All Saint’s Day 2003
Psalm 116:15
Precious Is the Death of His Saints
10/02/03
If some of you are like me, you’ve been waiting with a bit of anticipation for the final segment of J.R.R. Tolkiens, The Lord of the Rings, to be released to movie theatres some time in the near future. If you’ve been following the story on the screen or reading it from the pages of a book, you’ve been introduced to a rather unique character by the name of Gollum, who once possessed a ring forged by the evil Sardon, and now in the possession of Frodo Baggins, who knows that it ultimately must be destroyed in order to spare the world untold evil and destruction. The trouble is the ring has a history of driving those who possess it raving mad, a truth beginning to show itself in Frodo, but clearly witnessed in Gollum who appears totally consumed with the ring, calling it, as others owners have, “His precious.”
It’s really quite despicable to see a creature so absolutely driven and obsessed with something so evil. Perhaps it’s even more troubling when we recognize that this is us, every time our sinful human nature brings us to speak with a sharp and bitter tongue or act out our hateful or lustful desires which we’ve concluded to be more “precious” than the will of our God.
But I want you to keep that image of total consumption, of whole-hearted attention, of obsession in mind. Keep it there because as much as humanity is caught-up in sin, as negatively consumed and driven as Gollum was towards that symbol of evil; our God is positively consumed with us. In God’s eyes our lives are to be treated with the utmost care, so that even our deaths are a precious thing. “Precious in your sight, O Lord, is the death of your saints.”
Our God is not consumed with personal gain, but with ours. He’s not consumed with His own well-being, but with ours. He’s totally wrapped up in the troubles that confront us, death being the culmination of them all. He’s completely devoted to pouring out its remedy. Our life and that which threatens to destroy it completely in hell has our Lord’s whole-hearted attention. It’s His precious.
It has been from the start. When sin and death first threatened God’s creation in the Garden of Eden, there was God with a remedy. He would send forth a seed from the woman who would crush Satan’s head, who would right the wrong perpetrated on His people, who would save and restore them to life. Our God was driven to action. He was possessed with care and concern for those He had made as experienced by the psalmist today, and even more by others in the person of Jesus Christ. Not only do we see God’s concern for the life of His people witnessed in His Son’s healings and the re-giving of life to those who were already slain. We see it most clearly as Jesus gave His all, even His own life, on the cross; that all might have hope. And that hope is not just for a few extra years of life in this imperfect world; but a life totally restored and lasting forever, a life that is yet to come though already assured in Jesus’ own resurrection from the dead.
And this tells us a lot. It doesn’t tell us everything. There’s still much about our lives that remains a mystery. Some events, like what happened to Aaron last weekend, come without explanation. They only leave us asking, “Why?” which is exactly what I figure happened with three of the Lord’s most faithful followers during the days of Daniel. You remember them as Shadrach, Meshach and Abedneggo; three fellows who were to be thrown into Nebuchadnezzar’s fiery furnace because they wouldn’t bow down and worship his god. To the faithful with them in the land of Babylon this must have come as a total shock. I just imagine what was said. “Sure, Nebuchadnezzar was a ruthless ruler. Sure, he had done some horribly brutal things before. But these are God’s servants. Why would God allow something so horrible, so cruel, so devastating to happen to these faithful men?” It’s not hard for us to imagine these three thinking this way themselves. Afterall, what do we do? Something bad happens and we sit around moping, groaning, complaining. But now listen to what they did say: "O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. 17 If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. 18 But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up" (Daniel 3:16-18). They knew something more. In fact, I can’t think of any other explanation. There was a lot they still didn’t know. They didn’t know exactly how this would turn out. They knew God could save them. They were confident that in the end He would save them. But they couldn’t be sure. Nonetheless they wouldn’t bow down. They wouldn’t bow down because they knew something more, not everything, but enough. Most would be consumed with themselves, with their circumstances, with trying to get out of their dilemma by their own designs; but they knew a God who had already consumed himself with their matters, who was totally driven and devoted to their life, a life that was planned to last far more than their lifetime on earth. They knew the Lord was completely wrapped up in their well-being and that of their soul so that they didn’t need to be. And in that they rested. They rested in this sure hope even as we do today.
It’s our comfort as we remember our loved one’s who have passed away. We know that their passing didn’t go unnoticed. It wasn’t entered into in a haphazard fashion. It was overseen by our loving God and Lord who is totally devoted to the matters of our life and death so as to enter into our life and death himself; all to make things ready for us in eternity. “1"Do not let your hearts be troubled,” He assured. “Trust in God[1] ; trust also in me. 2In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. 3And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am” (John 14:1-3). It’s a place where’s there’s no more suffering, no more sorrow, no more sickness; where death has been put away itself. And we rejoice in this, their victory, their new life; even as we rejoice in ours.
There’s an interesting aspect to heaven that John mentions at the very outset of his writing this chapter in Revelation today. Speaking of this new heaven and new earth he says: “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” – no sea, no vast expanse of water. That probably strikes us a bit odd. No sorrow, no suffering, so sickness – I think most of us would understand why heaven might exclude these; but what’s the deal with water? It’s a bit weird for us to think of a place without beach. This is one of those things about life on earth most people value. But from John’s point of view this was a powerful image of hope, for we must remember where John was. He was an exile on the penal colony island of Patmos, separated from his family; barred from seeing his loved ones. In many respects his life was over. He was dead, but not dead; which is probably a feeling we can all identify with from time to time. The troubles, the trials, the ordeals we must contend with from day to day leave us sometimes wishing we were dead; and maybe that’s appropriate given the fact that these griefs and setbacks are all part and parcel of our own story of death, reminders that death is not just something others endure. Death is always snapping at our heals too. But God doesn’t take that any more lightly. To his servant John he gives an image that couldn’t have been met with more excitement. In that image was the message that all that separated John from what he loved about life would be removed. All that stands in the way of our life and satisfaction today, all that has robbed us of the joy that God intended for us to have, will be torn down. Everything that frustrates us in this world will only be temporary.
I believe that Paul had a similar thought in his 2nd letter to the Corinthians church when he wrote acknowledging “…our light and momentary troubles”, but then went on to affirm that there was “an eternal glory that far outweighs them all’ (2 Corinthians 4:17). Light and momentary are our troubles from God’s perspective of might; but He doesn’t treat them that way. He applies His whole power and attention to resolving them, to making them whole and new again in His own time, in His own way. And that makes all the difference.
In one of his books, A.M. Hunter, the New Testament scholar, relates the story of a dying man who asked his Christian doctor to tell him something about the place to which he was going. As the doctor fumbled for a reply, he heard a scratching at the door, and he had his answer. "Do you hear that?" he asked his patient. "It’s my dog. I left him downstairs, but he has grown impatient, and has come up and hears my voice. He has no notion what is inside this door, but he knows that I am here. Now then, isn’t it the same with you? You don’t know what lies beyond the Door, from day to day you it’s hard to imagine or guess what might come next, but you know that it’s your Master who is there, the one who considers the life and death of His saints as a “precious” matter in His sight. And isn’t that enough? It’s all we need to know, to be assured that it’ll be alright. Amen!
