The Final Command

Dr. D. James Kennedy has made an interesting comparison. For many centuries, he begins, the men and women in Europe stood at the threshold of the western sea (the Atlantic Ocean) and looked out… what they saw was the sun shimmering upon the splendid surface of the waters and they wondered. They wondered if there was anything beyond. Medieval scholars said that you could sail off the edge of the world… that there was nothing out there at all. In fact, inscribed on the coat of arms of the nation of Spain was its national motto, Ne Plus Ultra, meaning, “There is nothing beyond.”

            One day Columbus went wandering west on the shiny waters. He sailed off into the sunset as people waited expectantly, and finally after a long time the sails reappeared and the crowds were jubilant. They shouted with joy, and Columbus announced that there was a land beyond the sea that was rich beyond their dreams. It was a glorious paradise. The king of Spain changed the motto of that land to what it reads today, Plus Ultra, meaning, “There is more beyond.”

            For many centuries innumerable people stood beside the dark hole that we call a grave and watched the remains of their loved ones lowered into the earth, and they wondered: Beyond the dark waters of death, is there anything beyond?

            Then one day, a young explorer journeyed into the setting sun and descended into the blackness of that pit. He sailed off the edge of the world and crashed into hell. People waited expectantly. Waiting and watching. Finally on this Resurrection morning, as the sun arose in the east, the Son of God stepped forth from a grave and declared, “There is something beyond. There is a paradise beyond your greatest expectations. And there awaits a heavenly Father, waiting with outstretched arms to wipe away every tear.”

            There is- for lack of a better term- a tension that can exist between the joys of this earth and the indescribable bliss of Paradise. There is a tension because we have only one point of reference. Here. Earth. Life. We know what’s good. We know what’s not good. We love and enjoy those moments of earthly pleasure, no matter how magnificent or miniscule they may be. Confirmation. Graduation. Marriage. The lifelong faithful love of a spouse. Holding your baby. Even your first Little League homerun. These are the things we hang on to. These are the things we, perhaps, are afraid to let go… or give up.

            And so when we stand at the threshold of the grave… or when we are somehow positioned closer to letting go… that tension rises. For as difficult and painful as life here can be, it is also filled with great joy. Most of us tend to avoid that position if we can.

            Others, however, choose to move. There are those who can understand a bigger picture. There are those who understand that many of the joys we possess, many of our earthly glories come not by chance, but by choice. And those choices move them toward defending, or fighting, or even dying for a purpose greater than their very self. Those choices move them closer to that tension which leads the individual toward thee most selfless moment: That the soldier, or the missionary, or the freedom-fighter is willing to lay down his life, his earthly joys for something or someone greater than he or she. And where the human being comes to that point in understanding that there is something or someone greater than me, then there is love. Jesus said, “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” (Jn 15:13).

            Today, we give thanks. Today we remember those who came to that point between this life and the next, and willingly laid down this life. Today we celebrate the brave lineage of Americans who fought for a freedom that was worth dying for… that has not been in vain. For many freedoms and privileges and opportunities. For the chance to live. For a land of liberty. For the pursuit of happiness. But for us today, we commemorate those who saw in America a place to worship freely. A place to call upon the name of the Lord… the God in whom we trust.

            But in staking that claim, lives have been lost. Not just dead and buried. But lost. Literally. And families are left behind to only wonder where at the bottom of the sea their father may be. Or where in the jungle… or the desert their husband was covered over. Or which foxhole was plowed over or destroyed. They’re left with folded flags and pictures, but also with the haunting indignity of not knowing when, or how, or where… or even sometimes… if.

            Lines of white crosses at national cemeteries give testimony to courage, bravery, patriotism, and love. But sown in the ground or the waters of this earth are those who were laid to rest with no fanfare or grave marker or churchly blessing.

            Former Secretary of State Colin Powell was asked a few years back by former Archbishop of Canterbury, George Carey, about the US role in deadly military action overseas. He wondered if the US could choose to solve the world’s problems by building trust and appealing to humanity’s sensibilities rather than military might.

            Powell response has been one of my absolute favorites: “We have gone forth from our shores repeatedly over the last hundred years… and put wonderful young men and women at risk, many of whom have lost their lives, and we have asked for nothing except enough ground to bury them in.”

            These are they, people of God, who stand knee deep in the great tribulation. And these are they for whom we praise our God. Those who lost their lives. And those who were just… lost.

            Jesus, in John, chapter five, gives these words of hope for those who have been lost, and for those who’ve faced the dark shore of the grave: “A time is coming when all who are in their graves will hear his voice and come out.”

            No matter where they are. No matter how lost.

            Jesus blazed that trail. And neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

            Because Jesus knows.