Last Call?

Luke 13:1-9

Isaiah 55:1-9

Rev. Stephen H. Wilkins

Georgetown Presbyterian Church

March 11, 2007

The little girl was five years old, and she had never been sick other than with a cold or a stomach virus. One day she was playing with her friend, and suddenly the little girl complained of a severe headache. By the time the girl’s mother came to pick her up, the little girl was losing her sight. The mother rushed her daughter to the hospital, where a CAT scan revealed a large tumor in her brain, pressing against her optic nerve.

Later that week the chaplain of the hospital was summoned to the pediatric waiting room to sit with the mother while the young girl was in surgery. The chaplain found the mother outside on the patio, next to an ash tray that was filled with cigarette butts; the mother smelled like she had smoked every one of them. She was staring at her feet, dazed and numb from the whirlwind of tests and surgical prep that her daughter had gone through over the previous few days.

The chaplain sat down next to the mother. After some small talk, the mother began to express how awful she felt for her daughter. She had come to a sobering conclusion that she was at fault for what was happening to her daughter.

"It’s my punishment," she said, "for smoking all these darned cigarettes. God couldn’t get my attention any other way, so he made my baby sick." Then the mother started crying so hard that what she said next came out like a siren: "Now, I’m supposed to stop smoking, but I can’t stop. I’m going to kill my own child."

Now you and I both know that the mother was not being rational at the time that she reached that conclusion. But she was struggling to cope with an unbearable reality, and so she had to come up with a plausible reason. She was even willing to be the reason, if that would make a difference in the outcome for her daughter.

The struggle that the mother was going through is a common struggle. It has to do with the problem of suffering in relation to a good and loving and powerful God. The "problem" is generally stated like this: If God is infinitely good and loving (which is, in fact, true), and if God is all powerful (which is also, in fact, true), then why is there evil and suffering in the world? For as long as there has been human life outside the Garden of Eden, that one little three-letter word, "Why", has confounded us. Why?

Why did that tornado have to hit the high school in Enterprise, Alabama? Why did a fire on Friday leave a Maryville family homeless? Why has cancer struck so many people we know and love? Why do car bombs keep exploding throughout Baghdad? Why?....Why?....Why?

I would not be surprised if the question "Why?" was the reason that people came to Jesus and told him of the Galileans who were slaughtered by Pilate while they were worshiping in the Temple. Jesus also suspects that the question "Why?" lies behind people’s searching for answers concerning a tragic accident in which a tower fell and killed 18 people who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The truth is, when bad things happen, we long to know why. Even more, when bad things happen to good people, we long to know why. Sometimes it’s a search for more than the cause of the suffering; it’s a desire to pin the responsibility on someone, to assign blame. That’s the assumption behind Jesus’ remarks concerning the slaughter in the Temple and the tragic collapse of the tower of Siloam. The implied question to which Jesus is responding is something like, "What did they do to deserve such a death?" It is the assumption that there must be a cause-and-effect relationship between every incident of suffering, that there must be some kind of sinful action behind all suffering.

But Jesus would have none of it. Not only does Jesus refuse to conclude that the people who died those sudden and horrible deaths somehow were worse sinners than other people, but he also refuses to answer the question, "Why?". Jesus does not provide a cause-and-effect answer to the problem of suffering; rather, Jesus answers the question by directing us to the more important question, the question of how should people of faith respond to the reality of suffering?

Stop asking why, he says, and instead ask, "What shall I do about it?".

From "Why?", to "What shall I do about it?" That’s the journey that Trevor Beeson took. Beeson had stood at the altar of Westminster Abbey to present his daughter in marriage. Nine months later he stood before the same altar, but this time beside the coffin of his son-in-law who was killed in an automobile accident. Four months later Beeson was again in front of the altar, this time beside the coffin of his friend and hero Earl Mountbatten, who was killed when his fishing boat was blown to pieces by Irish terrorists.

As he struggled for meaning through those tragic deaths, Beeson came to the conclusion that, although we naturally ask, "Why did it happen?", the more important question is, "What are we going to make of it?". Every tragedy, he said, contains within it the seeds of resurrection.

It is precisely that move, from "Why?", to "What are we going to make of it?", that Jesus forces us to make when he speaks to the crowds struggling for answers. For instead of giving them a reason that the tragedies happened, he gave them advice as to what they should do. To the one-word question "Why?", he did not give an answer. But to the more relevant question, "What are we going to make of it?", he gave a simple one-word answer: Repent.

"Unless you repent," says Jesus twice, "you will all perish just as they did." I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that this is not quite the pastoral response that I was expecting to the problem of suffering and evil. Shape up, or ship out! That’s what it sounds like. It makes me wonder if the people to whom Jesus was speaking didn’t say to themselves, "Why do I have to repent? Shouldn’t Pilate be the one who needs to repent? Shouldn’t the architect who built the tower be the one who needs to repent? What have I done wrong?"

It’s unfortunate that when most of us hear the word "repent", it carries a negative connotation. Some think repentance means that we have to walk around beating ourselves for something we have done wrong. People have this notion that repentance means we have to weep and gnash our teeth and moan and wail and grovel for mercy.

It is true that there must be some measure of regret for repentance to take place, some degree of contrition. But only to the degree that we’re dissatisfied with the way things are, and we decide that we need to turn our lives in a new direction. That’s what the word "repent" literally means--to change direction, to turn around. In theological terms, repentance means turning away from an old way of life that isn’t working, and turning towards God. It’s a spiritual U-turn.

And so instead of being something to dread, repentance becomes something that brings a profound sense of hope, for it is the acknowledgement that in God there is a better way. In that regard, repentance is an act of faith.

There is in Jesus’ words a sense of urgency. Repent, or you will perish just as they did. It is a "last call" of sorts. Neither the Galileans slaughtered in the Temple, nor the bystanders who were crushed by the tower that collapsed, had any warning that the end was near. Both incidents are reminders that life is always in a delicate balance, and the end may just catch us by surprise. And so Jesus gives us the last call: Repent, while you still can.

Isaiah said it so very well: Seek the Lord while He may be found, call on him while he’s near. Let the wicked forsake their ways, and the evil ones their thoughts. Let them turn to the Lord, and God will have mercy on them, and to our God, for God will freely pardon. Seek the Lord while he may be found… The truth is, there will come a day when the Lord will not be found, and neither you nor I know when that day will come.

But the Lord can be found today. Seize the opportunity that is before you today. Turn to God, while you are still able to turn to God. Put your faith in God while you still can. Turn away from the notion that you can become righteous in your own right, and take that step that says that you trust in Jesus Christ for your righteousness and your salvation. Repent now! For though it is true that God will honor a deathbed confession of faith just as God will honor the faith of a young child, so is it also true that you never truly know when you will be on your deathbed. Repent, or you will perish. Every day that you live is a last call. Seek the Lord while he may be found…

There’s another last call in this morning’s passage. After his call to repent, Jesus tells a parable. It seems that a fig tree had been planted and great care had been given to it, yet it failed year after year to bear fruit. The owner of the vineyard orders the tree removed from the garden, but the gardener pleads on behalf of the tree, and gains a second chance for the tree. Give it one more chance, he says, one more year.

You see, turning toward God is one thing. But a tree is known by its fruit, and unless your life bears the fruit of repentance, then the repentance that you profess is little more than lip service.

If you come to the church during the week, you’re likely to run into Ray Thompson, our custodian. Ray’s father passed away last week, and the funeral service was last Thursday. Several folks from this church went to the funeral, which was at a small church near Hemingway.

During the service, the choir and the congregation broke out into song several times. At one point the whole place was rocking with the singing of "You Oughta Live So God Can Use You." We actually have that song in our hymnal, with the words slightly changed: I’m Gonna Live So God Can Use Me. It was a simple song, but it has great power in its simplicity and repetition: You oughta live so God can use you, any time, anywhere… You oughta work so God can use you, any time, anywhere… You oughta pray so God can use you, any time, anywhere… The place was rocking with people on their feet, swaying back and forth, clapping their hands, and singing at the top of their voices. It went on for nearly 10 minutes. It was a powerful reminder that no matter how long we have to live on this earth, we ought to live our lives in service to God.

If you’re going to be a fig tree, you ought to bear forth figs.

If you’re going to live as a child of God, your life ought to show it.

If you’re going to live as a child of God, you oughta live so God can use you.

Repent. Bear fruit.

And do it now.

Amen.