Hope Is Present

My original plan was to blog today about last Sunday's message. It would have been on fear. But something has been working on me for the last couple of weeks and some times you just have to let it out. I realized it last night at our Staff Parish Relations Committee meeting. Marty Layman is a member of our group, I knew that today was a special day in his family's life, but I knew I would come completely unglued if I said or did anything. [I've already made three trips to the rest room to get tissue this morning writing this first paragraph]. Today is the birthday of Garrett Lee Layman. He would have been one today. I don't really know what I want to say. First Farragut Church is marking this time by announcing the Garrett Lee Layman Memorial Scholarship for TAKE-OFF (our parent's day out school). This Sunday our congregation will have an opportunity to give a gift to this fund that will make possible scholarships for TAKE-OFF. It is a living legacy. Gincy and I will be giving a gift to this fund. The Layman Family is very involved with The March of Dimes. Holly has a page where you can support her by walking or giving a gift (http://www.marchforbabies.org/personal_page.asp?pp=3438401&ct=4&w=4535160&u=hlayman). What to say? I really didn't know what to say, so I went back to what I shared at Garrett's Celebration of Life Service. So Here's the Bit.

BIT: It was proud big sister Olivia who said what we all were thinking – gathered there in that small room off of the NICU at East Tennessee Children’s Hospital. Upon hearing about the death of her little brother, Garrett, from her mom and dad – in the midst of her grief she said it – “This is the worst day ever.”

Sunday had been a great day – Easter Sunday. Olivia was out on Main Street at First Farragut Church clutching the picture of her little brother Garrett. We had all experienced the hope and joy of Easter – the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We had the single red rose on the altar rail celebrating the birth of Garrett Lee Laymon that week. I’d preached a sermon on the empty promises of Easter – an empty cross, the promise that our sins are forgiven – an empty tomb, the promise of eternal life – empty burial clothes, the promise of a close personal relationship with our living Savior, Jesus Christ. It was a glorious day filled with promise.

Only two days later – Tuesday -- we were filled with profound emptiness. It was what we had been praying for weeks would not happen. And it happened … so quickly … right in the midst of our hope and promise.

What do you say? My experience tells me that there is no loss so striking, so numbing, so tragic, so full of grief, as the loss of a child. Any loss is tragic for those left behind. But the loss of a child seems to have its own extraordinary kind of tragedy. Our minds naturally want to race ahead into the promise of life – what precious Olivia did after declaring that Tuesday was the worst day ever – a litany of all the things little Garret and she would never do together, each accented with her grief. This worst day ever, will forever be etched into my mind.

Yes, the death of a child has its own kind of tragedy. Our children are supposed to bury us, as their elderly parents. Our children are supposed to outlive us. Our children are supposed to carry on our family name, our family traditions, our family memories. At least that’s how I would plan it. And my words, just like on Tuesday, seem so empty.

What we lack in words – we make up for in presence. Words aren’t going to be able to begin healing your pain – but presence will. Paul says it this way, “I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

It is God’s presence that makes my spirit say to you, I’m convinced that this is not God’s will. God does not will suffering and sorrow and death. God wills the abundant life. The truth is -- God mourns with us. God knows our sense of loss, our sense of sorrow, our sense of grief. On Tuesday -- the worst day ever -- after Resurrection Sunday and because of Resurrection Sunday, Jesus with tears in his eyes, because he knew the pain that death brings to those left behind – especially because it was someone so special -- received little Garrett saying, “little child, come to me, the kingdom of God belongs to you.”

It is presence here tonight that tells my spirit that miracle baby Garrett, had an impact, even in only 8 days.

It is presence here tonight that tells my spirit that Marty & Holly and Olivia are in good hands. Yes, their burden is enormous – greater than any I can imagine. But I also know that many of you are a part of the Body of Christ at First Farragut Church. I know that presence is going to take care of you. First Farragut is a place of Christian love and care and fellowship – the communion of saints, the body of believers at First Farragut reaches out to you to be with you, to stand with you, to pray for you, to cry with you, that we may together express our hope in a risen Savior.

Many of you are friends and family who have experienced the love and grace of God many times. I know your presence surrounds and upholds Marty and Holly with the peace of God.

Your presence, the Body of Christ’s presence, God’s eternal presence embraces us. An infinte God grieves with us. This parent God lifts this little Garrett from the fragile embrace of death and gives him new life in an eternal realm. And so, people of God, gather around this miracle. That even on the worst day ever, God’s presence, the Church’s presence, the loving ones presence – brought the Easter Resurrection Promise to fulfillment – That in the midst of the worst day ever – death – hope was present. Hope is present.

BITTER: Happy Birthday, Garrett!