[dismiss kids] // [record message]! She taught my family to love God, and to love others. She succeeded in making disciples. She left a legacy that more than carries on in memory, but carries on through the lives of those she touched.! This is my mother. Peggy Lee Hebert. This is what I said of her last year, on Motherʼs Day, I shared the story of the last few days of her life. If you werenʼt here you can listen to the podcast online. If you were here, youʼll remember that I stepped out of the story occasionally to share memories from my life before her death, memories from before her death that have shaped who Iʼve become since her death. Memories that shaped what I retained from my last moments with her, memories that determined memories. There arenʼt many things I remember from my childhood that donʼt stem from the fondness I have for my mother now and the impact she had on my life then, and this affection was at its maximum in the days surrounding the end of her life, here on earth. Itʼs funny how that works; the memories from before my motherʼs death determine the memories that stay with me from around her death. And in continuum, the memories that Iʼve developed since her death have that same quality; what has remained is directly related to an emotion, a revelation, something important. Memories from my own life, in the 1
past nine years, even as recently as a few years, have a quality about them, a hint of something; or maybe more accurately, a lack of something. A lack of someone.! A lack... this reminds me of a book I read recently. Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom. In the book, Morrie, a 78 year old sociology professor dying of ALS meets with a former student to talk about life and death, this happens on Tuesdays. We learn along the way that Morrie lost his mother when he was a young boy. And on one night in particular, while Morrie is replying to a letter from someone else who had lost a mother, he gets very emotional. He remembers being young, and wishing he had someone to talk about it with. After finishing the letter he is asked, it was seventy years ago your mother died. The pain still goes on? and Morrie replies with a tight throat and a thick cracked voice, You bet.! I learned from reading that, that what Iʼve been expecting these past 9 years since my mothers death is that I will slowly fill the hole, and cover the void, pack it full of Jesus, and love, and life, and other nice things, until thereʼs no more emptiness. But Iʼm not sure thatʼs how it works. I think a mom has a specific, special place in the heart of every person. In 50 years when someone asks me if I remember my mother, if I still think about her, if I still miss her... Iʼll expect to reply through a tight throat and a thick cracked voice, You bet. 2
! Now Iʼm not the only one to lose a loved one here today. Weʼve all experienced this to some extent. However, Iʼm in a unique position to share with all of you at once, a part of myself, part of who I am and how I came to be this way. I believe a lot of you can understand, I believe a lot of you can learn youʼre not alone. And even more strongly I believe that church is a place to share with each other. I believe that faking it at church is a disgrace, while being real with each other is grace. I believe that gathering like this is how we can heal.! And so we leave the hospital that night, the 5 of us, in constant prayer and care for what God has for the future of our family. We leave my mother behind, her body anyway, the shell she lived in, the physical part of her we knew and loved for so many years, the vessel of her soul. Itʼs emotional because it feels like sheʼs still in there, because itʼs always been that way. But we know, now more than ever, that we come in two parts, we all come in two parts. One part goes on, while one part remains, and is buied in the ground, and its resting place marked with a stone.! As I was writing this part on Monday a song by a band called mewithoutyou came on, and the lyrics were sung, the cure for pain is in the pain, so there youʼll find me. And this is where we find Christ, if we let him in, if we can share our hurt. 3
! From the hospital we head back to the same place we stayed the night before, with the friendly couple who offered their basement suite for us to stay. And Iʼm not sure how it happens, but our family, being musical, we begin to play. A few chords and melodies and lyrics start to take form, and a short time after coming together we have a song, a tribute, something for my mother, something that says more than we can on our own.! For the children and the downcast, for the older ones she brought light.! For the youthful and the lonely, she bore her soul to lead the way.! Your pain has past, this is your victory.! Weʼll hold you in our hearts, Heʼll hold you in His arms.! Your wish to see Him, His will to see you became as one today.! Thank you mom for all you taught us, love you brought us, and times we shared.! Your pain has past, this is your victory.! This is the miracle that we prayed for.! The next week we plan the funeral. 700 people come. Even those who come because they know me and want to support me are only there because they are curious about the parent behind the shy, quiet, weird kid from chemistry. My brothers and I play the song we wrote. Itʼs pretty intense, Iʼm surprised weʼre able to pull it off without breaking down. Everyone loves it. Although... 4
I can feel the memories slipping away even before they have a chance to store themselves in my brain. This isnʼt what Iʼm going to retain of my momʼs life, funerals are great, but not if youʼre dead.! 700 people wonʼt come to my funeral if I die tomorrow. Iʼve only been nice to a few ppl my whole life, I used to think it didnʼt matter. Why be nice to people if you donʼt care about them? Right? This is when I learn that thatʼs not the right question to be asking. At my own motherʼs funeral, the Holy Spirit speaks truth to my mind. This isnʼt the right question; the right question is, Why donʼt I care about them? From my mother I saw love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control... and I guess I never knew why before.! My brother Curtis got a tattoo, it says Love Like Mom in big bold letters on his forearm. Thereʼs room in your heart to care about people. Thereʼs room in your heart to love people. Iʼve seen it, my mother showed me itʼs possible. Thereʼs room in your heart to love people. And if you disagree... get a new heart. And if you need help with that, try this prayer, written by E. B. Pusey, an Oxford theologian from the 19th century:! O God, fountain of love, pour thy love into our souls, that we may love those whom thou lovest with the love thou givest us, and think and speak of them tenderly, meekly, lovingly; and so loving our brothers and sisters for thy sake, may grow in thy love, and dwelling in thy love may dwell in thee; for Jesus Christʼs sake. Amen.! This prayer reminds me of my mom. 5
! Later, after the funeral, months later. Iʼm at church, the church I grew up in. The youth pastor is speaking this particular Sunday, so I know heʼs gonna make me laugh. I always expect this, but it doesnʼt happen this time. God is doing something else, possibly something more important. My youth pastor at the time begins his message talking about bows, and talking about arrows. He talks about weapons, and he talks about warfare. He talks about parents, and he talks about children.! He says, The bow is the parent. The bow is the father, the bow is the mother. The bow is the mechanism by which the arrow is shot. The arrow is the child, not all of us are parents, but all of us are children, all of us are arrows, or at least, we all have been arrows at some point. Both are essential, but both are very different.! As Iʼm hearing this metaphor unfold Iʼm getting emotional. The Holy Spirit is once again speaking to me. Iʼm soaking up everything thatʼs being said, and itʼs connecting with me at my core. Thatʼs me, Iʼm thinking. Iʼm an arrow. And Iʼve been shot! Iʼm an arrow, and Iʼve been shot from the bow, my mother. She has essentially done her job. This all makes sense. Iʼm looking at my life in the context of the past few years and I can see it so clearly. She taught us to love God, and to love others, she made disciples, her legacy carries on through us, through me. 6
! If youʼd like to know me, this is my story, this is where I came from. Iʼm now on a path set by the aim, Iʼm unsure where Iʼm headed, only God knows. This story is the beginning. I remember this story because of my mother. On this particular Sunday nine years ago, I feel the memories solidifying themselves in my brain, this will not be slipping away. After the sermon is over I cry at the front for a while, I guess I know why, but Iʼm unsure why this whole thing has to include tears. Iʼm completely helpless and not at all in control, embarrassed because Iʼm a teen, but Iʼm aware that the moment leaves a mark; an emotion, revelation, something important.! I wish I could talk with my mom about it. Sheʼd be really proud of me. And not only would she be proud, but she would tell me, she would say it. She would look me in the eyes while I try to avoid the penetrating stare, she would square my shoulders to her while I squirm away from the breach of my personal space, she would tell me in all seriousness that sheʼs proud of me while I try to brush it off and make light of the whole situation. I would skip away but not before she hugs me. I know this because it happened a million times growing up. She doesnʼt even need to be here for it anymore. But... itʼd be nice.! In the following 5 years I think about this time and time again. I take the opportunities that come up to share my story and heal a little more each time. (Like what Iʼm doing here and now with you). I graduate from high school. I go to 7
Bible College. I graduate from there. I get engaged. I get married... Throughout all this I have one image that stays, sharper than any other ones. And itʼs an old one.! Peggy Lee, in the morning, with a cup of coffee and her well worn Bible, at the dining room table. Hangin w/ Christ. This specifically, I remember so strongly. This is who she is. I donʼt suspect she had any idea at the time, that the first thing I see every morning is her reading the Bible, and that I would remember it. I donʼt think I even remembered it at the time. It went straight back to the back of my mind for another time.! Emotion? No. Revelation? Not at the time. Somthing important? YES. Parents, mothers, you will pass something on to your children whether you like it or not. Something from your life will stick, and you might not be able to guess what it is.! Iʼve read a number of different books very recently, within the past month, that speak about something that confused me for a long time. Matt Chandler, John Piper, and N.T. Wright all write to some extent about the Philippian passage, to live is christ, and to die is gain. And while their expositions on the subject provide very helpful and accurate insight on what Paul meant when he 8
said it. Nothing ever teaches us as well as seeing it exemplified. At least for me this is true, and even though Iʼve read about this a lot recently, it wasnʼt until I was preparing for this morning that it really made sense.! Philippians 1:21 says, For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain. To live is Christ. What does this mean? To live is Christ. Paul explains by saying, to live is fruitful labour (v22). Not for himself, but for others. Because itʼs necessary for you (v24) that is, the Philippian church, that Paul remain living and labouring for the gospel.! So, to live is Christ, becomes, to live is to produce fruit that others need very much. Fruit that results in progress and joy of faith (v25). Why are these synonomous for Paul? Isnʼt it more confusing to say to live is Christ, when he could say, to live is to produce fruit for your faith? The key word being ʻfaith.ʼ! Faith isnʼt just faith in Jesus, itʼs faith in Jesus, by Jesus. For Paul, to live, is to live for the sake of your faith, which is in Christ and is by Christ.! For me, to live, is to live loving others, and in so loving our brothers and sisters for thy sake, may grow in thy love, and dwelling in thy love may dwell in thee; for Jesus Christʼs sake. Amen.! This life, a live loving others with faith in Christ by Christ, is what I saw exemplified. 9
! To live is Christ, and to die is gain. To die is gain. This is the easy part. Keeping in mind that Paul doesnʼt wish to glorify himself, that in his death, Paul wishes that Christ would be glorified. In paraphrasing verses 20-21 Paul says, My ernest expectation is that Christ will be magnified in my body by death, for to me to die is gain. To die is gain, because to die is to be with Christ, and that is far better. And if you view being with Christ as far better, then by dying with this attitude you magnify Christ in your death. It means the best is yet to come. Not your own glory or acheivements... Christ.! When your sight is set on Christ, death and life are both a way of glorifying Him. [band come up]! When your sight is set on Christ, death and life are both a way of glorifying Him. If you know how to live this way, youʼll know how to die this way. And if you know how to die this way, then you will know how to live glorifying Christ. The way we honour Christ in death is to treasure Jesus above the gift of life, and the way we honour Christ in life is to treasure Jesus above lifeʼs gifts. - J. Piper. 10
! If I may, Iʼd like to tie that into the lyrics I shared with you earlier, from the song my family wrote the night of my momʼs death. This is your victory. What? Death? Why? Because she understood, and yes, even though I didnʼt understand it at the time, I knew something was right. We all did. And this song helped us say it. God glorified in life and death! I saw this in my mother, I saw her remain, for the sake of the gospel; and I saw her depart, for the sake of the gospel. Nothing for her own glory, all for the glory of Christ. 11