Posts tagged ‘Theology’
The Big Picture
I have often made the point, when teaching various Bible classes, that, in Christianity, theology and anthropology are inextricably intertwined. You can’t really understand anthropology if you don’t understand theology and you can’t really understand theology if you don’t understand anthropology.
Here’s why. Theology without anthropology undermines the gospel. After all, the heart of the gospel is what God has done for us! He sent Jesus to die and rise for us! Without understanding the anthropological “for us” of the gospel, we are left with a system of theology that is more akin to Deism than it is to Christianity. For without the gospel’s anthropological association, God is left distant and detached from the creation He formed. Conversely, anthropology without theology also undermines the gospel. It is theology, after all, that tells us who we are anthropologically and why we need Jesus. And the verdict on who we are anthropologically is not good:
“There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands, no one who seeks God. All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one.” (Romans 3:10-12)
Apart from an understanding of God’s verdict on us as sinners, we are all too readily tempted to think of ourselves as better, nobler, and loftier than we really are. Thus, in order to truly understand the peril of our sinful state, we must understand what the Bible says theologically about our brokenness anthropologically.
I bring all of this up because I have been doing some thinking lately about the anthropological side of Christianity. And what I have come to realize is that while Christian authors, pastors, and leaders will spend a lot of time addressing the anthropological side of Christianity on a micro scale, sometimes, macro anthropological concerns can get marginalized.
Here’s what I mean. The Christian arena is replete with resources on marriage, addiction, finances, relationships and other personal, or micro, concerns. And these resources are needed and, I would add, popular! What is less popular in our day, however, are resources that address macro anthropological issues of cultural trends, power structures, injustice, and societally systemic sins as well as their broad historical and philosophic foundations. Part of the reason I would guess these resources are less popular is because addressing macro anthropological issues is an inevitably more complex, convoluted, and academic exercise than addressing micro anthropological issues due to the sheer size and the extended historical timelines of these macro anthropological issues. Furthermore, because it is the micro anthropological concerns that most directly and immediately affect us, it is easy to look at what only directly affects us right now than consider the broader concerns of our world over time.
But Christianity calls us to consider both ourselves and our world. For Christianity, among other things, is a worldview. And without understanding Christianity’s anthropological entailments on a macro scale and their insights into how we, knowingly or unknowingly, are shaped by the history, philosophy, and culture to which we are heirs and of which we are a part, we will inevitably have trouble, and ultimately be unsuccessful, in addressing and resolving our own micro concerns. This is why so much of the language of the Bible is cosmic. For God’s final promise is not only that He will only fix our personal problems, but that He will redeem our world. In the words of the apostle John:
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” (Revelation 21:1-5)
Make no mistake about it: God cares about the micro. He cares about your tears and your pain and your worries and your regrets. But He will fix your micro concerns in His macro way: He will make everything new. So perhaps we should spend a little more time thinking about “everything” that God will make new and a little less time thinking only about our micro concerns.
The Questions God Won’t Answer
It had to be a frustrating experience for the disciples. They wanted Jesus to answer what they thought was a perfectly appropriate and critically important question: “Lord, are You at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel” (Acts 1:6)? This question seemed fair enough. After all, when the disciples pose this query, Jesus has already risen from the dead and has been periodically appearing to His in a dazzling demonstration of His dominion over death. And now that Jesus has conquered death, the only thing left for Him to do is to usher in the utopia of God’s kingdom. But Jesus gives His disciples a less than satisfactory answer to their question about God’s kingdom: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by His own authority” (Acts 1:7). Jesus says to His disciples, “God’s kingdom is coming, and My Father knows when it’s coming. But He’s not going to tell you. It’s not for you to know.”
The refusal of God to provide satisfactory answers to all the questions Christians ask has been a conundrum that has frustrated the faithful for millennia. Questions that range from the mildly curious – “When did the dinosaurs go extinct according to the Bible?” – to the direly critical – “Why does God allow evil to continue to rage in world?” – are left unanswered, at least in toto – by what God reveals in holy Writ. Yes, there are partial answers these questions and to others like them, but there are not complete answers. And this leaves many discouraged and despondent.
Like many other countless Christians throughout the ages, Martin Luther too struggled with why God did not answer everything everyone might want to know. After much reflection, Luther came to this conclusion: “Whatever God does not tell you, or does not want to tell you, you should not desire to know. And you should honor Him enough to believe that He sees that it is not necessary, useful, or good for you to know.”[1] Luther was willing to trust that God knew – and knew how to manage – what Luther himself did not.
Perhaps the reason God does not tell us everything we might like to know is this: a lack of knowledge compels trust. In other words, when we do not know something that God knows, we are compelled to trust that God knows what He’s doing even if we happen to be left in the dark. Our lack of a comprehensive answer to every question we might have can actually be used by God to increase our faith! And growing in faith is far more important than growing in mere knowledge.
And so, what would you like to know about God? God may not give you every answer to every question, but you already have His answers to the questions that matter most. Does God love you? Yes! Can you be redeemed by the blood of Christ? Yes. Can you trust that God knows what He’s doing and has your best interest at heart? Yes.
How much more do you really need to know?
[1] Martin Luther, What Luther Says, Ewald M. Plass, comp. (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1959), §209.
When A Little Is A Lot
It has long struck me how God can do so much with so little. A little bit of water and the name of God spoken over us in baptism – and we are brought into the family of Christ. A little bit of bread and a little bit of wine – and we receive Christ’s body and blood for the forgiveness of our sins. It doesn’t take much for God to do great things!
I was reminded of this point once again as I was teaching Daniel 10. In this curious chapter, Daniel receives a vision of “a man dressed in linen, with a belt of the finest gold around His waist. His body was like chrysolite, His face like lightning, His eyes like flaming torches, His arms and legs like the gleam of burnished bronze, and His voice like the sound of a multitude” (Daniel 10:5-6). The characteristics of this man are strikingly similar to those used to describe Jesus in Revelation:
I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and among the lampstands was someone “like a son of man,” dressed in a robe reaching down to His feet and with a golden sash around His chest. His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow, and His eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and His voice was like the sound of rushing waters. (Revelation 1:12-15)
Daniel, it seems, is having an encounter with the pre-incarnate Christ.
What is Christ doing before His incarnation? What He does after His incarnation: fighting the forces of evil. He says, “I will return to fight against the prince of Persia” (Daniel 10:20). Many scholars take this reference to “the prince of Persia” as a reference to a fallen angel and not to the human leader of Persia at this time, Cyrus. After this prince of Persia, Jesus says, will come the king of Greece. And then, Jesus ends the chapter by saying, “No one supports me against them except Michael, your prince” (Daniel 10:21).
It is verse 21 that especially struck me. It is just the Son of God and His archangel Michael against the many and varied forces of darkness and evil. Daniel 11 goes into detail concerning those many and varied dark forces. It’s two forces for good marshaled against a countless number of forces for evil. It’s a little against a lot. And yet, good carries the day:
At that time your people – everyone whose name is found written in the book – will be delivered. Multitudes who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake: some to everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt. (Daniel 12:1-2)
Evil is consigned to everlasting contempt. The redeemed of the Lord enjoy everlasting life. The seemingly little forces for good defeat the massive forces of evil.
Throughout the Bible, evil constantly seeks to gain power using sheer numbers. The Psalmist writes about how “the kings of the earth take their stand and the rulers gather together against the LORD and against his Anointed One” (Psalm 2:2). But no matter how many forces evil may be able to marshal, evil is no match for the goodness of God. The quantity of evil foes is no match for the perfect quality of God’s goodness. As Luther writes in “A Mighty Fortress” of God’s power against the devil and minions: “One little word can fell him.” One little word of God can destroy vast army of evil. And that little word has already by spoken from the cross: “It is finished” (John 19:30). From the cross, Jesus sealed Satan’s fate with just a little word. For “It is finished” means “Satan is finished.” This little word defeated great evil and saved us.
So never overlook the little things of God. A little can do a lot. After all, what the world thought was nothing more than an insignificant execution on a cross wound up offering salvation to all humanity. From a little cross flows big hope.
Sacrificing the Wrong Lives
It was an article that took my breath away. Yes, I’ve read many an article arguing for “a woman’s right to choose.” Yes, I’ve heard the cries from Planned Parenthood, insisting that a woman’s “reproductive rights” be maintained. But this article did not invoke any of the more traditional language wielded by abortion proponents, except to criticize it. Writing for Slate Magazine, Mary Elizabeth Williams opens her article analyzing the state of the abortion debate thusly:
While opponents of abortion eagerly describe themselves as “pro-life,” the rest of us have had to scramble around with not nearly as big-ticket words like “choice” and “reproductive freedom.” The “life” conversation is often too thorny to even broach. Yet I know that throughout my own pregnancies, I never wavered for a moment in the belief that I was carrying a human life inside of me. I believe that’s what a fetus is: a human life. And that doesn’t make me one iota less solidly pro-choice.[1]
Mary Elizabeth Williams is bold enough to write what so many people have suspected for so long: there is no way around the fact that a fetus is a life. Abortion, then, by logical default, ends a life. Williams, in contradistinction to many other abortion advocates, is willing to admit this. But this does not temper her view on whether or not abortion should be legal and widely available:
Here’s the complicated reality in which we live: All life is not equal. That’s a difficult thing for liberals like me to talk about, lest we wind up looking like death-panel-loving, kill-your-grandma-and-your-precious-baby storm troopers. Yet a fetus can be a human life without having the same rights as the woman in whose body it resides. She’s the boss. Her life and what is right for her circumstances and her health should automatically trump the rights of the non-autonomous entity inside of her. Always.
Williams is willing to cede the argument on whether or not a fetus is a life. She admits it is. But that does not matter. It may be a life, but it is a life that can be extinguished at the will and whim of the woman who carries the fetus.
Such a crassly genocidal view of abortion is new, even for its advocates. Margaret Sanger, the very founder of Planned Parenthood, would have winced at this kind of notion:
We explained what contraception was; that abortion was the wrong way no matter how early it was performed it was taking life; that contraception was the better way, the safer way – it took a little time, a little trouble, but was well worth while in the long run, because life had not yet begun.[2]
Margaret Sanger, though she certainly paved the way for abortion’s modern-day legality, availability, and promotion, promoted contraception over abortion, at least publicly, because abortion ended life. Until now, pro-choice advocates have been largely unwilling to engage the question “Is the fetus a life or not?” and instead focus on a woman’s “right to choose” because many abortion advocates would be loath to talk about ending a life. No longer. Williams is perfectly willing to speak of a fetus as a life. And she’s perfectly willing to talk about ending it. As she concludes in her article, “I would put the life of a mother over the life of a fetus every single time – even if I still need to acknowledge my conviction that the fetus is indeed a life. A life worth sacrificing.”
In the face of words like Williams’, words from the prophet Jeremiah come to mind:
This is what the LORD says: “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are no more.” (Jeremiah 31:35)
May we weep with Rachel at the children who are no more. They were not lives worth sacrificing. The life worth sacrificing has already been sacrificed.
[1] Mary Elizabeth Williams, “So What if Abortion Ends a Life?” Slate Magazine (1.23.13). NB: The link posted in the title Williams’ article takes you to Google’s cached version. The most inflammatory of Williams’ statements have since been removed. The current version of the article can be found here.
[2] Margaret Sanger, Margaret Sanger, An Autobiography (New York: W. W. Norton, 1938), 217.
Worst Funeral Ever
It started with MTV’s “The Real World.” And ever since, television has never been the same. So-called “reality TV” has become a staple of both cable and network prime time lineups. It used to be “Big Brother,” “Survivor,” “The Bachelor,” and “Fear Factor.” Then came reality talent competitions like “American Idol” and “Dancing with the Stars.” These days, shows like “The Biggest Loser” and “The Voice” top the ratings. And now, new to the reality TV field is the surprise hit … “Best Funeral Ever”?
I wish I was making this up, but I’m not. TLC’s newest reality show features over-the-top funerals directed by the over-the-top Golden Gate funeral home in Dallas. The funeral home’s motto describes its philosophy: “You may be in a casket, but it can still be fantastic.” So far, the show has featured a Christmas-themed funeral complete with a mourner dressed as a snowman as well as a funeral for the singer of the Chili’s Baby Back Ribs jingle, Willie McCoy, which boasted a barbeque sauce fountain, ribs for the guests, live pigs, and a coffin shaped like a smoker.
The garishness of these funerals may provide a ratings boost for “Best Funeral Ever,” but its irreverence also invokes deep discomfort. Clinton Yates of the Washington Post lamented, “TLC’s exploitation of how families mourn their dead is shameful in an era in which we can barely focus on keeping each other alive.”[1] Turning mourning into a spectacle just doesn’t seem right.
Of course, there is a reason turning mourning into a spectacle doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t seem right because it isn’t right. Death and the mourning that it brings is an indicator of something gone terribly wrong and tragically awry. This is why death is referred to in the Bible as an “enemy to be destroyed” (1 Corinthians 15:26). Death is no joking matter.
The ancients were well aware of the gravity of death. After all, it was all around them. In first century Rome, the average life expectancy was a mere twenty years. And the Romans hated this. This is why when a person died, he was taken outside the city to be buried. This is why a Roman law mandated, “No body be buried or cremated inside the city.” People did not want to be near death. They did not want to confront the mortality that surrounded them.
But then, something changed. Rather than burying the dead far away from the living, cemeteries began to become a part of the local landscape. As Christians began to build houses of worship, many cemeteries were plotted directly on church grounds. To worship the living God, you would have to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. In our day, we might find this unsettling. But for many early Christians, such a move was intentional. For these Christians believed that death was not only an enemy to be destroyed, but an enemy that would be destroyed. These Christians believed the somber scene of the cemetery was only temporary. Indeed, even the word “cemetery” is from the Greek word for “dormitory” – a place where one dwells only for a time. These cemeteries, then, were not tragically permanent dwellings, but only provisional dormitories. One day, the people buried in them would move out and move on to be with the Lord at the resurrection of the dead. There was no need to be scared of them.[2]
The tragedy of a show like “Best Funeral Ever” is that it replaces resurrection anticipation with TV tawdriness. Snowmen, barbeque fountains, live pigs, and smoker shaped caskets offer little in the way of true and lasting hope.
As Christians, we know that what a funeral needs is not cheap antics, but an empty tomb. It is there that we find cause for real celebration, for it is there that we find God’s promise of life.
[1] Clinton Yates, “‘Best Funeral Ever’: Most frightening reality TV show to date?” Washington Post (1.7.2013).
[2] For a good discussion of how the Christian hope of the resurrection changed ancient views on death, see John Ortberg, Who Is This Man? The Unpredictable Impact of the Inescapable Jesus (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012), 191.
Moving In Together…Or Whatever You Call It
“Now that we’ve come to some consensus on same-sex marriage, let’s move on to the next puzzle: what to call two people who act as if they are married but are not.” So begins Elizabeth Weil in her New York Times article, “Unmarried Spouses Have a Way With Words.”[1] Though I suppose I could quibble with whether or not judicial fiat or the vote of some states to legalize same-sex marriage really constitutes a “consensus” on this issue, that is beyond the aim of my thoughts here. No, the aim of my thoughts here is to address Weil’s call for a new vocabulary to address the ever-increasing number of cohabitating couples. Weil explains:
The faux spouse is a pretty ho-hum cultural specimen for such a gaping verbal lacuna. But none of the word choices are good. Everyone agrees that partner sounds awful – too anodyne, empty, cold. Lover may be worse – too sexualized, graphic, one-dimensional. Boyfriend sounds too young. Significant other sounds too ’80s. Special friend or just friend (both favored by the 65-and-over crowd) are just too ridiculous.
When it comes to people who are living together and are playing the roles of husband and wife, albeit without all the cumbrous pledges, but who are not legally or ecclesiologically husband and wife, there is a yawning verbal vacuum. Just what do you call these people?
The twentieth century French philosopher Jacques Derrida famously claimed, “There is nothing outside the text.”[2] Though this famous phrase has been unfairly disparaged and mischaracterized as a wild assertion that nothing exists outside of words in and of themselves, the context of this quote reveals Derrida’s claim to be far more modest. Derrida is countering a Rousseauian view of reality which see words as cracked and foggy lenses that inhibit and blur the experience of reality as it truly is. This is why Rousseau, in his writings, yearns to return to a time before language, for he believes that only in a proto-linguistic and, I might add, ruggedly individualistic society can people experience the fullness of reality.[3]
In contradistinction to Rousseau, Derrida takes a much more positive view of language. In his thinking, there is no such thing as an experience of reality which is somehow free from a person individual’s interpretation of it. Language, Derrida continues, provides the framework for this interpretation and can even provide a good framework to do good interpretations of the human experience. Words, therefore, have incredible formative power over our worldviews because words mediate and amalgamate our encounters and experiences with everything around us.
This leads us back to the vocabulary void that Elizabeth Weil decries. From the perspective of a Christian worldview, the dearth of terms for Weil’s mate that can make Weil feel good about her status and her relationship may perhaps reveal that, when it comes to cohabitation, there is not much to feel good about! For the vocabulary of marriage – terms like “husband,” “wife,” and “spouse” – grew up around marriage precisely because marriage between one man and one woman is a good and God-ordained institution that needed a full, rich, and positive cache of terms to describe it. Cohabitation can make no such claim. Thus, perhaps it is good for us to follow Derrida’s lead and let the vocabulary of one of society’s fundamental institutions inform the reality of our relationships. Perhaps we would do well to leave behind the verbal vacuum of cohabitation behind for the rich vocabulary of marriage. After all, words do matter. And words do shape worldviews. Why do you think Jesus came as the Word?
[1] Elizabeth Weil, “Unmarried Spouses Have a Way With Words,” New York Times (1.4.2013)
[2] Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology (Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press, 1997), 158.
[3] See Jean-Jacques Rousseau, “Essay on the Origin of Languages” (1781).
Why It’s Good To Be A Weak Leader
The other day, I was reflecting on how some of my most memorable moments of ministry seem to come when I am not doing the things I normally do. I spearhead the adulteducation program at Concordia, but I sincerely love getting goofy for the sake of the Gospel with the kids who attend our annual Vacation Bible School. I spend a good portion of my day in the office taking care of business on my MacBook, but I am delighted when I go on a mission trip and swing a hammer to help an underprivileged community. Just last week on Christmas Eve, though I am normally a teacher, I was honored to work with an incredibly talented group of actors, musicians, and tech folks as a director in our Christmas pageant. Stepping out of my normal role and into something different has a unique way of stretching, growing, and inspiring me.
Leadership gurus traditionally teach that a person ought to lead from his strengths while managing his weaknesses. But as I’ve been reflecting on the times where I have been privileged to lead in areas where I am not apparently talented or naturally strong, I am beginning to question this tenant of leadership orthodoxy – at least in part. For when a person is called to lead in an area where he may be weaker, it not only helps him grow in a different and new mode of leadership, it helps him grow in his preferred mode of leadership as well.
Here’s what I mean. Every leadership strength comes with a built-in deficiency. For instance, if a leader is naturally a type-A in-charge go-getter, he may also come across as insensitive or uncaring, more concerned with finishing a job by a deadline than demonstrating compassion on a person. But if this leader periodically puts himself in positions where his primary calling is to care for others, this can help him balance his type-A in-charge go-getter proclivity with intentional empathy and deep sensitivity. If another leader is naturally more of a perceptive, conciliatory, people-person, he may also come across as weak or pandering, more concerned with keeping everyone happy than getting something done right. But if this leader periodically spearheads projects that involve making tough decisions that will inevitably ruffle others, this can help him balance his perceptive, conciliatory personality with a tough-as-nails determination. Leading from a place of weakness encourages a person to be cognizant of and work on those deficiencies that are inherent in his strengths.
Leading from a place of weakness, of course, is nothing new. The apostle Paul writes of his leadership in ministry, “For Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10). Leading from and in weakness is what honed and helped Paul’s strength, for when Paul led from weakness, he had only Christ’s strength on which to rely. And Christ’s strength, not human fortitude, is what every leader needs. As Paul writes in the verse prior, “[Christ’s] power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).
Don’t be afraid, then, to lead in an area where you are weak. After all, even if you’re weak, Jesus is not. And He can use your weaknesses to show His strength and to bless your leadership.
The Problem with Poverty
“The poor you will always have with you,” Jesus said (Matthew 26:11). This is most certainly true. Our best-laid plans to abolish poverty have fallen woefully short. New York Times journalist Nicholas D. Kristof shines a spotlight on just how short our plans have fallen in his recent column titled, “Profiting From a Child’s Illiteracy.”[1] His opening paragraphs are bone chilling:
This is what poverty sometimes looks like in America: parents here in Appalachian hill country pulling their children out of literacy classes. Moms and dads fear that if kids learn to read, they are less likely to qualify for a monthly check for having an intellectual disability.
Many people in hillside mobile homes here are poor and desperate, and a $698 monthly check per child from the Supplemental Security Income program goes a long way – and those checks continue until the child turns 18.
A plan that seeks to alleviate poverty in the form of Supplemental Security Income in some instances actually perpetuates it. After all, there is no immediate economic payoff for having a son or daughter learn how to read, only a potential loss. And though a myriad of statistics could be marshaled concerning how, over the long haul, children who enjoy solid educations early in life enjoy economic and social stability later in life, these parents can’t afford to concern themselves with “the long haul.” They’re just concerned about their next meal. And so these parents are pressed into a self-perpetuating poverty.
“The poor you will always have with you,” Jesus said. This means two things. First, it means that the sinfulness that leads to poverty will always be with us and in us, at least on this side of the Eschaton. There will always be some people who are lazy and refuse to work, placing themselves in poverty’s grip and on the government’s dole. There will always be some people who are victims of economic injustice – just ask those who were bamboozled by Bernie Madoff. There will always be some people who, because of some fortuitous tragic circumstance – a devastating illness, a lost job, a natural disaster – find themselves with bills they can’t pay and a family they can’t support. Satan will continue to find delight in impoverishing people.
And yet, Jesus’ words are not only a commentary on human sinfulness, they are also a call to Christian action. For with His words, Jesus opens for us plenty of opportunities to show mercy. After all, there are hungry people for us to feed. There are naked people for us to clothe. There are hopeless people for us to encourage. There are plenty of people to which we can offer a cup of water in Jesus’ name (cf. Mark 9:41). In fact, I love how Mark records Jesus’ statement: “The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want” (Mark 14:27).
Jesus says, “You can help.” So let’s get to it! How and who can you help this holiday season? Maybe you can serve at a soup kitchen. Maybe you can visit someone who is lonely. That’s your mission. That’s your calling. And, as Jesus says, you can carry out that mission “any time you want” – even beyond the holidays.
I hope you will.
[1] Nicholas D. Kristof, “Profiting From a Child’s Illiteracy,” New York Times (12.7.12).
When Darkness Closes In: Processing a Tragedy
Please take a moment and read this brief important note from Pastor Bill Tucker and then make plans to join us for worship tomorrow at Concordia at 8, 9:30, or 11 am.
Beloved Concordia Family,
The events of Friday in Connecticut have shocked and appalled all of us. Our hearts are broken for the children and families lost…and for those whose lives will never be the same. I cannot imagine a person anywhere in the world who hears of this terrible tragedy that does not feel grief over what has happened.
In the wake of these events and the terrible grief we are all feeling, Pastor Zach and I have decided to divert from the planned messages for ABC and Worship tomorrow. Instead, we will talk about what has happened and address three questions:
1. Why?
2. What about the precious children who lost their lives?
3. What can we do now?
Please plan to join us. In these times of deep darkness, we must cling to our faith and turn to our God. Please invite your loved ones and friends to join us, as well.
You are loved!
Pastor Bill
A Life That Ended Too Soon…At 116 Years
Besse Cooper (Photo: David Goldman, AP)
Last Tuesday afternoon, Besse Cooper of Monroe, Georgia passed away peacefully. She was 116 years of age. She was also the world’s oldest woman.[1]
I was doing the math in my head. And though I don’t know her birthday so my I may be a year off on some of my calculations, I’m still pretty close. Besse Cooper was born in 1896. This means when the Titanic sank, she was sixteen. When the United States entered World War I, she was twenty-one. When the stock market crashed the Great Depression hit, she was thirty-three. When Pearl Harbor was bombed, she was forty-five. When John F. Kennedy was assassinated, she was comfortably settled into retirement at sixty-seven. When Apollo 11 landed, she was seventy-three. And when 9/11 rocked our nation, she had passed the century mark at one hundred and five.
As I thought back over all the events to which this woman had been witness, even if only from afar, I stood in awe. A lot of history happens in 116 years! And yet, even a life as long and robust and Mrs. Cooper’s is hardly a hairbreadth long in the eyes of the God who gives it. The Psalmist puts it bluntly: “Man is like a breath; his days are like a fleeting shadow” (Psalm 144:4). On the stage of history as a whole, 116 years occupies nary a dark corner.
Though the biblical writers may look at life as fleeting, they nevertheless do not resign themselves fatalistically to its end. Instead, they kick mightily against the truncated span of life. The prophet Isaiah notes that a life that lasts a mere century – or perhaps a little more – has not lasted nearly long enough! He yearns for a world where “he who dies at a hundred will be thought a mere youth” (Isaiah 65:20). Even one hundred years is not enough for Isaiah. He wants more.
Finally, the problem the biblical writers have has nothing to do with when life comes to end, but with that life comes to end. A life that ends – be that at ten days, ten months, ten years, or ten years times ten years – is a life that ends too soon. And indeed, this is true. For God, when He gave us life, intended life to be a gift we keep. He intended life to be a gift that lasts.
Sin, of course, had other plans. But this is why Christ came on a mission – to recapture and raise, by His resurrection, people who die way too soon. To recapture and raise, by His resurrection, people who die at all. Like Besse Cooper. May she rest in peace. But better yet, may she wake at the telos’s trumpet.
[1] Associated Press, “Woman, 116, listed as ‘world’s oldest’ dies in Ga.,” USA Today (12.5.2012).
Pastor Zach's Blog 