Apostle to the Nameless

I've been meditating on this statement, "You never know when Death comes for you."  It is true that we don't know the time or place of our death. We only know that it is certain, for ""no one gets out of here alive" (Enoch excepting).  Since that is true, earth is a dangerous planet on which to live. But here we are—born into a drama not of our own doing. 

So I have been thinking about our "situation." The diagnosis of cancer is death's calling card. You never know when it will come. We are not prepared for it. We think we shall live to a "ripe old age" and lay down and peacefully die. At least that is what we envision. No one envisions a life full of plans and dreams being interrupted by his knock.  Especially Americans, who are particularly susceptible to the trauma of the death knell, since we are a people who live in the future. We plan for this, or for that. Our mantra is "Tomorrow we shall go to Rome...."  Going to Rome is part of the overall plan of success, of perfectionism, of the American dream.

If Death knocked on your door today, what plans would be interrupted? What loves would die, what loss would occur for you? 

Part of my sorrow this year has been for the death of a dream. The secret goals of my heart. They were my own version of my own story. This is what I wanted out of life. I wanted a sign outside of my office. The one thing I have been denied. My shingle. It's the dream of my flesh. The Jews demanded of Jesus a sign. Effectively saying, prove that you are somebody, that you are credible. The "Jews" also demand of me a sign. Where are your credentials? Who do you say you are???


They repeatedly asked this of Jesus. Should His disciples be tempted in any different way? I too wanted a sign on my door with my name and title telling ME that I am somebody. A sign validates me. I can point to the sign and say, "See...I am somebody." But Jesus said, "The only sign that you shall recieve is the sign of Jonah." You (Judy) will be buried in the belly of a whale for three days and there will you willI have no sign, no identity, no name. You will not be 'branded'. YOU will have no calling card, no signature piece, no way of being singled out. You will be just one of those mousy brown people that live underground and are part of the nameless crowd that carries out the Gospel."

Jesus says, "Are you offended by this?" Of course I am offended. No glory? No lights, no reputation? Are you kidding me? We are apostles to the nameless. See even here my scary flesh rises up and wants to carry on its work. Even 'no-name' is better than no name. But death has come. It has knocked on our door and the gig is up. I had so many plans, so many dreams....and the shock, the seismic waves of disappointment have not yet ceased. 

When you live your life for the Gospel however, it is not like that. Your dream answers the question, "Did I live well today?" "Did I honor my Lord in everything I said and did?" "Did I honor the aging and give them thanks?" "Did I obey God's inner lights and inspirations?" "Did I feed the poor?" Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord, my soul to keep. Every day should have its own closure, in case death comes in the night. 

Death, they teach us in pastoral training, is the daily background of human existence. Every fear we have is somehow related to this unwelcomed guest. We live in the valley of the shadow of death. We should live as wise stewards who might suddenly be called into account. 

The calling card of the poor in spirit is a broken and a contrite heart revealing the peaceable fruit of righteousness. The clay pottery of the flesh, having been broken,  just naturally flows rivers of living waters. Every day I die to my dreams, to the dreams of my kiosk, my idol, myself.  "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. Cancer interrupted my dreams, it's over. i have to pick up my toys and go home. I was just in my stride (maximum challenge over maximum skill) when my Father called us home from playing in the fields of the Lord. He might be taking my playmate home and then what? 

Jesus lived the kind of life that mattered. Every day he walked in freedom and in love, but every day he walked toward Jerusalem, toward His death. And it won Him him the not the crown of life, but the Crown of a King who shall be the Great Shepherd of His people forever. But what is that to God? To be a king over a rag tag group of people? Of dust and clay? He is the ultimate apostle to the nameless. He is the apostle to the poor in Spirit.  It is good enough for him because He is love. He still doesn't get anything from it. And when I am perfected in love then it shall be good enough for me—and then death will has nothing over love. 

My friend Charlie was diagnosed with cancer some years ago. He had a deep sense he was going to die. He was despondent and couldn't overcome it, so he finally came for grief counseling. I asked him why he was sad. He said, "Because, because, because, it's too late. I haven't done anything with my life." He was 67 years old. So I presented the thought to Jesus, I said, "Lord, Charlie believes it's too late for him. What do you think?" Jesus answered him saying, "How can it be too late, you are my son!" 

In that moment, Charlie switched tracks. The truth covered him like a refreshing waterfall, taking away guilt, self condemnation, bitterness and grief. He wallowed in his son-ship. It became enough for Charlie and a few days later he died. I miss Charlie so much. His old coat of many colors hangs in my closet still.. and everyday I remember that he did his work  for Jesus everyday and never even knew it. He thought he was a failure, only to discover that he was a son, and if you are a son, how can you be a failure? 

Hans and Charlie were good friends. They were cut from the same bolt of colored fabric and they brought joy to others by simply loving, teaching, and by pointing the way with their brown colorless lives. How were we to know that they wore magnificent coats underneath the flesh?

What dreams do I have now that if death comes will be interrupted?  I say to myself every morning, Keep it simple, stupid.