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"Springs of Living Water" by Rev. Charles Hoffman

November 3, 2002 All Saints Sunday
Revelation 7:9-17

Last Sunday morning in the sermon I was telling a story and suddenly the story rose up and bit me. Somehow that story brought me to tears. It happens every once in a while. I was talking about what happened with one of my friends. It surprised him that the story got to me like that. I told him that, like everyone else, I carry some losses around with me. Those losses are always there even though I'm not always aware of it. But every so often something primes the pump and the loss comes bubbling to the surface.

Another friend was listening to the conversation. He told us about a personal loss that happened many years ago. But, he said, it's still very real. He thinks of it often.

Most of us can relate to that. Sometimes, as though out of the blue and for no apparent reason, the person we miss so profoundly is remembered. And the feeling of loss comes back in a sort of sweet sadness, a combination of fond memories and painful separation.

In fact, I think that this is a universal experience. We all "visit graves to weep for that which will never again be" Most of the time we only visit those graves figuratively. That is, we visit them in our minds and memories. We all "visit graves to weep for that which will never again be." I quote those words from a seminary professor by the name of Carson Brisson who says that not only do we visit graves to weep, but we also visit them to hope. "To hope," he says, "in a God who means to be with those who cry out." (Pulpit Digest, Sept/Oct 1992, p. 45).

And this is where we are this morning, this special day called All Saints Sunday. We come together to weep and to hope. I suppose that it's usually easier to weep than it is to hope.

Of course, our hope is grounded in the central story of the Bible, that of Christ's resurrection. We all know the litany: Life over death, light over darkness, health over sickness, love over hatred, peace over discord, and joy over sorrow. It's all bound up with the Resurrection.

But the Bible is somewhat vague about the future. It is not explicit about the future and it seems that we have to settle for hints, suggestions and visions of what lies ahead.

The Bible certainly encourages our hope. And this is the clear intention of the Revelation of John that we read earlier in the service. Take a look at John's vision. But first, remember that John is sharing his vision with his own church. He is talking to people who are somewhat confused about the future. Like you and me, these are people who weep by open graves and ask why. These are people who, like us, sometimes carry on with life with a cavernous void in their spirits.

In his vision John sees a great multitude of people, people of all races and tongues, too many to count. And they are all standing before the throne. They are dressed in white robes and they carry palm branches and they worship God.

Someone asks who these people are. And the response is that these are the ones who have died for the faith: these are they who have come out of the great tribulation. The vision focuses on those who have been martyred for the faith; but later on the vision will be enlarged to include all of God's redeemed people (see Preaching Through the Church Year A, p. 521 and also Revelation 21:1 - 22:5).

And what is it like for these martyrs and faithful servants who have died? Let the passage speak for itself, but listen to it with a poetic mind. Let your imagination flow.

"[God] who sits upon the throne will shelter them with his presence. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; the sun shall not strike them, not any scorching heat. For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water; and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes" (Revelation 7:15-17).

So that's our hope this morning: the Lord our Shepherd directing us at last to springs of living water, and wiping away the tears of a lifetime of losses.

Now here is a scene from history that touches us all in one way or another. A mother and father are at the bedside of their daughter. She is only thirteen and she is dying.

The father is kneeling in prayer, praying that God will save his beautiful daughter. But she dies in the arms of his desperate prayer.

But before she dies he asks her if she would be glad to go to heaven. "Yes, dear father," she replies, "if God wills it." Out of the mouths of babes come such wisdom and faith. And it was helpful to the father to know the depth of his daughter's faith. But he couldn't feel such confidence himself. Somehow the sense of assurance eluded him and he confessed that he was angry with himself, angry that he was unable to match his daughter's calm resignation to the will of God. Although, he did say that at times he sang a little song and thanked God that whether we live or die we are the Lord's.

Magdalene: that was the little girl's name, Magdalene Luther. Her father was Martin Luther, the great reformer of the church, the one who wished that his faith were stronger.

Of course, I know that there is some of Martin Luther in all of us on this All Saints Sunday. We struggle to believe it, to believe that whether we live or die we are the Lord's . We wish we could be more sure.

I came across something some years ago from Alan Jones, Dean of Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. Alan Jones said that in the community of faith we can believe for each other. I love that thought. I can't show you from the scriptures that it's true, but I believe it.

I believe in the church, this remarkable community that bears one another's burdens, including the burden of doubt and of inadequate faith. Or to put it more positively, we are those who exercise hope for the hopeless and faith for the skeptic.

The 18^th century Baptist preacher, John Fawcett, must have had something such as this in mind when he wrote his words about the tie that binds our hearts in Christian love. He wrote: "We share each other's woes, our mutual burdens bear; And often for each other flows the sympathizing tear."

As we approach the sacred meal today we come as a tide of hope borne on the wings of faith. And we say, "Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God for ever and ever. Amen!"