WHAT CHRIST MEANS TO ME
There is not depth enough to any one man's experience to
adequately express the Christian gospel. Nor could anyone hope to adequately
do so in the few minutes allowed this morning. I recognize that. So, in
telling you this morning what Christ means to me, I would just like to talk
to you very simply about something that's been on my heart these last two
weeks—something that comes out of a life situation.
It was Friday morning and I had a busy day lined up. I’d invited several fellows to lunch and had thirty more destined for a plant tour later that afternoon. Accordingly, I was enjoying the luxury of taking a little longer to dress—and therefore, was still at the house when Rev. Cutler knocked on the door.
"Did you know about Bob Smith?" he said.
"No, what happened?" I said.
"Well, he was in a small plane last night that crashed
near
I hope you know that Bob Smith was a member of this
congregation. A forty-six year old father of three children who lived next
door to us, Bob, more than anyone else, was responsible for getting the
Ehlert’s back in church on a regular basis. And now, suddenly, stark tragedy
had struck that family.
Usually, tragedy is something that happens to somebody
else. And we're kind of indifferent about it. We accept it in a
philosophical way—its part and parcel of things. But when it hits us—it
becomes a question that bothers us through the night and will not be
quieted.
That men should grow old naturally, achieve some of the
objectives they've set for themselves, reach maturity, ripen on the tree of
life and then, graciously prepare with some dignity and resignation for the
final journey—that, we are usually prepared to accept. But when sudden
tragedy strikes and breaks life off…
Well, Rev. Cutler and I went next door. Rev. Cutler is
beautiful at a time like this. I greeted Elaine with a sympathetic hug. It
was spontaneous—all I could think of at the time.
The house was bustling. Business associates were on the
scene. Details of the accident were sketchy and still coming in by
telephone. As I recall it now, those first few hours are something of a blur
to me—as I'm sure they still are to others. But I found myself blending
right in, helping to hold things together and sort of sparking many of the
things that needed to be done.
Relatives would eventually arrive, but distance made that
immediately impossible. Meanwhile, I was moved to stay there and help fill
the void. Blessed by inexperience with this sort of thing, unsure of what I
would say next, God seemed to plant the words in my heart—and I knew there
was no other place I could be that day, or the next, and the next.
Now, I believe in God. In fact, I have found life so good
that I cannot account for it without God. Therefore, my basic conviction is
one of optimism and joy—for underneath this interpretation of life is the
quiet reservoir of joy and conviction that comes from being sure of God's
presence in my life at all times.
And I have implicit faith in the goodness of God. Yet, at
a time when all seems against us, when momentary chaos prevails, how can one
reconcile all this with the goodness of God and His eternal presence?
From the mixture of family, friends and relatives that
became my family the next few days, I heard comments about the apparent
chance of it all—the seeming unfairness, over and over the question—why did
Bob go on that plane to his death?
And it just doesn't make any sense. "How can there be a
God," one said, "to allow this sort of thing to happen?"
Well, I don't want anyone leaving here this morning
feeling that I have all the answers to these questions. I don't know why
this happened. I do know that God shows no partiality—has no pets. That
Christians are exposed to the same hazards and happenstances of life as
non-Christians.
But chances, accidents, mishaps aren't God's
mistakes—they're ours.
For we live in a world where
certain things exist—certain relationships between cause and effect, between
action and reaction. We press a button and this will happen.
We step out in front of a moving car and it
will not suddenly stop, as though God had suddenly descended and suspended
the operation of natural laws.
No. We go in airplanes and we take our chances that they
will not always safely return, though, thank God, they usually do!
Nor does Christianity offer any simple answer to these
things. Christianity offers no movie like, happy ending. Yet it struggles
honestly and realistically with suffering and death—for at its very heart is
the strange and tormented figure of another man who was seemingly abandoned
to chance and unfair destructiveness. And from that cross also came the
tortured question—Why? Why?
So, in the midst of tragedy, I gradually realized that if
I indeed have faith in the implicit goodness of God, yes, that God redeems
even tragedy in life so the final outcome is good—if Christ means anything
to me, and he does—there were some rather basic ideas I ought to be planting
at a time like this.
And thus, I found myself pointing to another man who died
in relatively early life—a man who on our behalf assumed scars far worse
than ours. To a man whose anguish on the cross should give comfort when life
seems to throw all of its weight against us. And to a God who turned that
dreadful noontide of darkness into a sunrise of hope, so that we cry with
Peter—"Blessed be God who has borne us again into a living hope by the
resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead."
Is this all beginning to sound a little heavy? To some of
you, perhaps so. Yet, if any of you have a different answer that will bring
comfort in a time of need, I hope you'll share it with me after the service.
For, when you think about it, no Christian can talk about death separate
from Jesus Christ. And none need ever face tragedy alone—with the cross
woven into the very heart of all suffering, and, with the resurrection, our
final assurance that gives hope.
For, while Christianity hasn't neatly worked out all the
answers, while it may not explain evil, it does teach us how to deal with
it. And so, to some of us gathered there in the Smith home, the question
gradually became—not, is it fair, or how did this get here—but how can this
be defeated?
Jesus defeated death, my friends.
He conquered it!
It's a worn phrase, I know, but have faith in
God—believe in him! When the going gets rough and you cannot see your way
through, when you don't understand—still hang on! When questions linger and
answers wait and there seems no reason for your faith, still believe. For
the night shall pass and the dawn shall come, and already the radiance of
God's promise is in the heart of the man who holds fast to God and believes.
Believes.
This I know from my own experience. It is something that
I have felt. That I believe. Something out of a life situation that has done
more to reinforce my faith than any other single event in a long time.
These are some of the truths I shared in moments of
crisis with the Smiths, their relatives, their friends.
This is what I wanted to share with you this morning.
It's an example of—what Christ means to me.
—David G. Ehlert
The above came to me from my friend William Busby along with the following note:
The gentleman that I do computer work for. who now resides in Atlanta Georgia and is undergoing a biography of his fore-bearers and his contribution to this world is David G. Ehlert. The attached document was written by him. It seems at one point in time he strayed (don't we all) but when he lived in Deerfield, Illinois he reaffirmed his commitment. By the way he is a Presbyterian. Take the time to read, very good..........
It is indeed very good and his story is worth repeating. The biography of his ancestors and more of his (their) contribution to the world is also noteworthy and I wish Mr. Ehlert every success with it. He has graciously granted permission to include his story here. His story is the very essence of this web site and it belongs here.
The occasion of his comments seem to have been an address to the congregation at a memorial service. If I get more information I will add it here. I don't know Mr Ehlert but I wish I did. I would like to regard him as a kindred spirit although I do not know that I could have been as strong and wise as was he. But all of us can do something even if it is only to "help fill the void". This is what God asks of us, to do whatever we can when the need arises.
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Ordinary People - Many people, ordinary in every way, do extraordinary things. Very often, they themselves do not feel that their actions are anything but what is expected of them by God. They are an example to all of us, a witness to a way of life that is reachable to the rest of us ordinary people. These pages are their stories. |
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What Christ Means to Me
06/26/2008 |
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The
World of Grandpa Don www.plefka.net |
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by The JavaScript Source | |
