1 Samuel 16:1-13, Psalm 51:10-14
Two years ago, a man called
the church and asked to come speak with me. When we met, he told me that his
son had died from suicide over twenty years before. At his son’s funeral, the
pastor lamented that it was too bad that the man’s son was in hell, using the
opportunity (a funeral!) to warn others against suicide. This warning, of
course, ignores the fact that most people who are considering suicide feel as
though they are in hell already.
So,
two years, this man, this grieving father, came to talk to me about heaven. In
particular, he had a little booklet about heaven that he had carried around for
about ten years. He’d read the slick pages over and over until they were soft
and floppy. He wanted to question me about the specifics of heaven. In
particular, he was very concerned about the idea that we will be able to recognize other people in heaven.
He
felt that if he was able to see who WAS there; he would also know who WASN’T
there. His little booklet told him to anticipate a great reunion with many
loved ones. This man believed it would never be heaven for him if he had to spend eternity knowing that his son
wasn’t there. He asked me how heaven could be a perfect place if, while he was
there, he would know that his son was suffering elsewhere.
This
man, like many others, grew up and had been told again and again about suicide
as an unforgiveable sin. Some people have been taught that it’s unforgiveable because
you can’t repent. Some people have been told that taking one’s own life is
usurping God’s power and privilege. We even, still, talk about suicide like
it’s a crime: we say “commit” suicide. I try to use the phrase “die from
suicide”.
What
does this have to do with David, who died of old age- probably in his
seventies? As we’ve been studying David on Sunday mornings and talking about
the cross on Wednesday nights, one of the issues arises repeatedly is the idea
of God’s justice. We want to think of God being “fair”- even though fairness is
not a Biblical principle in any stretch of the imagination.
We
like the story of God calling the little brother, the youngest, the
sheep-keeper . We like knowing that he was musical and had a heart for God. We
like the idea of David killing Goliath and speaking forcefully for the living
God of Israel. We are drawn to the deep relationship and promises between David
and Jonathon.
But
then we think of David using his kingly advantage to seduce Bathsheba and to
have her husband, Uriah, killed. We think of him over-indulging his sons and
placing them among his advisors when they were likely too young. He neglected
to lead his military generals. He was a mercenary for a while with the Philistines. He conducted an illegal
census of the people of Israel. He killed the remainder of Saul’s family,
except Mephibosheth- Jonathon’s son who was crippled in some capacity.
We
wrestle with the idea that David did these terrible things and yet remained
God’s beloved. There are events in David’s life that were perceived to be God’s
punishment for his actions, yet God did not withdraw God’s love from David. God
did not turn his back on David. God did not undo God’s promise of bringing
redemption to Israel and to the world through David’s descendants.
When
I met with that man two years ago, we talked about the nature of God. I asked
the man if he had ever thought that his son might be with God now, might be at
peace. He looked at me like I was crazy. In twenty-plus years, no one had ever
asked him this outright. I asked him if he thought soldiers went to heaven. He
said yes- because they kill in the line of duty and they can repent. I asked
about executioners and people who kill someone else in an accidental death.
Yes, because they can repent- he replied- they can go to heaven.
We
talked about his son, about his struggles and pain, about why he might have
come to the decision he did. I asked the man if he thought God was with his son
in those struggles. Yes, he thought God was there, but then his son did what he
did. In the long conversation we had, we went around and around. This man had
spent these many years believing his son was in hell. He just wanted to
understand how he, the father, could expect to find heaven a perfect place,
when he would obviously know that his son was not there.
We
do not live in a world of fairness. Even with laws and governments, there is
very little justice because of our entwined and enmeshed systems that
contribute to and perpetuate the struggles of many people. Given what we see
and experience all the time, it is very important to remember that God does not
function in the same way that we do.
In
a fair system, Jesus would not be from David’s line. He’d be from a lineage of
fine, upstanding citizens. All the women would be pure and perfect. All the men
would be robust and faithful. Jesus would be from Lake Woebegon- where are the
women are strong, the men are good-looking, and the children are above average.
And what consolation would that be to us? God comes and lives among us, but
lives as the crème de la crème? Instead, Jesus spends his toddler years as a
refugee, his youth in a backwater as the son of a carpenter, his early
adulthood working with his dad and friends in community life, his ministry
years with fishermen, tax collectors, and women, his moments of death as a
criminal and one wronged by both religious and civil leaders. This is God’s
experience as one of us.
And
we shouldn’t be surprised by it, since we’ve known from the moment that God
didn’t kill Adam and Eve, gave Cain a second chance, preserved Noah, called
Moses (the murderer), and used David to bring Israel into a place where they
could truly be a light to the world, if they so chose. God doesn’t do fair. God
does grace. God does power. God does God’s justice.
Our
justice would result in Mary Magdalene showing up on Easter morning and weeping
over Jesus’ lifeless body. God’s justice, God’s ways, have her met in the
garden by her rabbouni, her teacher
and Lord- Jesus the Christ. Our ways would have us muddle along, hoping to get
things right. Instead, God’s ways have Jesus meet us too… in all kinds of
times, places, and people.
Our
ways would have squashed David like a bug after the Uriah and Bathsheba
incident. Our ways would declare that some sins are unforgiveable- even those
committed in the depths of despair. Instead, God’s ways continued to use David,
defining him not by the worst thing David ever did, but by the best thing God
ever did. If God does that for David, isn’t that surely what God does for each
of us? Not seeing us by the worst thing we ever do or that ever happens to us,
but by the best thing that God ever did.
That’s
what I told that man two years ago and what I’ve prayed every day since for him
to receive and understand. It’s what I want you to hear on this Sunday as well.
The God of resurrection, the Christ of baptism and holy community, the Holy
Spirit of constant renewal does not see or define us by our worst, but through
God’s best.
Amen.
Comments