{"id":449,"date":"2021-02-17T12:52:00","date_gmt":"2021-02-17T19:52:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/peoriapresbyterianchurch.org\/wordpress\/?p=449"},"modified":"2021-02-19T12:55:56","modified_gmt":"2021-02-19T19:55:56","slug":"sermon-february-17-2021","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/peoriapresbyterianchurch.org\/wordpress\/weekly-sermon\/sermon-february-17-2021\/","title":{"rendered":"Sermon February 17, 2021"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

ASH WEDNESDAY SERMON<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

BY TERRY SWICEGOOD \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLord, teach us to number our days, so that we might gain wisdom of heart.\u201d\u2013From Psalm 90<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0I was walking around\u00a0 the community of Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania on a fine October afternoon.\u00a0\u00a0 It was one of those exquisite fall days, leaves in all their grandeur, a cerulean sky, crisp October air. As I walked,\u00a0 I stumbled upon a little jewel of a church.\u00a0 It was Anglican,\u00a0 small, Gothic, old, tucked away on a quiet street in Bryn Mawr.\u00a0\u00a0 But the only way you could get inside the sanctuary was to walk through the cemetery.\u00a0 You had to pass smack dab through the church cemetery to go into the main entrance of the church.\u00a0 There was no other way.\u00a0 Whether that was by design or accident, I don\u2019t know, but I think if I were building a church, that\u2019s the way I would landscape it.\u00a0 For I could think of no better preparation for worship each Sunday than to pass through the cemetery.\u00a0 It would remind us of those who have gone before us, who have fought the good fight, finished their course, and kept the faith.\u00a0 It would remind us that one day there will be a little headstone there with our moniker upon it, and that might help us each Sunday to focus upon what worship is all about: the eternity of God and the mortality of human beings, how we are but strangers and sojourners in this land. \u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0In our Ash Wednesday service, the pastor imposes ashes upon our forehead with the marks of the cross and says to us, \u201cRemember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0It\u2019s not a bad exercise to reflect upon our own deaths.\u00a0 It\u2019s not a bad exercise to reflect on that whether you are 18 or 80.\u00a0\u00a0 For when we reflect on our own deaths, it concentrates our attention wonderfully, and helps us sort out that which is urgent from that which is significant.\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0In this past year you and I couldn\u2019t help reflect upon our own mortality.\u00a0 I often thought I was in a race between getting the Covid and getting the vaccine.\u00a0 If I got the Covid, I wondered, would I survive?\u00a0 If I got the Covid would I be left with some permanent disability that would diminish my quality of life. \u00a0Lord, teach us to number our days that we may gain wisdom of heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Each time we attend a memorial service, we are confronted with the fact that life is mercilessly brief, that it runs from beginning to end all to quickly, that we do not have forever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Mortality\u2013I think we sense our mortality as we see our children and grandchildren grow older.\u00a0 As you approach middle age, you realize that your life is half over, perhaps more.\u00a0 A man talks about this experience.\u00a0 He said, \u201cAs a teen-age boy, my mother and I took a long bus trip.\u00a0 My mother was a young-looking fifty-three.\u00a0 On the return journey the bus driver stood outside the bus to help us get on board.\u00a0 \u201cHelp your sister with her bag,\u201d he told me.\u00a0 As I turned to correct him, my mother nudged me sweetly and said, \u201cDo what the man said, Brother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0I think I realized it when somewhere in my career the perception changed of me from a young, dynamic pastor to a wise, older mentor to my associate pastors. \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0The concert pianist Mischa Elman made his debut when he was twelve.\u00a0 At seventy-two he was invited to give a concert in Berlin, in the same hall where he had made his debut.\u00a0 After the concert he said, \u201cWhen I made my debut as a twelve year old people said, \u2018Isn\u2019t he wonderful for his age!\u2019\u00a0 Now they are saying the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Mortality, we feel it in the passing of friends.\u00a0 Or bodies that no longer work like they should.\u00a0 A woman who had been a life-long exercise freak and very conscious of her diet had a heart attack at 56.\u00a0 She said, \u201cWhen the doctor told me what had happened, I was stunned.\u00a0 It couldn\u2019t happen to me.\u00a0 I\u2019ve taken such good care of myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0But it does happen to us.\u00a0 Sooner of later, it does.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Will Willimon, chaplain at Duke attended a funeral service when he was a young pastor.\u00a0 His wife, Patsy, went with him.\u00a0 Willimon said it was the worse thing he ever saw.\u00a0 It was held in a little rural Baptist church in some back woods Georgia town.\u00a0 They wheeled the coffin in and the preacher began to preach.\u00a0 He waved his arms, he shouted, he mopped his brow.\u00a0 He said, \u201cIt\u2019s too late for Joe.\u00a0 He may have wanted to do this or that, but it\u2019s too late.\u00a0 He\u2019s dead.\u00a0 It\u2019s over for him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Willimon mused, \u201cGeez, what a comfort to the family!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u201cBut it\u2019s not too late for you,\u201d the preacher said.\u00a0 People drop dead every day.\u00a0 You may drop dead before you go to sleep tonight.\u00a0 Now is the time to meet your Maker and give your life to him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Willimon could barely contain his rage.\u00a0 He said to his wife as they drove him.\u00a0 That was the cheapest, most manipulative thing I\u2019ve ever heard.\u00a0 Imagine inflicting that on his family.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0His wife agreed that it was tacky and manipulative and callused.\u00a0 \u201cOf course,\u201d she said, \u201cthe worst part of all is that what he said was true.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0When we number our days, when we really count how few we have, we inevitably turn to the question, \u201cWhere do I stand before the Lord.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0I also think it lead us to reflect upon our relationships with other people.\u00a0 Where are we in those relationships which matter most.\u00a0 Have we offended someone and need to say a word of penance?\u00a0 Have we withheld something of ourselves that we should have given?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0The Apostle Paul says that we should not let the sun go down on our anger (Ephesians 4:26).\u00a0 I think he means that we shouldn\u2019t go to bed angry with someone because if we should do before we wake, we will have been catapulted into eternity holding a grudge. \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Who is it you need to forgive?\u00a0 One person?\u00a0 Many people?\u00a0 Your parents?\u00a0 A brother, a sister.\u00a0 Somebody who did you in business?\u00a0\u00a0 OK, let\u2019s acknowledge that some people don\u2019t deserve our forgiveness.\u00a0 Let\u2019s acknowledge some people have hurt and misused us. Let\u2019s acknowledge that they may never ask for forgiveness. \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0But let\u2019s acknowledge at the same time when it comes to not being deserving of forgiveness, when it comes to hurting other people, when it comes to not always asking for forgiveness, God has that problem with each of us.\u00a0 Yet, that didn\u2019t stop the forgiving heart of God for sending Jesus Christ at the right time to die for our sins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0So nobody deserves forgiveness.\u00a0\u00a0 Would we want to fall asleep harboring hate and wake up in eternity the next morning.\u00a0 Would we want to appear at heaven\u2019s immigration office with these words on our green card? : He wouldn\u2019t forgive. \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0A woman who had recently become a widow wrote: \u201cI remember a moment shortly after my husband died when I paused for a red light, and a car with a young couple in the front seat drew up beside me.\u00a0 The husband said something angrily to his wife.\u00a0 She replied with a few fierce, rapid paragraphs, complete with gestures.\u00a0 Then she turned away, staring stonily at the red light.\u00a0 \u201cPlease speak to him.\u00a0 Forgive him for whatever it is, \u201c I found myself muttering to this girl I had never seen before…<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u201cMy husband and I were reasonably articulate and reasonably close as old-married couples go.\u00a0 But the number of times I have found myself saying, \u2018I wish I had told him that\u2019,\u00a0 continues to astound me.\u00a0 If we can recall, soon or late \u201csomething\u201d is going to happen to us, it probably will not make us less likely to become angry with each other.\u00a0 But it may make us forgive faster…It might give us an extra push toward opening up the subjects we have always put off talking about till later.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Lord, teach us to number our days and so gain wisdom of heart.\u00a0 Whether we are young, like our communicant\u2019s class today, with the sun just coming up on the horizon,\u00a0 whether we are halfway in the journey, with the destruction that wastes at noonday, or whether we are living under the sharply slanting rays of a setting sun, I can think of no words more meaningful or apropos than these.\u00a0 Take them home with you.\u00a0 Let them lodge and simmer in your hearts. \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u201cLord, teach us to number our days.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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