KOH2RVA: 120

In my sermon a few weeks ago I told the story of my friend Harvey Michael, who was headed for Japan on a Navy troop ship during World War II, certain that he was going to die in combat, when—to his amazement—the war ended, the ship turned around, and he found himself the owner of a life he never thought he would have—a “bonus life.’ He said he thought he should do something good with it and decided that he would either be a Baptist preacher or a high school English teacher.

The preaching didn’t work out.

So, for most of his life he was a high school English teacher, and a good one, but the thing I admired most about him was the way he lived his life, as if each day were a gift. I told his story in my sermon on December 23 and then, a few days ago, got this letter from Deborah Hocutt, one of our newer members:

Dr Somerville:

I’ve listened to your message on the “bonus life” over and over. Oh, how I wish it would sink into the hearts of those at FBC and beyond!

For over twenty years I have been living that “bonus life.” Knowing that the doctors had never seen anyone survive with stage 4 cervical cancer like mine, I am keenly aware of what a God-given miracle each day is for me, and that each “bonus day” is an opportunity to give back to God by being His human arms to embrace, and His human smile to show love and compassion. I don’t take this responsibility lightly but with much love and gratitude.

If others could, just for a moment, know what it’s like to live “God Days”—that bonus time—oh, how we would see heaven on earth! So don’t stop shouting it from the rooftops. Don’t stop praying and witnessing. Don’t stop talking about a bonus life!!!

Deborah

OK, Deborah. I’ll keep talking about it. You keep living it. And let’s see if we can find some others who will use their “bonus lives” to bring the Kingdom of Heaven to Richmond, Virginia. Maybe some of them will comment on this blog, and tell us what they’re up to.

Must Death Have the Last Word?

The earthquake and tsunami in Japan have not only shaken the world, they’ve shaken a lot of people’s faith.  “How could a good and loving God allow such a thing to happen?” they ask.  It’s the oldest question in the theology book, and if there were an easy answer it would have been answered a long time ago. 

Some people answer it by saying there isn’t a good and loving God, and the devastation in Japan is evidence.  Some say God is good but not very powerful, and therefore not able to prevent such things.  Others say God is powerful but not very good, and therefore not interested in preventing them.  Christian theology, for the most part, has simply acknowledged the tension: God is all-loving; God is all-powerful; terrible things happen.

Maybe it would help to look at that word terrible.  We think it’s terrible that so many people died in this recent tragedy, but the truth is that everything in this world is finite.  Nothing lasts forever, and especially not something as frail and vulnerable as human beings.  So, it’s not a question of whether we are going to die, but only when and how. 

You could make a long list of all the possible whens and hows, but with the possible exception of dying in your sleep in extreme old age, none of the options is all that attractive.  And yet this is precisely the point at which we start shaking our fists at the sky.  “Why, God!  Why did  this person have to die at [choose one from Column A] from [choose one from Column B] ?”  The when and how often seem irreconcilable with the notion of a good and loving God.

But suppose a good and loving God is spending his time on that other question, not the when  or how but the whether.  And suppose it’s not the question of whether we will die that he is working on, but the question of whether or not death will have the last word.  The answer to that question is the gospel itself, and the answer is a resounding “NO!”

Maybe you could keep that in mind next time you read the obituaries, when you see all those people smiling up at you from the newspaper and read all those stories about when and how they died.  Maybe you could cling to the truth that  this is not the end of their story, nor will death have the last word.

Oh, Heavenly Days!

Yesterday was an amazing day at Richmond’s First Baptist Church.  At the 8:30 service six new members came down the aisle, and at the 11:00 service I had the joy of baptizing Dennis Danaeue, a formerly homeless man who has found a home at First Baptist, and who is as sincere in his desire to follow Jesus as anyone I have ever met.  Between services I went to the dining hall for a children’s Sunday school event and laughed out loud at “Fannie Firstchurch” (Minister of Music Phil Mitchell wearing a towering blonde wig) exhorting children to “memorize the entire Bible, all 166 books!”*  After the 11:00 service I walked across Park Avenue to the Pusey House for the International Friendship Luncheon, where I spent some time chatting with Nathan from Zambia, Kanae from Japan, and a tiny girl from Bangladesh whose name is Dighi but who likes to be called “Doctor Pinky.”  I was thrilled to see people from all over the world finding a place at First Baptist Church, and walked home in a state of exhilaration.

 

After my (mandatory) Sunday afternoon nap I drove downtown to savor the last few hours of the Richmond Folk Festival.  The weather couldn’t have been any more beautiful, and when I walked across the pedestrian bridge to Brown’s Island, and looked down on those huge, white festival tents, the crowds of people milling around, the sound of music filling the air, and the smell of ethnic food wafting on the afternoon breeze, well…it made me glad to live in Richmond.  I strolled from tent to tent admiring the funny hats people were wearing, watching children turn cartwheels on the lawn, and striking up conversations with church members (like Brenda and Charlie Finley) and complete strangers (like the woman from Jamaica who insisted I visit her Seventh Day Adventist church). 

 

One of the visitors to this blog site has asked if I will share my views on Heaven.  I probably will at some point, but on Sunday I think I was as close to Heaven as we can come on earth.  And if I get to Heaven someday and find that there is no ethnic food, or honest laughter, or children turning cartwheels on the lawn, it won’t be Heaven at all, will it?

 

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*Extra credit to anyone who knows there are only 66 books in the Bible.