“From Labour's Rest”
Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Dr. Andrew Stirling
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Text: Revelation 14:6-13
Not long ago, I was reading a comment by an American social commentator. The comment was made not only about the United States but about North America and the world as a whole. This writer said: “It appears as if the world is in the vice-grip of death.” Not exactly a cheery thought! “The world is in the vice-grip of death.” I thought that I would test the theory a little bit. And so, I decided last Sunday I would begin by reading the front pages of the newspaper - I always go to the sports pages first, but they are getting a bit depressing if you are a Leafs or a Habs fan at the moment.
I went to the front page and thought, “I wonder if there will be references to death?” To my non-surprise, three of the four leading stories were about death, disaster or murder. I then thought that I would see for the next week whether this same trend continued. Every day of the week went by and on the front page of the newspaper there was a story about death.
I got up this morning wondering whether the circle of a full week would be complete, and sure enough, I read the Toronto Star this morning. “Will it find me?” it declares, as cholera spreads and the death toll rises in Haiti. The commentator, rather than being depressive, was being accurate. It appears that we are at times in the vice-grip of death. You cannot enjoy a morning's coffee and bagel without death being on the front page of the newspaper. It is ubiquitous! It is everywhere!
This last week I went for a walk in my neighbourhood. I was thoroughly enjoying the walk, as I do, when I came upon one house on a corner that had a Halloween display the likes of which I have never seen before in my life! It had all these figures that were blown up with hot air: the Grim Reaper in front of a hearse and a great, big cat swallowing someone alive. It had a tomb from which there were restless souls screaming. And, the one that I loved the most and that the music people would adore, an organist bent over, looking emaciated and poorly clothed and paid, going over to the organ and playing it while morbid music sounded. It was amazing! I was captivated by it! I thought it was very funny!
It is in many ways. We find a way, do we not, to deal with the morbidity of the world and death by making light of it, by making fun of it, by joking about it? The one that I liked most was a car that is on the street adjacent to ours, and coming out of the hood are two legs and two arms and nothing else in a Citroen Deux Cheveaux. It looks like the body is actually in the engine. Not a pretty sight, but very funny!
At times, do we not create mythologies to deal with death? We create characters and images, such as the Grim Reaper, but the Grim Reaper finds its roots in Chapter 14 of the Book of Revelation. We also have other mythologies about death, and systems, and creatures, and ideas about who comes to get us and when.
But all of these are temporary respites from the reality of death. We might laugh at it, we might joke about it, but I couldn't help but think, as I read the newspaper that in almost every single occasion, where there is a story of death there are victims. There are people who are left behind. There are mourners who grieve. There are mothers who are distraught that their daughters were murdered by a psychopath. There are people who live around areas where there have been natural disasters, only to pick the bodies out of the rubble. Oh, you can laugh at death, you can make fun of death, you can create mythologies about death, but it is serious. It is not to be taken lightly.
That is why I love our passage from the Book of Revelation today. Hell and damnation and fire and Babylon and fornication and death! But look at the end of it. At the end of it, there is this incredible phrase, “Blessed are those whose rest is in the Lord.” This does not take death and make fun of it, does not laugh at it, but takes it seriously, and understands that God in the end is the victor over it.
This incredible Book of Revelation was written at a time when Christians were facing persecution under the Emperor Domitian, probably in the 90s of the first century. It was written as an apocalyptic literature. In other words, it had been revealed, but it had been revealed in coded language, language that only those who lived in that day and age would fully understand: imagery from the Old Testament, imagery from things that were going on around them. They understood what was going on in Patmos(the island where the writer was living); we have a slightly harder time with it.
Yet, throughout it all, there is this warning against falling away from the faith in the face of persecution: A warning not to break fellowship with one another or to stop loving one another, a warning about heresy, about the leading astray and the worship of idolatry. Oh, there are stern warnings in the Book of Revelation, but as Dr. Joe Mangina of Wycliffe College in his brand new book on Revelation suggests, in verse 13 of our passage today, there is a turning point: After all the concern and criticism that the powers of this world that are persecuting them will pass away. Those who believe in God will find their rest in him. They will be blessed.
Today is a very strange nexus of themes within our church. It is Stewardship Sunday, it is Reformation Sunday, and it is also All Saints. I think that this passage about the rest of the souls from their labours is and has great impact on all three of these things.
I think it does, first of all, in our understanding of the saints. By the saints, I do not mean those who are canonized, those like Brother Andre that have been recognized by our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters this past week. I am talking about those who have found their rest in God, those who have found peace in the power of God, and have remained steadfast in their life's journey with God. Those are the saints. The saints are the faithful ones.
In our great Protestant tradition, there is the belief in “the priesthood of all believers”, and there is the recognition that the saints can come from any rank. It is those who have committed their lives to God and have been faithful in the service of God. And so, when John writes in Revelation, “Blessed are those who die in the Lord,” he is really talking about those who are the saints. But it seems strange, does it not, to say “Blessed are the dead?” After all, it seems that death is everything but blessed: it is separation, it is the end of something, and it produces mourning and grief.
Not for John, not for the writer of the Book of Revelation, or indeed for all of those who believe in the Christian Gospel. Death is the segue into a fuller presence with God. It is a place for eternal rest, it is the end of our strivings, it is the end of our labours, it is peace, it is comfort, and it is eternity. I think that throughout the generations it is that very belief that has empowered people to live in the present. It is those who have gone before, those who have found their rest in God who have become a source and an inspiration for all of those who come after them. John knew how important that was to the churches in the Book of Revelation, and it is important today.
Let me share with you something that I really felt strongly last Sunday. As many of you know, this was the day when we celebrated the 100th anniversary of our church. What a glorious day it was! Before I entered the pulpit, I was acutely aware of those in whose footsteps I was treading. As I climbed the stairs to the pulpit, I was overwhelmed, really overwhelmed by a profound sense of honour and recognition that others greater than myself had gone before me, and I was so overwhelmed and so moved that it buoyed me throughout the whole of the sermon. I was acutely aware, not that they were there tapping me on the shoulder, going “Yeah, that wasn't very good” or “I'd strengthen that point” or “maybe that's a good one, Andrew”. No! It was just the recognition that some had gone before me who were faithful and strong and had borne witness. It really, really comforted me.
I think that is what the cloud of witnesses and real saints and those who have remained strong and faithful do for us. John knew that those who had been persecuted, those who were having to remain strong in their faith and maintain the bond of love, even under the persecution of Rome, needed to know the blessedness of the rest that comes to those who die in the Lord. What a word of comfort and what a word of peace!
This brings me to the Reformation because this passage has often caused quite a controversy within the Reformed tradition. “Those who from their labours rest.” Well, as you know in the Reformation there was a great debate about how we earn God's favour. Is it through works or is it through grace? Is it through trying to please God by doing good things, or by recognizing that God's Son has done for us what we cannot do for ourselves? Some have looked at this passage and said, “Ah, well, you see labour's rest and the good deeds follow after them, it works after all, not faith.” Nonsense!
This passage is about those who in their daily turmoil, in their struggle to remain faithful, in the bond of love that remains steadfast, and from that struggle comes rest, from those labours comes peace, not to earn God's favour, but in response to God to do great and wonderful things. In the tradition of the great Reformers, my mind turned over the last week to one who is hardly known in the pantheon of great Reformers, but one who actually, by virtue of his courage and his faith, is responsible for us who are here today. His name was John Owen. Not a name that resonates like Calvin or Luther, or later, Wesley or Wilberforce, but John Owen.
John Owen was born in Oxfordshire, brought up by Puritan parents who had taken on the Reformation by heart and were convinced of its truth, who home-schooled as a boy, who, at the age of twelve was admitted to Oxford University - a real underachiever, right? At the age of twelve, he went there, and like they often say: “It is harder to get into a great university than it is to get out of one.” From the age of twelve he continued to study there for nine years - that is a long degree! He was there for nine years and he was a great scholar, he had a brilliant mind, he kept taking other courses and other degree programs. They didn't have the structure of university that we have today. It was more all-encompassing and open than it is now. Nevertheless, he went there and he was part of the Puritan movement.
But then, something dreadful happened to him. Archbishop Laud became Chancellor of the university and he was a follower of Charles I. He decided that he wanted to expunge these Puritans and their Reform ideas from the church and university. Young John Owen, this brilliant scholar, was kicked out of Oxford for being a Puritan, for being a Reformer. Charles I continued to have Bishop Laud and others like him kick Puritans out of universities.
Finally, there was a Civil War. Charles' government had become corrupt. In the end, a man named Oliver Cromwell came on the scene and the Civil War ended when Cromwell won. Cromwell, realizing that he needed new people, new pastors to take on the Puritan cause, had heard of a young pastor called John Owen and after not very long, realized he had somebody great here. He was appointed Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University… it had come full circle! John Owen did a great job, and the university grew and they built more colleges and there was a renewal.
The problem was that throughout it all, Cromwell got more and more power. John Owen actually stood as a Member of Parliament and won. And then, one day in Parliament, the supporters of Cromwell thought it was a good idea for Cromwell to be made king. John Owen said, “No!” The principle of the Reformation is there is only one king and that is the Lord our God. Cromwell turned on Owen. Owen went back to Oxford University and amazingly, found himself replaced within weeks.
He was sent to be a pastor in a small congregation in Oxfordshire. He went back to the Pastorates and continued to preach the Gospel. Then Cromwell died, Charles took over, and the monarchy was restored. They even tried to close the small congregations where people like Owen were ministering. He was penniless, without a church, without a university - nothing! This brave scholar and theologian was destitute.
It was also the time of the Great Plague in London and the Establishment ministers of the big churches left the city for fear of becoming ill themselves. The only people left to minister to the poor and the wretched in the city were the Puritan pastors and their little wooden churches. When the great fire came and burned down many of the great edifices of London, the Puritan pastors were the ones who ministered to people who were homeless and living on the streets.
John Owen ended his days ministering to the poor and the outcast in the inner city of London. This great scholar, formerly Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, was living in penury, caring for the poor, and faithful to the end. He said just before his death, “I leave the ship in stormy weather, but I know that there is a pilot who guides it, and I am someone of little consequence, because the pilot will keep the church going.” John Owen, whose convictions were borne out of peace, whose faith and steadfastness were borne out of a fire, knew his rest was ultimately in God. Praise be to John Owen - a real saint!
Finally, this text moves us to a sense of mission. It is not just about us and our welfare and our rest and our peace. I find too many Christians are self-absorbed with only their own welfare and their own eternal destination at the expense of everything else. If you subscribe to the belief: “Blessed are those who rest in the Lord,” then you want to take on death in all its forms. The mission of the church, it seems to me, is always a mission borne out of ultimate hope to address the things that take human life unnecessarily.
We are all mortal. We are all going to die. It is a fact of life. But, there are people who die unnecessarily in this world. The mission of the church, it seems to me, is to assist and rectify and turnaround those things, whether people are dying of malaria in Africa in great numbers, or cholera in Haiti, people with HIV/AIDs throughout the world, whether it is those who live in slums and poverty and have poor water and sanitation, whether it is those who are in places of war and violence and conflict, whether it is those who are abused at home or bullied in school, it matters not, the church, as John Owen reminds us, is always to be where the people are suffering. It is where those who are in agony and despair find their lives. The mission of the church is surely to go into those places and to address them with a word of hope, with the word of life.
There are certain things also that don't just kill the body, they kill the soul. Carl Jung, the great psychoanalyst, once said, “One of the great problems of our age is the neurosis of emptiness.” There are many people who look at death and laugh at it and have their mythologies, but when it comes down to really dealing with the substance of life, don't have a great deal on which to rely. People who despair, people who are anxious, people who mourn, people who trust in sin to get them out rather than forgiveness, people who trust in things that cannot help them and heal them.
The Christian Gospel is always a gospel for those who are broken - broken in spirit as well as broken in body. John knew that in the Book of Revelation. In it, he said these triumphant words, words of hope and words of encouragement: “Blessed are those who die in the Lord. They shall rest from their labours.” A word of hope in a world that is in a vice-grip of death! Amen.