Community Church Sermons

The Twenty-third Sunday After Pentecost – October 27, 2002

Trails Through Tellico:

A Room With A View

Deuteronomy 34:1-12

 

Elsie Morris passed on to the larger life last Thursday, just four days short of her one hundred and sixth birthday! As they say, Elsie lived to a ripe old age! When Sandy and I first met her, back in 1974, Elsie was nearly eighty years old, and yet, she was much younger than that, if you know what I mean. Elsie had a wonderful, forward-looking spirit that inspired both her family and her friends, and our church was truly blessed by her presence.

 

Her voice was important when we made decisions, and Elsie had a way of seeing things in a larger perspective. Having been divorced with a small child to raise, Elsie had a great sensitivity for single mothers and others who live in a world that pushes them to the side. And whenever we had one of those situations where a young girl by herself showed up to have her baby baptized, Elsie would see to it that any wagging tongues stopped wagging. Elsie saw the good in people. And the hope in people. To her, the future was a bright place filled with the promises of God. No wonder the church made her a Deaconess Emerita when she became too frail to actively serve any longer.

 

Even death was not something Elsie feared. When I buried Elsie’s husband Charlie sometime back in the ‘70’s, Elsie quipped that she couldn’t wait to die herself just to hear the stories I would tell about her. So I’m sort of keeping a promise today. And one of my favorite Elsie stories is about how, after Charlie’s death, she and Grace Arns and Margaret Kindberg used to get together once in awhile to drink some Mogen-David wine and cry their eyes out while listening to the audio tape of Charlie’s memorial service. “We have such a good time!” Elsie used to say.

 

And as the years rolled on and her health declined, Elsie more and more looked forward to leaving her frail body behind and going to be with the Lord, and Charlie, and her parents, and to experience that part of life that is brighter and better than what we can even imagine on this side of things. How amazing that, at one hundred and five years of age, Elsie Morris still claimed a future for herself!

 

She was a remarkable woman who lived her days in a way that’s described by our sermon title today: Elsie Morris lived in “A Room With A View.”

 

Now this is the third message I’m preaching to set a foundation for our Trails Through Tellico Stewardship campaign. The Trails books are well on their way to completion now, and so many of you have been extremely generous in the commitments you’ve made to our ministry. So thank you!

 

But even more important than the money we pledge is the vision we catch for our church. Like Elsie Morris in her life, you and I together will only be successful as a church if we dare to live in a room with a view. Churches, like human beings, are more than the sum of our parts. Like human bodies, the institutional structure of the church only exists to support and give expression to an inner spirit. And that inner spirit is brought to life by a vision of what lies ahead.

 

Our scripture text today is one of the most important and inspirational stories in the Bible. It takes place in the last days of Moses’ life. After wandering in the desert wilderness for forty years with those cantankerous Israelites – who are faithful one moment and faithless the next – who love Moses one day and hate him the next – who grumble and murmur and complain – who believe in God when it is convenient, but make golden calves when its not – after all the misery, all the sweat, all the pain, and all the labor of a trip that should have taken a week but ended up taking forty miserable years, and still there is no sign of the Promised Land, Moses has come to the end of his life. He’s 120 years old. Worn out. Beaten down. So very tired.

 

And God, in his mercy, leads Moses up to the top of a range of mountains called Pisgah, to the very summit, to the highest peak of all, which is called Mt. Nebo. And once at the top of the mountain, God speaks to Moses. God says, “Look!”

 

And the Bible tells us what Moses saw: in the distance, a little patch of green rising up out of the desert! The Promised Land! Springing from the barren wilderness, green pastures for cows and goats to graze. Never again will the children lack milk. Beautiful wild flowers for lovers to pick and bees to pollinate and make honey. The bitter taste of yesterday will be replaced by the sweetness of the future. Moses sees a small patch of green that he can only describe as flowing with milk and honey! And looking to the west, Moses sees the sea. The sea across which the grace and blessing of God will one day sail to reach the likes of you and me!

 

And passing on the blessing of this beautiful vision to a fine young man named Joshua, Moses dies in peace, and God himself buries Moses somewhere on the mountain.

 

What a miraculous ending to a man’s life. But I’m going to bet you don’t see the real miracle of what happened to Moses that day.

 

You see, the thing about mountaintops is that you get a 360-degree view of the world. When you’re at the summit – on top of Mt. Nebo, the highest peak of the Pisgah mountains – you can look north and south and east and west. And you have the option, you see, standing there at the end of a life that’s been filled with pain and disappointment and heartbreak and frustration, to turn and look backwards over where you’ve been.

 

You can look back and see all the places where people betrayed you. And life disappointed you. And tragedy befell you. And mistakes overcame you. And sin overwhelmed you. And where it seemed God let you down.

 

You can look back and see all the insults, slights, slanders and injuries of forty years in the DESERT!

 

Or….you can turn and look ahead…and see the little green patch of God’s promise rising up there in the middle of that desert.

 

I want to challenge you this morning with the claim that this choice of where we focus our lives, is the key element that determines our success or failure, whether as individuals, or as a church together. And more specifically, being able to discern and pursue the promises of God that God has planted in the middle of every human desert is what really makes the difference!

 

Last week, I shared with my Sunday School class a wonderful Tom Long story about a woman whose husband of many years was dying. But he was struggling so, needing to die, and yet  unable to let go. And this woman, his partner of many years, understood.. He had always been such a good husband and father, always responsible, always the protector and the provider for his family. And knowing that about him, his wife understood his reluctance to go. But she also understood the promises. So that day at the hospital, she sat on the edge of his bed and said, “You old redhead. I’ve loved you since we were kids together. And I always will. And now you need to go and be with the Lord. And its okay. We’ll be all right. We’ll take care of each other, and God will too. So you can go. And maybe once in a while, you can send a little redbird my way, just to remind me that you’re loving me and praying for me.”

 

And a short while after she said those words, he grew peaceful, and died.

 

Well, the family went home, and together they sat in the den, drinking coffee, and telling stories about his life. They cried, and they laughed, and then one of them noticed…the little red bird sitting on the window sill.

 

Now, I don’t know about you, but when people I love are facing difficult circumstances or even death itself, I find it so very easy to fasten my eyes on the dark side of the mountain, in the pain, and the grief, and the deep sense of loss. How easy it is to locate myself within the tragedy and find myself unable to move forward. But I’m hoping to become more like Tom Long’s friend who, looking into her family’s personal desert, was nonetheless able to see within it the small green patch of God’s promises to those he loves. And claiming those promises, she was able to let go, and help her husband let himself go, and the whole family was empowered to walk forward into the loving arms of God. What a difference it makes facing difficulty and death and tragedy when you live in a room with a view!

 

Same thing is true here in America today. The last year in our national life has been dominated by the nightmare of terrorists, suicide bombers, and Beltway Snipers. And I don’t know about you, but I think one of the truly tragic things about this terrible time of violence has been how so much of it has been perpetrated by children. A 17-year old boy allegedly involved in the shootings up in Maryland and Virginia. 13 and 14-year old kids in the Middle East strapping explosives to themselves. And it would be so easy for us to just throw our hands up into the air, and give in to the urge to simply decry the poisoning of our youth and to write them off as a lost generation. But that is not God’s way. That is not God’s vision.

 

No, God’s vision in the middle of a world that poisons its children is to call people like you and me, and churches like ours, to step forward and work hard to heal children. Though we can’t personally rescue all kids from the despair and poisoning that causes so many to become destructive, we can make commitments to our children, and grandchildren, and the children within our reach. We need to love them sacrificially and put their needs ahead of our own. We need to immerse them in values that promote good living. And we especially need to work hard nurturing them in faith, and helping them put down deep spiritual roots, and to come to know God personally as their Guide and Friend. You see, what the world needs in the face of this desert of violence are people who live in a room with a view!

 

A few weeks ago, I was privileged to lead a retreat on “Retirement: Life’s Best Chapter”. Pretty funny, huh? Of all the people there, Sandy and I were the only non-retired folks. What do we  know about retirement? And the way the market has been in the last couple of years, it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to join you retired folks until I’m about 117 years old! I hope you’ll wait!

 

But I was thinking the other day about something I shared with the folks on that retreat. Fewer than one percent of the world’s population will ever get to retire. And all around us are people with far fewer resources than we have, who have been hurt economically a lot harder than we  have. So what shall we do in times like these? Feel sorry for ourselves? Bemoan our bad fortune? Set up tents on the dark side of the mountain?

 

No, I think what God calls people like us and churches like us to do in times like these is to catch another vision. To see those who have become especially vulnerable during the economic downturn. And to make sure they are cared for. For me personally, that means I need to be more – not less - generous in sharing what I have. That means I need to become more involved in making sure that people are fed, and kept warm this winter, and treated with dignity and respect.

 

Do you see the true miracle of the mountain? Oh sure, after all Moses had been through, he could have looked back over where he’d been and bewailed the frustrations, problems, and all the dark experiences that had befallen him. Moses could have set up a shrine to the past and spent the rest of his days in mourning.

 

But he didn’t.

 

No, Moses dared to look ahead for the promises of God planted right there in the middle of the desert.

 

And God has placed promises in your life, too. There in the middle of your illness. Right there in the center of your family difficulty. Even there in the midst of the problem you’re facing that nobody knows about except you…and God.

 

Dare to look for God’s promises. Claim those promises. And start today moving toward those promises!

 

And for us as a church, what shall we do in times like these?

 

I believe we need to preach the promises. I believe we need to redouble our efforts at loving our children. I believe we need to make a commitment to stand with those in need all around us.

 

I guess what I’m saying is that we need to be more like Elsie Morris who, even at 105 years of age, lived in a room with a view!

 

And we need to be more like Moses who could have cast his eyes on the dark side of the mountain, but chose instead to stand on the promises of God.