Ecclesiastes 3.1-8
Everything Has Its Time
3 For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under
heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted;
3 a time to kill and a time to
heal;
a time to break down and a time to build up;
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance;
5 a time to throw away stones and a time to gather
stones together;
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 a time to seek and a time to lose;
a time to keep and a time to throw away;
7 a time to tear and a time to sew;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
8 a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace.
Our reading just now, from the Hebrew
Bible,
contains
Ron’s last words to Liz.
We had phoned him on the Thursday evening,
because
we were flying off on holiday the following morning.
Ron said that he wasn’t feeling very well,
and
so I prayed with him over the phone,
and said we’d see him next week when
we got back,
before
handing the phone over to Liz.
They chatted for a while, and as they said
goodbye,
Ron
quoted from Ecclesiastes:
‘Darling’, he said, ‘there is a time to be
born and a time to die’.
And so here we are.
Sometimes the task of the minister at a
funeral
is
to provide those who are attending
with
a summary of the person’s life:
you know the kind of thing:
where
they were born, what they did, who they loved…
In other words, sometimes it is sometimes the
task of the minister
to
talk about the person who has died.
But Ron wanted a sermon, not a tribute,
he
wanted words to be spoken about God, and not just him.
You only have to look at the way he has
told the story of his life
in
his own words on the back of the order of service,
which
he left ready for us, created in his own inimitable style,
to realise that what Ron wanted for this
occasion,
was
to point beyond himself,
to God who is made known to us in Jesus,
by the Spirit.
So on this occasion, this Minister, who is
also a son-in-law,
will
reflect for a few moments
on
what it means to live a life before God,
and
for Ron to have lived his life
in
the light of God’s love.
For everything there is a season
and
a time for every matter under heaven
Some of you will have been here with us in
this place
on
the 3rd September 2007,
when we said goodbye to Eileen, Ron’s wife
for 45 years,
after
her long battle with Alzheimer’s Disease.
And today, we gather again because Ron has
joined Eileen
in
the eternal embrace of God’s love.
All that is good in our lives,
all
the love we give, all the love we receive,
all
the grace that we embody:
all these are gathered by God and held
fast for eternity.
But all the failings of our lives,
the
good we could have done but didn’t
the
love we might have given but which we withheld,
the
grace which we denied:
all these are forgiven by God,
and
remembered no more.
Because although life is fleeting,
God
is eternal,
and God’s love and mercies endure forever.
And so…
For everything there is a season
and
a time for every matter under heaven
a time to plant
and
a time to pluck up what is planted;
Throughout our lives, we each of us sow
seeds in the world:
seeds
of love, hope, and joy.
We invest in relationships, friendships,
and children;
in
projects, hopes, and dreams.
But in this sowing, we run a risk,
because
not every seed grows to maturity,
and
not every plant grows healthy
As Jesus himself put it in John’s gospel,
speaking
about his own death:
Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of
wheat falls into the earth and dies,
it
remains just a single grain,
but if it dies it bears much fruit. (John 12.24)
Jesus knew that the promise of new life
is
always inextricably interwoven with the reality of death.
The American
author Henry Cloud writes that,
‘Endings are part of every
aspect of life.
When done well, the
seasons of life are negotiated,
and
the proper endings lead to the end of pain,
to greater growth...and to better lives.’
He concludes:
‘Endings bring hope.’
And here is a profound mystery for us,
as
we gather to contemplate the mystery of life and death:
the seeds we sow in the world,
that
fall into the ground and die,
yet
grow and bear fruit beyond our understanding.
And so…
For everything there is a season
and
a time for every matter under heaven
a time to kill and a time to heal;
a time to break down and a
time to build up;
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to
dance;
and he enjoyed serving with the RAF in Cyprus.
In fact, I always suspected that he was secretly of the opinion
that his younger son-in-law
might have benefitted from a few years of military discipline!
But this time of military service,
during which he discovered his personal relationship with God through Jesus,
was followed by a lifetime of spiritual service,
with the joys and trials of family life,
set against a dedicated involvement in his local church here at Ranelagh.
Ron and the family shared the laughter and sorrows
of being part of this church community,
rejoicing with those who rejoiced,
and weeping with those who mourned.
And it is this community aspect of church life,
that is so important to the journey of Christian discipleship.
We need one another, because we are incomplete without each other:
it is through the body of Christ
that we meet and are met by the risen Jesus.
Even in recent years,
when ill health meant Ron could not attend in person,
he threw himself into church attendance by Zoom.
Sundays were a whirlwind of online services,
with Ron even diligently catching up
on my own church’s services from London.
And so…
For everything there is a season
and a time for every matter under heaven
a time to throw away stones
and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace
and a time to refrain from embracing;
Those of us who have spent time in Felixstowe, the Suntrap of the East Coast,
will know that the beach here is one of stones, not sand.
And the stones of the Felixstowe beach continually shift with each new tide,
sometimes gathered together against the breakwaters,
sometimes thrown and scattered by the storms.
Ron loved to look out of his study window at the seafront,
and Liz has often spoken to me about how, for her,
the North Sea is an image of God: vast, unknowable, inexorable,
powerful, tantalising, and peaceful.
And within this metaphor, we are the stones,
we are gathered together, and thrown apart,
we build our lives for a time, and then the tide turns,
and all our efforts pass into memory,
and that is how it should be.
We do not build for eternity;
that is God’s prerogative.
Rather our task is to play our part
in building the kingdom of heaven in the here and now,
living as if it were true, until it is true.
And so we come to the truth that Ron knew,
which he spoke to Liz on the phone just a couple of days before he died.
And this is that for each of us, life is fleeting,
and there is a time and a season for all things.
There is a time to be born, and a time to die.
For everything there is a season
and a time for every matter under heaven.
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