I stand before you reluctantly, and only because Peter’s wife asked me to speak. I am not qualified to address you today except for two circumstances, one good and the other bad. The good is that I knew Peter and worked with him, and can attest that he was a talented, gracious person who will be sorely missed by all who knew him. The bad is that like him, I am also sick with cancer that modern medicine is unable to control. So, against my wishes, I, too, am an expert on what it is like to have everything life can offer, except my health. Perhaps Peter is unique in that only his passing could assemble this group, at this time, in this place. Let me do my best to redeem the occasion.
Now don’t get me wrong, there is nothing I have not done to avoid being here. I wish to God I were out there with you, lamenting Peter’s death without having to have premonitions of what may be in my own future. There is no treatment I have not requested, no stone I have left unturned, that I might be given a reprieve and be allowed to once again become careless about life. But the recurrent theme of my existence has become this: you may well die sooner rather than later, so what are you going to do about it? Needless to say, I’ve put my affairs in order in a deliberate and conscious way. Taking care of my family and my estate is fairly easy; to a large degree that’s what Peter and I did for a living. We helped people take action today that would bear fruit for tomorrow. The harder part was to deal with the sense that I am more than a body; that I have a soul that is trapped in this frail, dysfunctional body, that will surely outlast it. I have a future, and even though I don’t know the details, I do know that it, like my finances, it requires preparation and execution. Let me explain.
There were two things that were keeping me awake at night. First of all, I found out that I was not ready to die. I realized I was in debt to my Creator because of moral guilt. I had sins of omission and commission that were real and had to be answered for before I could face death with confidence. The second thing I needed was to learn is how to live. How can I, whether I live a year or 100 years, acquire the power to reform myself? When pressed by circumstances, I was not a better person to those around me, but worse. To quote the Apostle Paul, “I can know what is right, but it is the wrong that I despise that I keep on doing.” I had to admit that I was essentially powerless and unable to change, learn and grow without outside help.
Happily, in spite of my neurotic Roman Catholic upbringing, I have found answers to both problems. They didn’t come from religion, but from a person, by the name of Jesus of Nazareth. What I have discovered, is that in addition to being historical facts, his death and resurrection are profoundly personal events, relevant to all humanity. When he died on a cross, executed by the Roman state, he accepted the punishment that was due all of us for our sins. In doing this, he allowed a wonderful exchange to take place: our sins for his righteousness. And not just our sins, MY sins. In a very real way, I was present at the Cross. I can face the prospect of death with confidence that I stand fully justified and pure before my Maker. Further, this man did not stay in the ground, but was raised by the Father to a new life, one that he is permitted to share with all those who will ask for it. No longer do I have to work and strive to be a better person. What I have to do is to admit my failure, to STOP trying, to get out of the way, and to let this Jesus do it all through me. It is His life that now permeates this body of mine, doing in me what I want to do, but have always fallen short of actually doing. So whether I live a year or 100, I can move beyond mere existence, to a state of constant interchange with my Master that can only be described as truly living. In this man I have the two things I need most in this world, a Savior for my sins, and a Lord for my life.
So I have discovered this truth: it is the very finitude of life that makes the days we have together sacred and meaningful. Peter’s wife already knows this in a personal way, that only in his passing can she full appreciate what his presence meant. So I challenge you all to redeem Peter’s death and my struggle by going through the same exercise we have had to engage in: how can I let the prospect of death teach me to truly live? Your presence in this room has been purchased at a high price; Peter’s death and my on-going struggle. You have to power to make sense of all this, if you will, like us, embrace your mortality and take from it the good news that you only have two problems, and they have both been solved before you even knew of them, by the One who made you, and who craves to walk with you today and forever.
