Preparing for Death Every Sunday

Tomorrow is the Lord’s Day. We do not know from one day to the next what lies in store for us. Proverbs teaches us to remember that: A man’s heart plans his way, but the LORD directs his steps (16:9), and there are many plans in a man’s heart, nevertheless the LORD’s counsel—that will stand (19:21). Our life is but a vapor that appears for a time and then vanishes away (Jas. 4:14). Moreover, the LORD knows our frame, he remembers that we are dust (Ps. 103:14).

You might expect that our inescapable frailty and and certain mortality would be regularly at the forefront of our minds, but for most people this is not so. Many people never think of their own death or the likelihood that any number of factors—whether pleasant or painful—may intrude to change the plans we made for our future. While this knowledge perhaps should be common to all men, it is a particular mark of God’s saints. If the Lord wills, we shall live and do this or that (Jas. 4:15). Whereas worldlings will say: Let us eat and drink for tomorrow we die! The believer sees the same inevitability as a reason for piety and obedience rather than self-indulgence. “You only live once” means very different things to those who serve Christ as opposed to those who live to serve only themselves.

If the Lord’s Day is a regular part of our spiritual discipline, then we will never be far removed from thinking about the end of our lives, the salvation of our souls, and standing before the Lord in judgment. There are friends I have not seen in-person for many years, some I have not even spoken to in more than a decade. But when I take my last breath in this world and open my eyes for the first time in heaven, I want the next thing I see to be very familiar to me, even if I am looking at it for the very first time. As Lewis says in the passages we recently quoted from The Problem of Pain, Christ will look like our first love because he is our first love. The first time we look upon his face, it will be as if his face is the one we’ve known best all along.

You do not have to fear standing before God in judgment if you have made a practice of confessing your sins and standing before the judgment seat of Christ every Lord’s Day: hearing his pardon, receiving his absolution, and being comforted by the knowledge of his love and grace. You will not be idolatrously wed to this present world if you have made it a habit to wholeheartedly give yourself to the Lord’s kingdom on the Lord’s Day week after week. You will not feel out of place singing and praising God in heaven above if you have made a regular practice of it here below. The Lord’s Day is God’s gift and preparation for our eternal destiny, whatever may lie between now and then.

Sometimes illness, injury, or an inconvenient providence will intervene, but we should know with certainty our plans for the Lord’s Day each and every week. I was glad when they said to me, let us go into the house of the LORD (Ps. 122:1). We still must say, “If the Lord wills, we will meet with the church tomorrow morning.” But may the Lord will it, may he give us the grace and strength to do so. We need it. The Lord’s Day is the ministry of God to us. We are not merely serving him in worship; the worship is God’s service of mercy to us, miserable sinners, but not miserable in Christ. --JME

Memorial Homily: Crossing Safely When Summoned by the Lord

Psalm 23: Crossing Safely When Summoned by the Lord

I had the privilege of being the last friend to visit with LuAnne before she died. I sat with her for a couple of hours on Sunday before evening worship, and she died later that night. By that time, of course, she was no longer conscious. She slept on the bed as I sat in a chair beside her and read Scripture aloud, prayed, and read several pieces to her from John Bunyan.

The last thing I read to her was the final chapter of Part Two of The Pilgrim’s Progress. Many people are familiar with Part One, but I have found over the years that fewer people are aware of Part Two. In Part One Christian becomes a pilgrim and journeys to the Celestial City, but his family refuses to accompany him. Part Two is the story of what happened afterward, when his family’s minds are changed, his wife becomes Christiana, and she and their children go on pilgrimage to the Celestial City, following the footsteps of their father.

The last chapter of Part Two depicts Christiana and various friends from her journey assembled on the bank of the river across from the city. The river depicts death, and the city is Heaven. There the pilgrims wait for word from the King telling them when they are to cross to the other side.

After this, I beheld until they were come unto the Land of Beulah, where the sun shineth night and day. Here, because they were weary, they betook themselves awhile to rest. And because this country was common for pilgrims, and because the orchards and vineyards that were here belong to the King of the Celestial Country, therefore they were permitted to make bold with any of His things. But a little while soon refreshed them here; for the bells did so ring, and the trumpets continually sound so melodiously, that they could not sleep and yet they received as much refreshing as if they had slept their sleep never so soundly. Here also the noise of them that walked in the streets was, "More pilgrims are come to town!" And another would answer, saying, "And so many went over the water, and were let in at the golden gates, to-day!" They would cry again, "There is now a legion of Shining Ones just come to town, by which we know that there are more pilgrims upon the road; for here they come to wait for them, and comfort them after all their sorrow!" Then the pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro. But how were their ears now filled with heavenly voices, and their eyes delighted with celestial visions! In this land they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, tasted nothing, that was offensive to their stomach or mind; only when they tasted of the water of the river over which they were to go, they thought that it tasted a little bitterish to the palate, but it proved sweeter when it was down.

Eventually letters begin to arrive, and as the major characters prepare to embark on the final stage of their journey, they make brief speeches or offer final sayings on their way to glory. Christiana is the first to go across.

She called for her children, and gave them her blessing, and told them that she yet read with comfort the mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly, she gave to the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons and her daughters to be ready against the messenger should come for them.

The mark on their foreheads is the mark of God, the seal of the Holy Spirit, the sign given to them at baptism identifying them as servants of the living God, and the messenger that she anticipated would one day come for them was the messenger who would bring news of their own death.

Now, the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road was full of people to see her take her journey. But, behold, all the banks beyond the river were full of horses and chariots, which were come down from above to accompany her to the City gate. So she came forth and entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that followed her to the river-side. The last words that she was heard to say were, "I come, Lord, to be with Thee, and bless Thee!"

The next to make the journey was Mr. Ready-to-Halt who had been unable to walk easily in life and had to make his pilgrimage on crutches.

When he came to the brink of the river, he said, "Now I shall have no more need of these crutches, since yonder are chariots and horses for me to ride on." The last words he was heard to say were, "Welcome life!" So he went his way.

After Mr. Ready-to-Halt went Mr. Feeble-mind, whose last words as he crossed the river were: “Hold out, faith and patience!” Then Mr. Despondency and his daughter, Much Afraid, received their summons. “The last words of Mr. Despondency were, ‘Farewell, night! welcome, day!’ His daughter went through the river singing, but none could understand what she said.” Mr. Honest’s last words were: “Grace reigns!” Mr. Valiant- for-Truth quoted Scripture as he waded into the water saying: “Death, where is thy sting? Grave, where is thy victory?”

Mr. Stand-fast is the last pilgrim to cross the river in the story, and his crossing is of particular importance for learning to think rightly of that journey.

Now, there was a great calm at that time in the river; wherefore Mr. Stand-fast, when he was about half-way in, stood a while, and talked to his companions that had waited upon him thither. And he said, "This river has been a terror to many; yea, the thoughts of it have also frighted me; but now methinks I stand easy; my foot is fixed upon that on which the feet of the priests that bare the ark of the covenant stood while Israel went over Jordan. The waters, indeed, are to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold; yet the thought of what I am going to, and of the conduct that waits for me on the other side, doth lie as a glowing coal at my heart. I see myself now at the end of my journey; my toilsome days are ended. I am going to see that head which was crowned with thorns, and that face which was spit upon for me. I have formerly lived by hearsay and faith; but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I delight myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of; and wherever I have seen the print of His shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot too. His name has been to me as a perfume box; yea, sweeter than all sweet smells. His voice to me has been most sweet, and His countenance I have more desired than they that have most desired the light of the sun. His Word I did use to gather for my food, and for medicine against my faintings. He has held me, and hath kept me from my sins; yea, my steps hath He strengthened in His way."

Now, while he was thus speaking, his countenance changed, his strong man bowed under him; and, after he had said, "Take me, for I come unto Thee!" he ceased to be seen of them.

But glorious it was to see how the open region was filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players on stringed instruments to welcome the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in at the beautiful gate of the City.

Those were some of the last words that LuAnne heard in this life, and they are words that should ring in our ears and hearts throughout whatever remains of our own earthly pilgrimage. That night LuAnne crossed over the river of death, and we trust in God’s promise that she was carried by angels and received into Christ’s presence with the glorified saints and pilgrims who had gone there before. Can you imagine what it was like for her to cross over? As I told Dave and Kathy a few days before she died, she will not miss you, though we all will miss her. How different our sense of death and life might be if we could see it with the clarity that Bunyan did in the pilgrims’ story.

Psalm 23 speaks of the confidence we have in passing through the valley of the shadow of death. We will fear no evil. Why? Because we are strong or bold or brave? No, because the Lord is with us. His rod, to fight against our enemies, and his staff, to guide us in the good and right way, are a comfort and support to us.

Jesus is our good Shepherd, and we, as his sheep, must pass through that valley. But the Bible says we are no longer enslaved to the fear of death. Death remains an enemy, but it is an enemy Christ has vanquished in his death and resurrection. Death is a curse, but its holds no terror or danger for the believer anymore. Apart from Christ, men and women live in bondage to the fear of death, but Christ has set us free from its terror by taking our place on the cross and then breaking death’s power from the inside. In his resurrection, we have the forgiveness of sins and everlasting life, but only if we believe.

LuAnne lived and died in faith, and the promises and comfort and hope of the gospel apply to her because they are given to all who believe. They are not given to everyone. The forgiveness of sins and the gift of salvation is not a human right; it is a privilege of the children of God. If you believe in Jesus, then Jesus is your Savior, and you do not have to fear passing through the valley of the shadow of death and crossing the river. Jesus will meet you on the other side, along with all the glorified saints, which now includes our sister LuAnne. But if you do not believe, these promises do not apply to you, and you should fear that valley. You are not strong enough to travel it safely on your own. Only Jesus can bring you through it. You must trust him and not yourself. You must follow him, obey him, and stop living life on your own terms and for yourself.

Saving faith is a living faith, an obedient faith. Do you have such faith? Would any of your friends and family know it? Don’t tell me about the warm feeling you have in your heart. Do you believe? If so, there will be fruit and evidence. You will follow the Lord just as Bunyan’s pilgrims did, just as LuAnne did. We know she was a believer because we could see it, we could see her faith. Where is yours? Will you live your life for the Lord, looking to Jesus, anticipating that river, and eager to cross to the other side? Or will you live for yourself, in disobedience, and hope to claim the promises that do not belong to you at the last hour? A loved one’s funeral is  a good time to examine yourself, repent, and make your heart right with God. Your own funeral will be too late.

She called for her children, and gave them her blessing, and told them that she yet read with comfort the mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had kept their garments so white. Lastly, she gave to the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons and her daughters to be ready [for] the messenger [who would] come for them.

LuAnne was a sinner, just like the rest of us. But she believed in Christ, she loved the Lord, and she sought to serve him during her life. She died as a faithful member of the Church, and we trust, not in her goodness or her kindness or her religious activity but in the God who made her and saved her for himself.

For God so loved the world that he sent his Only Begotten Son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life. LuAnne believed in Christ, and that is why we have hope today, that is our comfort. She loved the One who loved her first, who loved her best, who loved her to the end, and who loves her still. May God grant each of us to live so that we may never be afraid to die, so that living and dying we may be His, the Lord who gave himself for us and rose again, who leads us safely through the valley of shadow of death and into the joy and glory on the other side.

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

One Last Time

This short essay is an expansion and significant revision of a shorter post I made in April 2020.

I am a preacher. It is my vocation and has been my full-time occupation for more than twenty-three years. Every week I write sermons, new sermons, sometimes one, sometimes three, and I have done so continuously for almost a quarter of a century. That is a lot of sermons, literally thousands. Not all of them have been good. Some have been very bad. Quite a few I would gladly disown and dissent from what I taught in them. But I wrote every one, for better or worse, and preached them to thousands of people who came to hear a word from God.

When I finish writing my sermons for the week, it puts me in a somber but peaceful mood. This is not because the work is done. In one sense, it never is. As E. B. White said somewhere, writing is never done but is only due. I have a deadline to meet whether I am happy with the product or not. But I am somber when the last line is written and a final Amen is tacked onto the end because I am mindful that this may be the last sermon I ever write.

Some people never discover their mortality until relatively late in life, perhaps when a parent dies or they have a mid-life health scare. I became acquainted with mine when I was ten years old, and I have lived with it ever since. It has been my closest companion. Not a day goes by that I do not think about my own death. Memento mori is not merely a slogan; it has been, necessarily, my way of life.

For several years I preached without notes of any kind, simply studying the text intensely during the week, planning the general outline of what I wanted to say, and then delivering the message extemporaneously. Several years ago I decided to manuscript almost all of my sermons, and I have maintained that discipline ever since. It requires a much greater level of precision and attention. I do not adhere rigidly to the manuscript in the pulpit; I do not merely read it. But I am disciplined in what I want to say and how I want to say it. My earlier unscripted lessons had a fresh, powerful feel that some of my later messages may lack, but what the later sermons lack in extemporaneity, I hope they make up for in substance, structure, and longevity. One of the reasons I began manuscripting my sermons is that I did not want their content to depend on my delivery. So every week once the manuscript is complete, I think about the fact that if I die before the Lord’s Day, my wife and children will be able to read what I planned to say.

In “A Last Lecture: On Essays and Letters,” James Schall reflects on being invited to present his “last lecture.” He observes: “We would want our ‘last’ lecture to be ‘serious,’ but only in the sense that it pointed to the highest things and to our place within them.” And again: “We naturally suppose that anyone would want, on such an occasion, to leave something lasting, something profound, something altogether serious, though not neglecting the delight of being and the amusement of our lot.” It is not only academic lectures and sermons that ought to be reflected on in this way, but our entire lives. I enjoy running, but I have laid in a hospital bed three times expecting not to be breathing when I left it, so every time I finish I run, I thank God for the opportunity to run one more time. Are conversations with my wife and children any less precious? A sense of our own mortality is essential to gaining “a heart of wisdom” (Ps. 90:12).

Death is a certainty, unless the Lord returns first. Being born is terminal. We need to live as people that know it. Someday I will preach my last sermon. It may be when I am old. It may be many years from now. Or it may have already happened, and I do not know it yet. We cannot live every day as if it were our last. That would be unworkable. But we can resolve as Jonathan Edwards did many years ago “never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if it were the last hour of my life,” “that I will live so as I shall wish I had done when I come to die,” and “to think much on all occasions of my own dying, and of the common circumstances which attend death.” The writer of Ecclesiastes teaches us it is “better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for that is the end of all men; and the living will take it to heart” (Ecc. 7:2).

One day each of us will make our final contribution or enjoy one last act of participation in the areas that have occupied and largely defined our lives. The last lecture, the last sermon, the last run, the last family dinner, the last kiss with your wife, the last conversation with your child. Few of us will know when the last one has arrived. So resolve to make each one count. Thinking of the certainty of our death should not make us sad but joyfully somber. It can make us more contemplative, more productive, more humble, and more grateful people. –JME

[1] James Schall, On the Unseriousness of Human Affairs (Wilmington, DE: ISI, 2012), 139.

[2] “The Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards,” Desiring God (Dec. 30, 2006) <https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-resolutions-of-jonathan-edwards> (accessed June 9, 2022).

Re-blogged: COVID Fear (and Thoughts on Death) by Nathan Williams

This article is worth a read and thoughtful consideration. --JME

We have been hearing media outlets and our government tell us for a year and a half now that COVID is super-extra-duper dangerous, that it’s a killer, and that we risk everyone else’s lives if we walk around without something covering our faces. It’s hard not to believe that now, even though the risk level has plummeted extremely low.

Even in the worst periods of the pandemic I tried not to listen to fear-mongering but look at the raw data. It didn’t look so bad even then. If I were older, I’d probably have been more concerned, quicker to grab a vaccine. But at my age I have not been greatly concerned. I am certainly not fearful for my kids, who are all under 18 years old. If they get it, it probably won’t hurt them badly and it almost certainly won’t kill them. It will be like a mild flu for them, most likely.

But guess what? We will all die of something at some point. And I mean that in the most comforting and encouraging way possible. I mean, you could go get the vaccine and immediately walk out in front of a semi. You could be diagnosed with some form of cancer. You could have a heart attack. You will die of something at some point. All those who are spreading COVID fear are attempting to sell us on the lie that we can somehow cheat death if we just do the right things. But death is a door each of us will walk through, an appointment each of us will keep. I suppose if you are not ready to die, this is probably not so encouraging, but to someone who loves the Lord Jesus Christ and has faith in His promise of eternal life, death is just the beginning of eternity with God.

Read the article HERE. 

Dodging Bullets

Twice I have had a suspected exposure to COVID, twice I have been tested, twice I have quarantined while awaiting results, and now twice I have been cleared. Early Monday morning the family I visited over the weekend received an all-clear from their COVID test, and a few hours later my own results confirmed the same. Evidently there are still some things that can make a person ill besides the Coronavirus. We are relieved, on multiple fronts. First and foremost, we are thankful the affected family is negative and hope the symptoms experienced over the weekend will not become severe or extend for as long as COVID infections sometimes do. Second, we are relieved my test also was clear. If theirs had been positive and mine had been negative, I would have felt obligated to obtain a second negative test before traveling to Presbytery later this week. But since both of our tests showed no evidence of COVID, I feel comfortable sealing myself into a metal tube and breathing recycled air with a group of strangers while flying to southern California. (I may have COVID by the time I disembark the plane, but at least I won’t bring it on the plane with me.) Third, we are happy my COVID test came back so quickly. My first some months ago took exactly 14 days. This one took less than 30 hours. For all of these blessings and many more, we sincerely thank God.

At this point some might be thinking I dodged a bullet, again. Despite my obvious foolishness in visiting ICU rooms and skilled nursing facilities to minister to residents, I have managed to escape multiple times unscathed. God alone knows how many times his secret providence kept me safe from much nearer misses and more serious scrapes. But I assure you I never dodged the bullet. I wouldn’t know how. It’s not like bullets can be faked out by juking and jiving, and I’m much too inflexible to pull off a realtime back-bending stunt like a messiah figure in a sci-fi film. I have never dodged any of the bullets the world, my enemies, and our mutual adversary have fired at me. But by God’s grace, this time as often before, I was spared.

First Kings 22 is a remarkable story which features one of Scripture’s greatest prophets and the death of one of its most villainous villains. King Ahab of Israel proposed to King Jehoshaphat of Judah that they team up to recapture Ramoth Gilead from the Syrians. Ahab realized he was not the most popular fellow in Syria, so he suggested that Jehoshaphat wear his royal robes while Ahab disguised himself as a common soldier. Jehoshaphat--kind-hearted, unsophisticated, not the sharpest arrow in the quiver, southerner that he was--thought this was a splendid idea, so while he put on his fine apparel, with the special red circle on the front and back of his robe, Ahab put on nondescript armor, a helmet, and climbed into a chariot, the ancient equivalent of rolling into battle inside a tank. Sure enough, the Syrian soldiers were particularly interested in identifying Ahab that day. He was the only prize worth finding. When the Syrians saw Jehoshaphat, they assumed it was the king of Israel. They gave chase like a mad sea captain after a white whale, but when they saw it was not Ahab, they lost interest and turned back. About this time a Syrian warrior named Random Archer drew his bow and fired an arrow into the Israelite lines. The arrow flew into Ahab’s chariot, slid between the joints of his armor, and pierced him deeply, inflicting a mortal wound. What an incredible shot! R. Archer must have been one of the most masterful marksmen in the history of the world. But actually, the Bible says he drew the bow “at random.” In other words, he fired blindly. He didn’t aim at anyone in particular. He just released an arrow at the enemy hoping it would hit someone. Sure enough, it did.

Now you may say that was a lucky shot or that R. Archer was a better artilleryman than he thought, but neither luck nor the human operator had anything to do with it. That arrow went where God told it to, and that day, he told it to bury itself in Ahab. Ahab couldn’t dodge it, even if he had seen it coming. It had his name on it, and no evasive maneuver could thwart its deadly purpose. There was not an arrow, spear, or sword that day that could harm King Jehoshaphat, no matter how skillful the warrior who wielded it. And there wasn’t a piece of armor, battlefield vehicle, or bodyguard that could save Ahab from certain death. God had made the appointment, and Ahab would keep it.

God’s servants aren’t always spared injury from the arrows and bullets fired by the enemy. Good King Josiah later died on the field of battle. Almost all of Yahweh’s prophets and apostles had their lives ended violently at the hands of godless men. Serving Christ is no guarantee you will not fall in battle. On the contrary, it guarantees you will be sent there and have arrows and bullets sent with malice in your direction. You cannot dodge them, so don’t bother trying to figure out how. You can usually tell you are nearing your mission target when the antiaircraft fire begins punching holes in your plane. The good news is that until the moment God has appointed, the bullets the enemy fires cannot harm you. They are lousy shots. Like Storm Troopers, they couldn’t hit the broadside of a Star Destroyer.

You can trust God to guide the enemy fire, to lead you safely through the fusillade, and not to allow any harm to come to you, even in death, except what he will use for his glory and your good. This is the confidence we have before him. The enemy’s fury and fire never was what endangered us. It was God’s wrath we justly faced and should have rightly feared. But Jesus took that barrage on himself. He quenched the fury of God’s wrath against our sin, and there is no longer any judgment for those who trust in him as Savior and Lord. So don’t worry about dodging bullets. They obey the direction of a higher power. God’s saints don’t dodge bullets; the enemy’s bullets dodge the saints of God. --JME

Cheer Up, It Could be a Brain Tumor

Ever since I announced that I and several members of our family had been tested for COVID last week, I have received daily inquiries about how we are feeling and whether we are symptomatic. I am grateful for the concern and completely flummoxed as to how to respond. After all, all of us felt fine when we were tested and in the days immediately afterwards. But over the weekend I had a mildly sore throat for a couple of days, for the last couple of days I have had a moderate headache, and several times I have felt a little winded, usually near the end of my daily run of 3-5 miles. Obviously, I must have COVID and should expect any day now to check into the ICU. Or maybe it is allergy season, maybe I had a mild cold, maybe my voice is strained from reading aloud to my kids for a couple of hours on the Lord’s Day, maybe it is hard to run 5 miles when the temperature outside has already hit 100 degrees. Then there was that monkey bite. He assured me he had not been out of the country recently, but when have you ever known a monkey to tell the truth?

How am I feeling? I’m feeling fine! Does that mean I am well? Of course not. Some of you were feeling fine just before you were diagnosed with cancer. Maybe the sore throat and headache are a sign of something very serious. Maybe I do have COVID and my symptoms will grow worse. If you are feeling unwell at all, it must be COVID. There can be no other explanation. Don’t bother me with statistics and declining mortality associated with the virus. Don’t tell me that hospitals are not overrun and that the vast majority of people, more than 99% of those under the age of elderly, are in no serious danger from this virus. Don’t bother me with facts because I have seen the news and received expert epidemiological insights from my friends on Instabook and Facegram. I know better than you that we are all going to die.

Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written,

The days fashioned for me, When as yet there were none of them.

(Psalm 139:16)

Being born is a terminal condition. Unless Jesus returns first or you prove to be another Enoch or Elijah, every one of us is going to die someday. It may be sooner than we expect, or much later. It may be in circumstances that we will be able to anticipate, or it may catch us completely by surprise. It may result from factors we might have seemed to be able to avoid, or it might be the consequence of factors entirely out of our control. But you are going to die someday, and so am I. God already wrote every day of our lives in his book before the first day of our life began. He did not tell me how many days there will be in my story, and I don’t need to know. I only need to focus on being faithful today in view of that day when I stand before him, knowing that one day today will be that day.

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. (Romans 8:28-29)

What exactly are you afraid of? “I’m not afraid of death, Pastor, I’m just afraid of dying.” If I had a dollar for every time someone has said that to me, I’d have a lot of dollars. Three times in my life I have been laid in a hospital bed and thought seriously I would not leave it alive. Three times in my life I have prayed what I thought would be my last prayer before seeing Christ face-to-face. Those moments are clarifying. I decided after the first time I would rather not die in a hospital bed. But I don’t have much control over that, and neither do you. I can eat my plant-based diet and avoid heart disease and diabetes, only to choke to death on a brussel sprout. I can run and exercise five or six days a week and control my weight and blood pressure, only to be hit by a car or keel over from heat stroke. Or I can become sick or injured again through circumstances outside of my control and end up, once again, in that hospital bed, praying what I think may be my last prayer, only next time maybe it will be.

It is easy to live in fear. This world is a scary place, and I have a very fragile body. God could have made us gorillas, but the man hasn’t been made who would not be torn limb from limb in hand to hand combat with a great ape. We each have a large brain with extraordinary cognitive capacity and also an easily cracked skull. God made our bodies to heal and repair themselves in ways that defy scientific understanding, but those same bodies grow weaker and more susceptible to injury and disease as long as we live. I don’t know if I have COVID or not, but I have been dying for more than 41 years. Some conditions might kill me more quickly, but being born on this side of the Fall will get the job done. Man is born to trouble, and thus man is subject to fear. But the Bible calls us away from fear, to walk by faith in God’s sovereign and saving purpose.

The Lord wrote every day of my life in his book before my life began. He wrote about the fall from a tree as a young child that wounded my pride but did not seriously hurt me. He wrote about the car crash sometime later that cracked my sister’s skull and sent several members of our family to the hospital but did not kill any of us. He wrote about the childhood illness that became a defining feature of my life and altered my path and career plans forever. He wrote about the miscarriage, about my son’s near-death experience with the same condition that afflicted me, and about the three times I lay in a hospital bed and thought I had seen my wife and children for the last time. He wrote about each of those experiences--and only he knows how many more--and he wrote them into the story so that in some way his glory would be more fully displayed and I would become more like Christ. We know, not we think, not we hope, not maybe if everything works out, we know that all things, not some things, not just good things, not most things, we know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are the called according to his purpose. Even my sickness, even my suffering, even my sin, even my sorrow? Especially my sorrow. “Better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for that is the end of all men; and the living will take it to heart” (Ecc. 7:2).

What if everything you fear is part of God’s plan and good purpose to draw you closer to him? Because it is. What if every experience in every moment of every hour throughout every day of your life was planned by God and ordered so that nothing can ever happen that is truly, ultimately, eternally to your harm but only, always, and ultimately for your everlasting good? Because it is. What if the fear you have, which is perfectly natural, is an unspiritual, untrusting, and unnecessary response to circumstances which are completely in the control and under the oversight of the God who loves you more than you know and better than anyone in this world ever could? Because it is.

And as we stayed many days, a certain prophet named Agabus came down from Judea. When he had come to us, he took Paul’s belt, bound his own hands and feet, and said, “Thus says the Holy Spirit, ‘So shall the Jews at Jerusalem bind the man who owns this belt, and deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles.’ ”

Now when we heard these things, both we and those from that place pleaded with him not to go up to Jerusalem. Then Paul answered, “What do you mean by weeping and breaking my heart? For I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.”

So when he would not be persuaded, we ceased, saying, “The will of the Lord be done.”

(Acts 21:10-14)

I am not suggesting we should be indifferent to the dangers around us. I am not suggesting it is possible to be completely without worry and care. If it were possible, God would not have to command us so often in Scripture, “Do not worry; Do not be afraid,” and then continue to forgive us for disregarding what he told us not to do. I believe in taking reasonable precautions. I eat a healthy diet, exercise, lock my doors at night, and wear my seatbelt when I drive. I even wear a mask outside when the government tells me too. And none of these things will make any difference on the day God has appointed for me to die. I am not a fatalist. I believe that God works through means, and our choices are part of how he works, secondary causes that make a difference in daily outcomes. But it is his plan that governs the outcome. It is his will that guides my life, not my own.

Christians should not be reckless people, but we should live with reverent abandon. Reverent abandon recognizes that God is in control, and we can trust him with our wellbeing, our lives, our children, and our future. Reverent abandon recognizes that worry and fear are sinful, even if natural, and are responses of unbelief, not of faith. Reverent abandon recognizes that until God calls me home, I am bullet-proof, and at the hour he calls me home, no amount of preparation or protection can thwart his summons. Reverent abandon recognizes that nothing can happen to me except what he will use for the greater manifestation of his glory and the greater good of conforming me more fully to the image of his Son. He will use even the worst of experiences of my life, the most painful, the most harrowing, and the last experience that will end my life, to draw me closer to himself and more fully prepare me for glory. So what are you afraid of? COVID? Seriously?

Sing, pray, rejoice. Jesus is risen, death has been broken, and the saints of God have been justified once and forever. Love your wife, enjoy your kids, celebrate your grandkids, and pray for the great-grandkids (and great-great-grandkids) you will never know but who are already known to our Lord. Live your life with gratitude and gusto. Stop moping around like someone who has nothing to hope for beyond this life. You were not weaned on a dill pickle. You were re-created, cleansed, consecrated, adopted, and called to everlasting joy in Jesus Christ. The earth is the Lord’s and all its fullness, but he did not make it because he needed a world--he made it for you. Enjoy God’s gifts and graces. Live fully, die faithfully, and then rejoice eternally. Maybe that headache is COVID, or maybe it is a brain tumor. Who knows? As a matter of fact, God does. If he is not worried about it, why should I? --JME

My Last Sermon

I don’t think I’ve ever shared this with Kirstie or anyone else, but every week when I finish writing the sermons for Sunday, it puts me in a somber but peaceful mood. This is not because the work is complete. I am rarely satisfied with the finished product, and as was reportedly the case with E. B. White, I simply have to stop working on it due to a deadline rather than because I am happy with it. But I am somber because every week it occurs to me that these may be the last sermons I ever write. One of the reasons I began manuscripting most of my sermons several years ago is that I did not want their content to depend on my delivery. So every week once the manuscript is complete I reflect on the fact that if I die before the Lord’s Day, my wife and children will still be able to read what I planned to say.

I’ve had a similar experience the last three weeks in recording sermons to be studied on Sunday. It is very odd to be finished “preaching” on Friday; I certainly don’t want to make a habit of it. But it has occurred to me each week that if I am struck down by the Corona virus or hit by a bus or drop a kettlebell on my head before Sunday… at least the sermon will still be available.

I hope your day is not made more morbid by eavesdropping on my thoughts today. That’s not my intent. Some of us were introduced to our own mortality quite early, and it gives one a very different perspective on life. I am sharing this not because I’m in the mood to bare my soul, but because every one of us, and our children, has an opportunity right now to reflect in positive and helpful ways on our own mortality. Death is a certainty, unless the Lord returns first; being born creates a terminal condition. We need to live like people that know it. Someday I will preach my last sermon. It may be when I am old. It may be many years from now. Or it may have already happened, and I am simply unaware of it. Am I prepared for this sermon to be my last sermon? What about my last conversation with my kids or my spouse? We cannot live every day as if it were our last. That would be unworkable, but we can resolve as Jonathan Edwards did many years ago “never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if it were the last hour of my life,” “that I will live so as I shall wish I had done when I come to die,” and “to think much on all occasions of my own dying, and of the common circumstances which attend death.” The writer of Ecclesiastes teaches us it is “better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for that is the end of all men; and the living will take it to heart” (Ecc. 7:2).

Thinking of the certainty of our own death should not make us morbid or sad but rather joyfully somber. Perhaps one of the ways this pandemic will positively affect and sanctify is by helping us to think more often and more productively of our own mortality and to live more faithfully as prepared people. -JME