Electric Circuit Rider

http: www.cbsrz.net  
Dianne Covault will be preaching using the readings for All Saints Day. However, the alternative readings for the first Sunday in November tell the story of Zacchaeus – he’s the “Wee little man who climbed up in the sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see”.
Recently, Jacquie and I watched the movie, The Station Agent, a 2003 movie starring Peter Dinklage as a man who lives a very solitary life inside an old train station because of his dwarfism (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0340377/).
In the movie, a convenient store clerk snaps a picture of him as he takes some milk from the cooler, presumably to show her friends. Young men laugh at him as he passes them on the street. And a 12-year-old girl asks him what grade he is in at school.
Dinklage delivers a beautiful understated performance in a role that is a far cry from the “munchkin” roles that usually go to people like him. His loneliness is broken when two other people, Olivia and Joe, who are somewhat odd themselves, accept Peter’s character, Finbar, for who he is – a guy who is crazy about trains.
The movie is a reminder that Zacchaeus had the same problem. He compensated for it by becoming the chief tax-collector- the richest and most feared man in town.  
Funny how we build whole lives around our biggest problems.
At any rate, Zacchaeus is saved when Jesus invites himself to Zacchaeus’ house for dinner. Eating with someone is an act of acceptance. The fact that Jesus accepted him changed Zacchaeus’ life. He no longer had to be rich and he no longer had to be feared – because he was accepted.
A great theologian of the mid-20^th century, Paul Tillich, once preached a powerful sermon, “You are accepted”. In it he says,
“You are accepted.
You are accepted,
Accepted by that which is greater than you . . .
Do not seek for anything;
Do not perform anything;
Do not intend anything.
Simply accept the fact that you are accepted.”
Tillich, Paul. The Shaking of the Foundations ( New York . Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1948) p. 162 (author’s italics) .

One of the things I knew would happen when I became the lead pastor of a congregation with the size and demographic composition of Elyria First UMC is that I would soon be grieving all the time. The first year, it wasn’t so bad. The folks that died were, if I knew them at all, merely acquaintances - although even then, some of them made a deep impression on me.

But this year, many of the 35+ funerals that I have performed have been for friends.  A surprising number of these folks were physically and spiritually vigorous and active in our church until just a few months - even a few weeks - before they died.  I not only saw them on Sundays, but also saw them in other contexts several times each month.

And then, if there was any warning at all - and there almost always was - I spent as much time as I could with them during their final days. I genuinely miss them - some of them I miss a lot.

In my funeral sermons, I often counsel those who are left behind to look to the deceased as someone who can teach them the art of living. As I look back at some of the folks who have died this past year, here are some of the things they taught me about the art of living.

Take delight in your grandchildren. Several of the folks who passed away left behind wonderful families - not just their kids, but their grandkids. Some of that is due to grace - in fact, most of it probably is -and I don’t know any of these folks who believed that their virtues guaranteed that the third generation would turn out as well as they have. But what I saw in all of these people was a genuine delight in and gratitude for their grandchildren. They made time for their grandkids, they knew their grandkids and when their last day came their grandkids not only wept, but they also knew that they were special because Grandpa or Grandma had believed they were.

The Lord of Life hands out second chances. As people approach the end of their lives they tell stories about their lives to anyone who will sit and listen. One of the most important stories I hear told in different ways by different people is the one that starts out, “I made a huge mistake when I was young”, and then it goes on, “And I was in deep trouble for a long time”, but then it turns, “But I met this person, or I made this decision, or I decided to start going to church . . .” The story goes on and maybe the person has a new family or finds a good job or more often than not, finds out that faith really works.

Don’t take yourself too seriously. The most amazing thing that I discovered about dying people is that they can laugh. Not everyone does, of course, but a lot of the people I miss the most figured out a way to laugh almost right up to the end. My wife always says, “Life is too serious to take seriously.” That is certainly what the folks who live well and die well seem to practice.

There really is no one like you. The folks I miss the most were all themselves. They didn’t apologize for it. They believed they were created to be who they were and they thanked God for who they were.

Thomas Merton says that a saint is someone who is truly himself. God knows who we are. Unlike trees and animals who become themselves automatically, we get to choose - like a child choosing which mask to wear on Halloween. But All Saints Day is the day when we celebrate the people who didn’t wear a mask to make themselves acceptable or to scare other people because inside they were afraid of other people. We celebrate the people who didn’t wear a mask because they figured out either early or late in life that God wanted them to be themselves.

So, it’s hard to be the pastor who has to bury so many good people. The pay-off is that I get to sit at the feet of the masters of the art of living.