AFTER LIFE

The priest at St. Ambrose said it so plainly in his homily this morning:  "We live in a time when many teach that there is no afterlife."  I have no idea what he said after that, because in that moment the little word "afterlife" split in two -- "AFTER LIFE" -- and my thoughts raced all over the place.  I wouldn't be surprised if, in my preaching, listeners have this same experience of having their moments of ignoring my sermon to be the most effective in their life.  Perhaps, from here on in, I will view the inattention of sermon listeners in a much more positive light.  But that's a blog for a different day.  Today, back to the "AFTER LIFE."

AFTER LIFE.  You've heard the analogy of the plane passenger who was setting up the perfect environment in his seat, pillows, blankets, pictures of his loved ones, everything just so, and then was shocked and saddened and angry when the plane landed and he was told to give up his comfy place.  One day, for each of us, the plane of life lands, and we need to get off.  This life is the much briefer and smaller journey to the place that is really our home.  One day, when Jesus returns, our plane will land.

Two weeks ago was Corrie's funeral.  I am confident that today, she is enjoying this time, AFTER LIFE, with even more spunk, zeal, and joy than she demonstrated in her earthly life.  And that's saying a lot.  This past Thursday was my aunt's funeral.  She was just 60 years old.  The minister in Dunnville reminded everyone there that Geesje's earthly pains were done and that she was now at perfect peace.  Her AFTER LIFE was secure, as the minister's text reminded her, "You lead me with your counsel and afterward take me to glory."
The priest at St. Ambrose was right, we do live in a time when many teach that there is no afterlife.  I am glad that Geesje and Corry and many others know otherwise.

I had breakfast with a teen a few weeks back and told the teen that I had talked to a man in our church, Herb, about his being ready for death, which he very much is.  The teen replied, "that's kind of awkward."  I asked, "What?"  She said, "Talking about death."  And from there we had a mostly one-sided and at best slightly helpful conversation about the reality of death and 'AFTER LIFE.'  She knows there is an afterlife, but it is a 'back burner' issue, not one she is interested in exploring, right now.

I talked to a neighbor this week.  His mom is dying, and, in the midst of dealing with this news, his dog had to be put down.  Too much death.  And not enough peace, in the absence of clinging assuredly to the hope of the resurrection, (for his mom, I'd rather not get into the debate about dogs in heaven, I'll leave that to the people who make cartoons).

This past Friday night at Gerry Martiniuk's retirement party, Greg Desrochers closed off the evening by tributing Gerry with these words:  "May you enjoy much success, health, and happiness, what more could we ask for?"  While I am thankful for Gerry's selfless leadership for our region and also wish him well in his retirement, I could think of something more to ask for -- comfort in life and in death.  Because the next big gathering for most of us after our retirements, is our funeral, and unless we are ready for the AFTER LIFE, all of that is just a really bad ending to an otherwise happy life.

As I was writing this blog, I was interrupted by a phone call from Herb's daughter, Geri.  Herb has died.  His life is over.  I am glad for the certain knowledge and comfort he had and which he shared with me and with his family.  On this morning while Christians around the globe gather at churches to experience the presence of God and to hear his voice, my friend, Herb DeVos is in AFTER LIFE, experiencing the presence and hearing the voice, no longer dimly but face to face.

At Herb's funeral this week, it will be easy to give testimony to his certain hope.  The challenge, for all of us as we meet our neighbor's at the curb,have conversations with teens, and talk to non-Christians around town, whether at retirement dinners or funerals is this:  "How do we communicate the reality of AFTER LIFE in a culture which actively teaches otherwise?"

And, as I tuned back in to the priest at the end of his message this morning, he was asking the same question.