A sermon preached in the wake of the death of HM the Queen. It's based on 2 Corinthians 4.16-5.4 and John 6.35-40. As a society we’re not the best at talking about death are we. We prefer not to think about it, and when it comes close, when a loved one dies, we often try to push on and not really deal with it. But now we, the whole country, and many other parts of the world have found ourselves staring death in the face with the death of HM the Queen. We have wall to wall news coverage, outpourings of both affection and grief across the nation. There are some who knew they’d be sad when this day came, some who are surprised at the wave of emotions they’re feeling, and others for whom this doesn’t really affect them, and still others for whom this has brought back the emotions of recent or longer term losses. But in loss and death we are left with three things. The first of which are memories. Perhaps you’ve met the Queen at some point, or perhaps your memories of her are from the news and wider media. She also pervades our national life in a way like no other, her image on coins and bank notes and stamps. We all have some form of memory associated with her. And over recent days many have been paying tribute to her by sharing memories of her. Here’s one of the favourites I read, retold by one of her former protection officers from when she was out having a picnic near Balmoral. Two Americans on a walking holiday stopped to chat, not recognising her. One of the tourists starts recounting their trip around the UK and then enquires where she lives, to which she responds London, but that she has a holiday home just over the hill. He then enquires how often she visits ‘Oh, since I was a little girl, so over 80 years’. To which he responds, knowing Balmoral is nearby, that she must have therefore met the Queen. ‘Well I haven’t’ she replies ‘but Dick here meets her regularly’. Excited the tourist then asks him what she’s like. Well, having been with her a long time Dick decides to have some fun in return ‘oh she can be very cantankerous at times, but she’s got a lovely sense of humour’. Well before he knew what was happening the tourist has put his arm over his shoulder, passed a camera to the Queen and asked her to take a picture of them which she did. They then swapped and these tourists got a photo with her. And as they’re walking off down the hill the Queen turns to him ‘I’d love to be a fly on the wall when he shows those pictures to friends in America and hopefully someone tells him who I am’. Memories like these of departed loved ones are wonderful things, things we treasure and share, and when we share memories with others who knew and loved them too they join us in that remembering as they recognise the person we both knew. And these memories of the Queen remind us that behind the crown and the pageantry, the titles and the status was a woman, a human being who was a daughter, a wife, a mother and a grandmother. That like all of us she was fearfully and wonderfully made in God’s image and did her best with the time she was given. Whatever our views on her as Queen, on the system of monarchy etc, the person our nation mourns was a human being who sought to serve as best as she could, who found duty laid at her door and took it up for 70 years. And one of the prevailing phrases I’ve kept hearing from many sources, political figures and others is in reference to that long reign, that she was a rock, a fixed point in a rapidly changing world, a point of stability, an anchor, a constant through thick and thin. So much so that many assumed she’d go on doing that forever. And as I was re-reading some of her Christmas messages over the years I spotted some of those same phrases again, bedrock, anchor. Except in these messages she wasn’t talking about herself, she was talking about Jesus. For her, the anchor and bedrock of her life was her Christian faith, her love and trust in Jesus. As she became the bedrock for the nation she knew there was no better place on which to place herself than upon the firm rock of faith in him. In our grief, in our sorrow, whether for her or for others we have loved yet see no longer, we find Jesus drawing near. God not stood far off but with us in the darkest valley. In Jesus we find the God who doesn’t tout his status, doesn’t go around telling everyone, from Pharisees to tourists out for a walk who he is, but empties himself of all status and privilege in order to serve us, to join us in the mess and walk with us through it all. Our sin, our rebellion separated us from him. And yet the King of the Universe, whilst being a King of justice and righteousness, is also one of mercy and forgiveness. He chooses not to punish us as we deserve, but instead to step down from the throne and take our place, to bear our punishment. He does not give us according to our works, instead he gives according to his abundant grace and generosity. As he says in our Gospel reading, all who look to him, who believe in him, who turn from their sin and trust in his name, find life both now and in the world to come. In Jesus we see the God who serves, who chooses mercy and forgiveness, despite the cost. In HM the Queen we saw a shadow of his reign, of what the King of the Universe is like, loving, caring, servant hearted, found amongst his people rather than hidden away. In her life we see echoes of Jesus, and so we can learn from her what it means to follow Jesus too. She wasn’t perfect, none of us are, and yet in the words of St Paul ‘follow my example, as I follow Jesus’ example’. In the face of death we find God drawing near, in the person of Jesus he offers both comfort and hope. And it’s that hope which brings me to the final thing we have in these days. Eternal, secure and lasting hope. As we heard in our second reading we are to fix our eyes not on this world, not on the things which are transient, the things which will one day pass away. Instead we are to fix our eyes on what is eternal, lasting and secure. For whilst in this life we face many troubles, many challenges, many struggles, in Jesus we know that all this is passing away, and that what is to come is perfect, eternal and joyous. Through faith in Jesus we have the firm hope that death and sin and pain do not have the last word, through his death we have been brought back to God, and in his rising to life again we are assured that we will be raised with him, that we will one day see God face to face. If we have looked to him, if we have placed our trust in him he will not let us go, he will take us by the hand and walk with us through life, through death, and into eternity, his hand will not slip, even though we fear ours might, he will hold us fast. Our hope isn’t that it will all work out somehow in the end, it isn’t a desperate hope flung out into a silent and uncaring universe. Our hope is in a person, in Jesus, the one who we find time and time again to be trustworthy and true. Our hope isn’t that we’ll find our own way to everlasting life somehow, it’s that he is leading us there. As our nation goes through this time of mourning, as many feel like the rock and anchor of this nation has been removed at the precise moment we needed it most, let us learn from her Majesty where the true foundation, rock and anchor always lay. Not on human shoulders but upon the cross of Jesus. As we mourn her loss let us learn from her example of patience, humility, service and love, as she learnt those things from her Saviour. And let us hold fast to the hope we have, the hope we have in Jesus who holds us tightly. For this life is merely the beginning, the best is yet to come. In the words of CS Lewis at the end of the Narnia series when we discover the characters have died ‘for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.’ For us death is not the end, it is only the beginning, the best is yet to come. Amen.
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AuthorAn Anglican Curate in my 20's I was raised in an Anglican Church, went to a Youth Club run by an Evangelical Church, attended a Baptist Church while at Uni and was a member of a New Monastic Community after graduating. As such my faith has been influenced by these experiences and traditions into what I hope is a more rounded viewpoint. Archives
September 2022
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