Our story this morning begins with a few Greeks who come looking for Jesus.  Looking at the larger context, we presume that these Greeks come out of simple curiosity.  Maybe they just wanted to see him or maybe they were hoping for something more; like a sermon, a conversation, or a miracle.  So these Greeks find one of the disciples, Phillip, and say, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”  Phillip relays this message to Andrew and the two of them go to tell Jesus.

Now, being good Southerners, we know what should happen here.  Jesus should put on a smile and go out and greet his visitors.  Alternatively, Jesus could instruct the disciples to run a little interference and to report that now just isn’t a good time.  Set up an appointment and I will see them later.  At the very least, tell them that I will be speaking later and they are welcome to come at that time and join everyone else.  You know, I wish that I could preach this morning on something like that… about how we are to follow Jesus in terms of hospitality or about our responsibility to those outside of the faith.

Instead, we receive a response from Jesus that is far from the joy of Easter Sunday.  We receive a reply that has to do with a troubled soul and the anticipation of death.  So what happens to the Greeks?  We don’t know.  We only get a response that, left to itself is not one that is encouraging or uplifting.  Nonetheless, this is what we are given.  On this fifth Sunday of Lent, we are asked to remember our sinful part in the story of Jesus.  It is the part of the story where we, as God’s children, play a role in the destruction of God’s only son.  It is for our sins that Jesus dies.

Now, it is true that we are not to think of this story in a dispensationalist kind of way.  We are not to consider Lent as a point in the history of time when we are being condemned or judged prior to Jesus’ return.  This is not the Left Behind book series.  We must remember that Christ is already risen and is always being risen for us.  As George preached last Sunday, God’s grace continues to be freely given.  That reminder provided, this is a time in the church year when we are asked to remember and acknowledge the belief that Jesus suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried.  This is a part of the story that we, and yes, even our children, need to understand.

I remember a story on NPR’s “This American Life” program¹ where a father is asked to explain to his four year old daughter the reason behind Christmas.  The daughter sees the baby Jesus and asks, “Who is that?”  So the father explains Christmas, the birth, and that Jesus grew up to be a preacher.  They later read a children’s Bible together and the father discovers that the daughter loves it.  She loves the stories.  The Golden Rule was a big thing for her.  One day later, they drive by a church that has an enormous crucifix on the outside.  The daughter sees the cross with the body on it and asks, “Who is that!?”  The father, rather uncomfortably, has to finish the story about Jesus.  “I forgot to tell you the ending,” he says.  He explains that Jesus’ message was too troublesome for a lot of people to hear.  He goes on to finish the story, explaining that Jesus caused people to become so uncomfortable that, well, they decided to kill him.  About a month after the explanation of Christmas comes the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday.  Being that the daughter is off from school, the father decides to take off from work and take her to lunch.  And there, on the table where they sit, is a newspaper with a picture of Martin Luther King, Jr. on the cover.  “Who’s that?” the daughter asks.  Another explanation is needed.  “Well… he is the reason why you are off from school today.  He was a preacher.” The father goes on to carefully explain that he was a man who taught that you should treat everyone the same no matter what they look like.  The daughter thought about this and putting things together, she says, “Well, that’s what Jesus said.”  The father replied, “Yeah, I guess so.”  The daughter thinks a few moments longer and asks, “Did they kill him too?”

Even though I have no children, that story still shakes me up.  I think it should be disturbing that this child catches on very quickly to the worst part of human nature.  What is not so surprising, though, is that the father did not want to mention the death of Jesus or of Martin Luther King, Jr.  And I don’t really think that he was seeking to avoid the topic for his daughter’s sake.  I think that he just did not want to talk about it.  Can we blame him?  The thought of death is disturbing.  As with Jesus, the thought of death troubles our souls.  We do not like to talk about it and we do not even like the word, “death.”  Instead, we prefer phrases like: passed away, it’s a celebration of life, or he or she is in heaven now.  We simply cannot muster the courage to say a word that is directly proportionate to the word “life.”  John Calvin speaks to this saying, “Monstrous it is that many who boast themselves Christians are gripped by such a fear of death, rather than a desire for it, that they tremble at the least mention of it, as of something utterly dire and disastrous…”²  He is right, isn’t he?  Even though we know of the promises in Christ and even though we have faith that we will join the Kingdom of God, it troubles our souls.  Let’s be real: it down right terrifies us.  I think there are two big reasons for this.  The first is the most obvious.  While birth involves a nine month journey that includes a very noticeable transition in the mother, death is the opposite.  We have no clue when it will come or how.  Our best efforts to maintain a healthy lifestyle and to protect ourselves with the best security systems might change the odds of certain things, but they ultimately have no bearing on the end result.  The second reason applies to people of faith.  Our discomfort is the fact that Jesus calls us to a life that is countercultural to everything we know.  We might feel that if we are to be true disciples, then we not only need to believe God’s word, but to live it also.

To this point, it’s fine if we say, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  It is good to believe this as surely we all do.  It is when we begin to live it that people begin to grow uncomfortable.  And it is when we encourage and convince others to do the same that the world’s rules begin to become unraveled.  In this country, we are taught to pursue the American Dream that tells us hard work and a good education will result in a good living.  A living that we make for ourselves.  A living where we make money and we accumulate possessions.  But then Jesus comes along and says, “You know, I am afraid that your priorities are in the wrong place.  If you love that stuff more than you love me, then we have problems.”   On the outside, we say, “You’re right, Jesus.  I love you.”  On the inside, we wonder, “How do we tell Jesus to mind his own business?”  What’s mine is mine and I will share it on my own terms.  Jesus knows this about us and today counters with even stronger words, “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

So now Jesus is telling us to hate something?  I had to think about that one but remembered that we use that kind of expression all the time.  “Hey fellas, hate that I cannot make the ballgame, but I really need to stay at home with my family.”  “Hey Mom and Dad, hate that I cannot come home from college, there is just too much going on this weekend.”  Or maybe a doctor tells us, “I hate to tell you this, but you really need surgery.”  This expression, in today’s parlance, is a way of saying that what we prefer and what we have to do are often two different things.  We could respond to Jesus in this way saying, “I would prefer to be with you in your father’s kingdom, but until that happens, I have responsibilities here on earth.”

The latest edition of The Christian Century – which is one of the better publications within the Reformed Faith – was very timely in the subject of troubled souls and death.  In an article entitled, “Lessons Before Dying,”³ three books on the topic of death are reviewed.  All three are interesting for different reasons.  One of the books is written by an atheist who, in his words, says that life can sometimes be viewed as “an overrated way of passing the time.”  I have mixed feelings on that one… it is either really sad, really deep, or really funny.  In today’s economy, we do not have the luxury of considering school or work as simply a way of “passing the time.”  The second book is written by a Methodist preacher who is inspired by encounters with the dying.  Only a preacher could write a book like that, right?  The last has to do with someone suffering a mid-life crisis who has both a 97 year old father and a 14 year old daughter who possess more energy than he has.  Suffering from his own complications, he particularly cannot understand how he is unable to keep up with that 97 year old father.  You know, I felt the same during the Azalea Trail Run yesterday when I had both pre-teens and very senior adults breezing past me during the last few miles of the run.

Well, I’ve not read any of these books but I am sure that we could discover much from each of them.  If nothing else, they would serve to break the protective glass that surrounds the safely guarded topic of death.  There is, however, a significant difference between those stories and the one that we have today.  In each book, there is a person grappling with death through the observation of others who died.  Their therapy is derived from the last experiences of others.  It’s here that the Greeks remind us of the difference between self-help and discipleship.  Sir, we wish to see Jesus.  Jesus, being fully human and fully God demonstrates both qualities in John’s Gospel.  Jesus says, “And what should I say, ‘Father save me from this hour?’  No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.”  When someone in the professional world makes a comment like this, it means one thing.  I am usually very skeptical of anyone who says, “I was born to do this.”  But here, the fully human Jesus confesses that he is afraid, just like any of us would or will be.  His soul is troubled; yet, the fully divine Jesus knows that without such a death, God’s final covenant with God’s children will not be fulfilled.

This is the thing that we have to remember.  When thinking in exclusively human terms like the three authors mentioned earlier, we get caught up in a process of thought that either leads us to fear or takes us to a place where we outright deny and ignore the possibility of death.  Only in faith can we remember the point of it all.  The light of Easter will be upon us soon and when it is, we should celebrate life in shouts of alleluia.  But today, we are asked to remember the path that takes us there.  God is willing to give us everything at a cost that is completely one sided.  God purchases our freedom through the death of God’s only son.  This profound mystery of God’s economy is so far beyond our understanding that we sometimes forget the selfless act of love that takes place in and through the death of Jesus.

So what now?  We can choose to remain troubled in our own private wildernesses of Lent, or we can decide to become troubled with Jesus.  We can choose to love our life or we can decide to say together, “We would prefer to be with you now in your father’s kingdom, but until that happens, we have responsibilities here on earth.”  These responsibilities have to do with our expressions of faith.

In a faithful response to God’s love, we will love one another as Christ loves us.  We will serve breakfast every morning to those who seek it.  We will remember and support people like our missionaries, Frank and Nancy Dimmock and Dan and Elizabeth Turk who serve in ways in which we are unable.  We will read the entirety of the Gospel and struggle together in discerning its meaning.  The article in The Christian Century concludes saying, “Church needs to be a place where we are not only permitted but required to talk about death.”  I believe that this is true only if we remember the death that points to the freedom and hope that we have in God through Christ.  It seems that if we ignore the fullness of God’s gift, then we are denying the fullness of God’s promise.  Maybe if we open ourselves up to the complete story, then our souls will become a little less troubled, and more filled with things of hope, peace, and gladness.  Maybe we will discover that our troubles have already been taken care of.  More on that in the weeks to come.

¹Chicago Public Radio. #188 “Kid Logic.”  This American Life.  March 2, 2007. www.thisamericanlife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?sched=1173

² Calvin’s Institutes: 3.9.5

³ Copenhaver, Martin. “Lessons Before Dying.” The Christian Century. 7 April 2009: 32-36