I Can Endure, Will Scotten, Class of 2006, Youth Sunday, Easter V--Year B--May 14, 2006

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Missing the shot right at the buzzer in the championship game.  Getting a bad grade on that test you thought you aced.  Getting grounded.  These are typical problems that plague the lives of teenagers.  For me, I thought it was the end of the world when I lost my cell phone.  We as teenagers today are burdened with problems all the time.

But above the ordinary problems that teenagers face everyday, some people also wrestle with deeper problems.  Finding somewhere to stay when we have no home, no supports, no resources.  Scrounging up enough money to buy some food.  Paying the bills when the bills outlast the money.  Although all of us may feel like we’ve been as low as we can go, there are other people who have been lower.  Imagine the wife of the employee of Anderson-Murray watching television on the morning of September 11, 2001.  Imagine living in the projects of New Orleans when the only home you’ve ever known is flooded and condemned.  Imagine sitting in the pediatric waiting room of the hospital, waiting to hear that the small lump you discovered in your child is malignant.

Citizens in Rome during 1st century AD must have felt similar feelings of despair during their day to day lives.  Imagine the life of a third son in a plebian family…. Another day.  I get up to work all day…all day with nothing to gain.  If only I could have been the son of a land owner, or even a Pharisee.  Or anyone that has land, wealth, or power.  But no...not me.  I have to be the son of a stone mason.  And not only the son of a stone mason...the THIRD son of a stone mason.  My older brother gets everything.  And even if I’d be lucky enough for him to fall from the top of that new cathedral, I still wouldn’t get anything.  My other older brother would still get everything.  No wonder I feel so mad all the time!!!  Life just isn’t fair for me.  And then, when I disrespect the Roman guards, I get flogged and thrown in jail!!!  There is no promise, for me, no hope.  My life is like a well.  Everyone else gets to drink long and deep of the refreshing cool water.  But my well….my well is big and deep.  But I’m at the bottom of it.  And my well is stark dry!!

Even in the present century, there are times when we feel like we’re at the bottom of our well.  For me and my family, our well seemed to become dry during the illness and death of my grandmother.  It was an inevitable part of life, but a part that happened sooner than I had ever expected. In order to understand why this event was so difficult for me, first, you have to understand how close and treasured our relationship was.  My mom returned to work when I was eight years old.  My grandmother picked me up from school (30 minutes early to be first in line I might add) every day and kept me until my mom got home from work.  Grandmother read to me, helped me with homework, taught me how to cook, and endlessly loved and praised me.  She was the person to whom I could take every problem and share my inner-most secrets without worry.  She was my shoulder to cry on.  As Edwin McCain said, she really was the greatest fan of my life.  Many changes in my life occurred under her care.  My family went from a “regular” family to a single-parent family, and finally, to a merged family while the love of my grandmother stayed constant.  Unknowingly, I once told my mother I would rather my mom die than my grandmother die.  It was not an insult to my mother; it was just that my grandmother had become a surrogate parent and a critical relationship in my life.

During the fall of my eighth grade year, my grandmother had a heart attack and emergency by-pass surgery.  Unbeknownst to the doctors or to her family, a small tumor was growing within her even then.  Her failure to recuperate from the heart surgery necessitated that my family and I move into her home in order to assist her with her daily activities.  After approximately one year, my mom took her to the doctor, frustrated with her lack of recovery.  A shocking diagnosis of colon cancer explained her failing health.  Due to a pervasive spread of the cancer, my grandmother chose to return home without therapy.  It was then that our most difficult journey began.

Already, my life had changed when my family decided to move in with her and help her.  But at the point of her diagnosis of cancer, her needs seemed to change on a weekly, if not daily, basis.  My energetic, jolly grandmother, who attended every soccer game, every track meet, every piano recital, every tennis match, every important event in my life, had difficulty making it through the day.  And I had to watch.  Not only did I have to watch, I had to help.  But, Paul’s letter brings hope to the first century Christian.  Paul alludes to a kingdom that is greater than the Roman Empire.  To a law requiring love rather than punishment.  For the early Christian, he must have felt like “This is something I can handle!!  I can easily love my fellow man.  And, he must love me back.  No more hierarchy of wealth and power.  No more harsh rules.  No more stringent punishment.  Only love.  And Paul’s sentiment captures this philosophy, “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.”   I may not be a Pharisee or Saducee, but I can actually have a relationship with God.”  And to those of us who seem to be at the pit of our lives, at the bottom of our parched well, Paul brings us to the realization that God and God’s love remains constant.  In this ever changing world, God’s love is permanent.

The promise of relationship – the relationship between all of God’s people as they exhibit his love and the relationship of love that God promises to us all –is refreshing to our parched souls during the difficult times in our life.  God’s love became apparent in my life during my time of great grief.  I found comfort in the support of my family and friends.  I will always feel grateful for the people who enveloped my family with their support in prayers, cards, visits, food, and gifts.  I am especially grateful to those who individually supported me during my loss.  People often forget the children around funeral times, but in my case some people wrote me individually, letting me know that they recognized my distinct loss.  I am especially grateful to two members of this congregation, Alan Gibby, who not only wrote me a personal letter about the loss of a grandparent, but who sent me a poem about loss and India Cain, who even during her own personal tragedy, took the time for a personal visit with me.  God’s love, expressed through his people, was the soothing rain that gave relief to my saddened spirit.

I still miss my grandmother, but I made it through…through the hard times of my life, like the loss of Grandmommy or the loss of my initial immediate family, I’ve learned that I can endure.  My faith in God, the loving support of my family, and the belief in my own internal strength can carry me through tough times.  Faith, love, and support can provide the refreshing rain that replenishes our dried out wells.

Amen.