant to be here like this. And Jesus himself voiced the same as he cried out with a loud voice saying, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” He cried not for himself alone, but for all who in the face of certain death know we were never meant to be here like this; he cried out for us here, this day. And then, it was finished.
The disciples took their Master’s body, laid him in a tomb, and sealed him there with a great stone. They could not know the mystery about to unfold, the mystery hinted at in Scripture, written in icon, and sung in the praises of the church. He descended to the dead the Creed says. Indeed. And when he descended to the dead he stormed the gates of death and hell, took by their hands our righteous fathers and mothers – Adam and Eve; Abraham and Sarah; Isaac and Jacob, Moses and Aaron and Miriam, Saul and David and Solomon, Isaiah and Jeremiah and John the Baptist – took them by their hands and led them forth from captivity with the shout, “Come forth! You were never meant to be here like this!”
And on the third day – on the first day of the week very early in the morning – on the outskirts of Jerusalem the earth trembled, the angels descended, and the great stone rolled away. The women – mourners come to anoint the body of Jesus – entered the tomb and saw a young man clothed in a long white robe sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen! He is not here.” He was never meant to stay here; nor are you. Go, tell his disciples.
Just days ago we entered the season of Lent. Church tradition tells us that we are not to say the alleluia again until the great Vigil of Easter. But gathered here this day, gathered in the presence of death, gathered where we were never meant to be, we have no choice and so we cry out:
Alleluia! Christ is risen from the dead trampling down death by death and on those in the tombs bestowing life.
Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
And if Christ is risen, then we, too, shall rise,
in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality…Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.”
“O Death, where is your sting?
O Hades, where is your victory?”
Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Cor 15: selections, NKJV).
And so, Ginny, Pete, Kevin, and Ginny Lynn; Kathy, Kay, and Clare; all Bill’s family and friends, I say to you – yet, not I but the church – grieve, but not as those without hope. Grieve as those who know we were never meant to be here, as those who Christ has brought forth from a place of darkness and death into the realm of light and life. Grieve as those who know with a certainty passing all grief, that Christ met his servant Bill in the hour of death and said to him, “Come forth! You were never meant to be here like this.” Grieve for a time, but only for a time, for death has been swallowed up in victory, and we were never meant to linger by the grave. Grieve for a time, but only for a time, and then go forth singing:
Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
Beloved, comfort one another with these words. Amen.
We were never meant to be here like this, mourning in the presence of death. It was not so from the beginning, when our God spoke into the void from the heart of the Trinity and said, “Let there be,” and worlds were born and the morning stars sang together.
We were never meant to be here like this, powerless in the face of an ancient foe. It was not so from the beginning, when our God formed man from the dust of the earth and breathed into him the breath of life, and man became a living being.
We were never meant to be here like this, standing at the edge of the grave. It was not so from the beginning when God planted in the Garden the tree of life from which man was to eat freely and so to live abundantly.
We were never meant to be here like this: aching, longing, weeping. It was not so from the beginning when God said, “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”
We were never meant to be here like this, mouths and bellies full of the fruit of that tree, slaves to sin and death, exiled from the Garden and from the tree of life, returning to the dust from which we came. It was not so from the beginning when God surveyed his creation and said, “It is good; it is very good.”
And yet, here we are, where we were never meant to be.
A stone’s throw from Jerusalem two sisters grieved the death of their beloved brother Lazarus. Standing at the sealed tomb they knew with heart-breaking certainty, we were never meant to be here like this. They had sent for the Master; they knew he could heal their brother. They had sent for the Master and he had not come. He was here now, too late. Each of the sisters confronted Jesus with that hard truth – first Martha, then Mary: If you had been here, our brother would not have died. And so, we are here now where we were never meant to be because you did not come. And Jesus’ words of comfort and truth almost surely fell on ears deafened by grief.
Jesus went to the tomb, and seeing it, he wept. He wept because he, better than any, knew the truth: We were never meant to be here like this. It was not so from the beginning when I called you into being, when I gave you life, when I made you lords of creation and called you to tend the garden and be fruitful. It was not so from the beginning when you were called to grow in grace and glory and share the very life of the Trinity. We were never meant to be here like this.
And so, Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth!” And he who had died came out, for we were never intended to linger at the grave.
Some time later, on a hill on the outskirts of Jerusalem this same Jesus – the Resurrection and the Life – hung suspended between earth and sky on a cross of our own making, fashioned by the sins of the world, dying the death of all men. And his mother and a few faithful disciples – women and men – cried in their hearts at the foot of that cross: We were never meant to be here like this. And Jesus himself voiced the same as he cried out with a loud voice saying, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” He cried not for himself alone, but for all who in the face of certain death know we were never meant to be here like this; he cried out for us here, this day. And then, it was finished.
The disciples took their Master’s body, laid him in a tomb, and sealed him there with a great stone. They could not know the mystery about to unfold, the mystery hinted at in Scripture, written in icon, and sung in the praises of the church. He descended to the dead the Creed says. Indeed. And when he descended to the dead he stormed the gates of death and hell, took by their hands our righteous fathers and mothers – Adam and Eve; Abraham and Sarah; Isaac and Jacob, Moses and Aaron and Miriam, Saul and David and Solomon, Isaiah and Jeremiah and John the Baptist – took them by their hands and led them forth from captivity with the shout, “Come forth! You were never meant to be here like this!”
And on the third day – on the first day of the week very early in the morning – on the outskirts of Jerusalem the earth trembled, the angels descended, and the great stone rolled away. The women – mourners come to anoint the body of Jesus – entered the tomb and saw a young man clothed in a long white robe sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen! He is not here.” He was never meant to stay here; nor are you. Go, tell his disciples.
Just days ago we entered the season of Lent. Church tradition tells us that we are not to say the alleluia again until the great Vigil of Easter. But gathered here this day, gathered in the presence of death, gathered where we were never meant to be, we have no choice and so we cry out:
Alleluia! Christ is risen from the dead trampling down death by death and on those in the tombs bestowing life.
Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
And if Christ is risen, then we, too, shall rise,
in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality…Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.”
“O Death, where is your sting?
O Hades, where is your victory?”
Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Cor 15: selections, NKJV).
And so, Ginny, Pete, Kevin, and Ginny Lynn; Kathy, Kay, and Clare; all Bill’s family and friends, I say to you – yet, not I but the church – grieve, but not as those without hope. Grieve as those who know we were never meant to be here, as those who Christ has brought forth from a place of darkness and death into the realm of light and life. Grieve as those who know with a certainty passing all grief, that Christ met his servant Bill in the hour of death and said to him, “Come forth! You were never meant to be here like this.” Grieve for a time, but only for a time, for death has been swallowed up in victory, and we were never meant to linger by the grave. Grieve for a time, but only for a time, and then go forth singing:
Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
Beloved, comfort one another with these words. Amen.
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