O Death, where is thy sting?

Editor’s Note: The following is a sermon by Rev. Ben Lacy Rose, preached at the funeral of his daughter at Hebron Presbyterian Church, Manakin-Sabot, VA, on Sunday, July 27, 1997.

Text: 1 Cor. 15;54-57 – "Death is swallowed up in victory. O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory…. Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

We saw this text demonstrated in the life and death of our daughter, Lucy, who died ten days ago. For her, death had lost its sting; and when she died the grave could claim no victory. By her faith in Jesus Christ, she claimed the victory of which Paul speaks in this text.

This morning I want to share our experience and her testimony with you. I have never done this before, and I feel a little uncomfortable in doing it now, but I believe that my doing so can strengthen your faith, and mine too, and bring glory to God. I want to do this for her sake, for your sake, for my sake, and for Christ’s sake.

Please bear with me. Do not be embarrassed if I choke up and shed a few tears. They are tears of gratitude for an example of holy living, and holy dying – tears of joy for the memory of a person who, through Jesus Christ, got the victory over death while she was still alive.

First, let me tell you a little about Lucy. She was an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church (USA) and for the past several years has been Professor of Preaching and Worship in Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, Georgia. She was married to Gerry Cook, had an eight-year old daughter and was 50 years old last February. About four years ago she discovered she had cancer. She had a mastectomy and then suffered through several weeks of chemotherapy, at the end of which the doctors thought they had gotten it all.

But about a year and a half ago, they discovered that the cancer had returned, had gotten into her bones, and had already begun to spread. She suffered through chemotherapy of a different kind and also tried numerous other treatments. None of them seemed to do any good. The cancer continued to spread – from her legs to her arms, to her face, and finally to her lungs and her liver.

For the past year she has lived with constant pain. The medicines that relieved her pain upset her stomach, so she lost weight and strength. In spite of weakness and pain, she insisted on teaching her classes at the Seminary. And, although quite uncomfortable most of the time, she missed very few classes the whole year. During the year she wrote two letters to friends all over the country in which she gave marvelous testimonies to her faith. After the school year ended last May, she was confined to her bed at home. Streams of friends and colleagues came to visit her. There were two or three groups in the church and the community who came regularly and prayed and sang with her. Providentially there was a young woman, Marilyn Washburn, a medical doctor and a dear friend of Lucy’s, who ministers to the Seminary community. She was an angel of mercy who ministered to Lucy, sometimes 10 and 12 hours a day and who administered the drugs for Lucy’s pain.

Two weeks ago, the whole family gathered in Decatur: her mother and I, her brother and her two sisters. Lucy was losing ground rapidly. She was aware that she was getting weaker by the day. Her mind was clear, most of the time, and she greeted family and friends. She talked, she sang, she requested favorite passages of Scripture, and she said again and again, "I’m ready to go." She sang with the groups who came, "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home," and one of her favorites, "I’ll fly away, O Glory, I’ll fly away." Wednesday night she was very weak and hurting. She said to her sister Nancy, who was sitting beside her bed, "Why doesn’t God take me home?" A few hours later she died.

This morning I want to wrestle with Lucy’s question and search for an answer. I believe in so doing we can learn something about the Christian faith.

Before we grope for an answer, let’s look closely at the question, "Why doesn’t God take me home?"

The question was not asked in anger or defiance, but humbly and quietly – submissively wondering about something she did not understand. Folks, it’s perfectly all right for a good Christian to ask the question, "Why?" Job did in the Old Testament. Jesus did on the cross. He said, "My God, why?"

Lucy’s question grew out of her firm faith in the sovereignty of God. She was a solid Calvinist who believed in God’s sovereign power and love. And she knew that she was safe in God’s hands, for she had committed herself to him. When you know you are in the loving hands of Almighty God, death can lose its sting.

Notice: she acknowledged that God was the one to do the taking. People are talking about assisted suicides. Suicide is a sin, but it is not an unforgivable sin. It can be forgiven, but we should wait until God does the taking, as Lucy did. We should not presumptuously thrust ourselves uninvited into the presence of God. When our time has come, he will call us, so we can wait.

"Why doesn’t God take me home?" Note the word "home" – "take me home." Lucy knew that heaven was her home. She knew, as the Bible says, "We are strangers and pilgrims on earth." But Lucy did not live with her head in the clouds. She ministered faithfully to those in this world who are in need. She and her husband took into their home two homeless men and gave them a home. Earth was her home for a while, but it was not her final home. Home is where you know you belong.

"Why doesn’t God take me home?" That was her question.

Now, let’s grope for an answer. We should always be cautious, even hesitant, trying to justify God’s actions for him. God is his own interpreter, and in faith we should wait for him to make clear what he is doing. But it helps me to search for and articulate what I know are only partial answers to questions that worry me.

"Why doesn’t God take me home?" Let’s clear the decks a little. It was not because God was not paying attention. He knew how long she had suffered. He felt her pain. Jesus wept over the pain of Mary and Martha at the loss of their brother. It was not because God had put her on hold. I get awfully frustrated when I call on the phone and get put on hold. It seems to me often that they forget about me. It was not because God was too busy to be bothered. "The very hairs of your head were numbered." It was certainly not because God was punishing her, making her suffer a little more for her sins. Jesus Christ has already paid the full penalty for all her sins. And it was not because God was trying to make up his mind whether or not he would let her into his house. Through Jesus Christ her name was written on the Lamb’s Book of Life, and she knew it. Believers have a confirmed reservation already paid for in heaven. Then, why didn’t God take his hurting child home?

The truth is we cannot fully say why God left his child to suffer in the first place. And the answer to that, I think, is: God needed somebody to witness to a generation of preachers how a Christian faces pain and death, and gains the victory through Jesus Christ. God wanted pastors and teachers who could share the experience of having seen a concrete example of holy living and holy dying.

Lucy believed that. She believed that God wanted her through her suffering to bear witness to the grace and power of Christ. That was why she insisted on teaching as long as she had strength to do it. That was why she wanted to see everyone who came to visit her, even when she was weak and in pain. She knew she had a witness to give, and she was determined to be faithful to that charge. God needed a witness, and Lucy was willing!

On Wednesday evening after she voiced the question, a number of her friends came to the house, and she greeted them all. Her niece, Anne Vosler, who loved her dearly and wanted to see her before she died, did not arrive from California until about 10 o’clock that evening. Lucy greeted her warmly. We told Anne that God had delayed Lucy’s home-going until she arrived; and Anne was grateful that he did.

"Why doesn’t God take me home?" "Because, Lucy, there are a few more persons to whom I want you to witness."

Early Thursday morning, a few hours after her niece arrived, God took Lucy home. And, in the words of John Bunyan, "When Christian passed over the river, all the trumpets sounded on the other side"; and on this side her family stood round her bed and sang the Doxology.

Lucy gave a witness which this generation very much needs – a witness which none could give except one who knew she was dying and for whom death had lost its sting. A young woman, a friend of Lucy’s, said to my wife after the funeral, "After seeing Lucy die, I’m not afraid of cancer anymore." That is exactly what God intended! And that is what Lucy hoped for. She showed her friends, her students and all the rest of us that with Christ one can face pain and death unafraid because death has no more terror. One night, Lucy roused from sleep and said in a clear voice, "Wow! Look at that!" Was she viewing the New Jerusalem? Who knows? But we do know that for her death had lost its sting.

That kind of witness by one her age is sorely needed today, because many Americans, we could say most Americans, have never learned to deal with death and suffering and the "tragic element" of life. Lucy did – by faith in Jesus Christ. She showed to all who came in contact with her during the last year of her life how a Christian deals with the "tragic element" of life. She wrestled with pain and death and by her faith got the victory over them both. For her the fear of death was gone, the power of death was broken. Dark Death could shrivel her body, but it could not touch her soul, for her soul was safe in the hands of her loving heavenly father. Seen thus, Lucy’s death was not the tragedy of a life cut off in its prime, but a glorious witness by one at the zenith of her career to the grace and power of God.

Now, let me remind you that that is your task, too, and mine: to witness to the grace and power of God in our lives. That obligation has been laid upon every Christian. Jesus’ last words to his disciples were, "Ye shall be witnesses unto me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria (in Goochland and in Richmond and in the United States) and unto the uttermost part of the earth." And we do that by holy living and holy dying. I pray that God will spare you the pain and suffering that he gave to Lucy, but the same task is yours and mine. God grant that we shall be as faithful as Lucy was in discharging it.

May God enable each one of us to say with Paul, "Death is swallowed up in victory. O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave where is thy victory? Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!"

Amen! Hallelujah!

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