An Inkling
In the space of a single week our family is gaining one and losing one. Hilton Robert Sherrard was born last Thursday, our second grandson. He’s healthy and happy – at least when he’s fed and rested! We’re rejoicing at such a marvelous gift.
But this week we also heard that my Uncle Bill is dying. He’s 87, and has a mass around his heart. He was the Uncle who made us laugh with crazy ranching stories and hilarious wisecracks about his favorite team, the Dallas Cowboys. The whole family is saddened to think of his departure.
A birth announcement and an obituary in a single week put me to thinking. Such listings in the newspaper stand next to news that poses interesting questions, such as:
Given that Hilton has been born into a world where AIDS is pandemic, terrorism is unleashed, the economy is unstable, and families are in chaos, why would we celebrate his birth? Who knows what sorts of hideous realities young Hilton will face over the course of his life? Would it not have been better never to have been born?
Given that Bill was an honored veteran of World War 2, married and fathered wonderfully, ran a fine oil leasing business, was a fine churchman, and contributed a lot to his community, but died anyway, why would we do anything but despair at his death? If someone does everything right – or nearly everything – and still dies, does life or how we live it really matter?
Every generation has asked such questions about life and death. Some answer such questions with despair or cynicism, but those who have met Jesus answer with hope. He brings hope to both life and death.
Jesus is Hilton’s hope for a life of meaning and peace in a world that makes for neither. And he is Bill’s hope for life beyond the hard boundaries of mortality. Thus we crazy Christians celebrate both births and deaths. One celebration comes easily, and the other comes hard. But both celebrations honor the one who is Hilton’s and Bill’s and our hope.
Blessings,
Keith
