In the Will

Romans 8:17a, 1 John 3:1-2

August 24, 1997

by Dave Wilkinson

This is a nice day. Let's talk about death.

The fear of death is very real. However, some people have denied it -- at least officially.

In the last chapter of his memoirs, A Traveler in Romance, novelist Somerset Maugham wrote: "There are moments when I have so palpitating an eagerness for death that I could fly to it as to the arms of a lover -- I am drunk with the thought of it. It seems to me to offer the final and absolute freedom. There are indeed days when I feel that I have done everything too often, known too many people, read too many books, seen too many pictures, statues, churches and fine houses, and listened to too much great music. I neither believe in immortality nor desire it. I should like to die quietly and painlessly, and I am content to be assured that with my last breath my soul, with its aspirations and its weaknesses, will dissolve into nothingness."

That was Maugham's official, self-conscious version. But how did he really die?

Shortly before Maugham died at ninety one, he was visited by his nephew Robin Maugham. Robin’s visit took place at his famous uncle's Mediterranean home. Robin writes: "The following afternoon, I found Willie reclining on a sofa, peering through his spectacles at a Bible which had very large print. He looked horribly wizened, and his face was grim. "I've been reading the Bible you gave me -- and I've come across the quotation: ‘What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world and lose his own soul?' I must tell you, my dear Robin, that the text used to hang opposite my bed when I was a child. Of course, it’s all a lot of bunk. But the thought is quite interesting all the same.'"

That evening, in the drawing room after dinner, Willie flung himself down onto the sofa. 'Oh, Robin, I'm so tired...' He gave a gulp and buried his head in his hands. Willie looked up and his grip tightened on my hands . He was staring toward the floor. His face was contorted with fear, and he was trembling violently. Willie's face was ashen as he stared in horror ahead of him. Suddenly, he began to shriek. "Go away! I'm not ready. I'm not dead yet. I'm not dead yet, I tell you!" His high-pitched terror-struck voice seemed to echo from wall to wall. I looked round, but the room was empty as before."

So much for an "eagerness for death."

The fear of death is real and universal. In Bertrand Russell's words, "brief and powerless is man's life; on him and all his race the slow, sure doom fails pitiless and dark." Writer Mike Macon suggests that "all our lives are like the unfolding of a murder mystery in which we ourselves turn out to be the victim."

There are many reasons to fear death.

There is the fear of pain (though most deaths are, medically speaking, not that painful). There is the fear of separation from what we know and from the ones we love. There is the fear of the unknown. There is the fear of non-being. There is also the fear of everlasting punishment.

Except for the possibility of physical pain, and the sadness at temporary separation from our loved ones, Christians are not to fear death. Christians are not to fear death. We are not fear the big death. And we are also not to fear the small deaths that can poison our lives -- the small deaths that are the foreshadowings of the finale.

Chicago Tribune columnist Bob Green describes these small deaths in his book, The 50 Year Dash: "At fifty you begin to come to terms with the fact that we're all just passing through. On the largest levels, for example, you're pretty sure that you are never going to end up on the side of Mount Rushmore. That possibility you can with some confidence discard.

"But, two years after you retire, will you be remembered at your office? Will they ever talk about you -- will your name come up in conversation? It's something you have no control over, and you accept that. Yet not being able to do anything about it doesn't mean you have to like it."

Green writes: "When you were a kid in school, you and your friends may have painted your initials on the railroad overpass in your town. It was your first attempt to try to assure yourself a lasting presence in a place that mattered to you. But when you came home from college for vacation your freshman year, some other group of kids had painted their initials over yours. It's the way of the world. And at 50, you are aware that whatever lasting presence you are trying to forge someone will soon enough come along with their own can of paint."

With these words, Green describes the small deaths the foreshadow the big event. Unless you’re 18 and think you’re going to live forever, you know what he’s talking about.

Do you remember the song by Peggy Lee, "Is That All There Is?’ It’s a song about a woman who experiences the high and low moments of life and, after each one, says to herself, "Is that all there is?"

It’s kind of a whiny song. I’m glad Mark didn’t sing it for special music. But we can share the question. Nothing in this world quite seems to measure up to what we sense it ought to be.

It is not strange and it’s not wrong to feel that this world is temporary and unfulfilling because it is. C.S. Lewis observed in Mere Christianity "if I find myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." There is another world -- a world for which you, as a Christian, have been claimed.

You have been made for another world. So even if you are sometimes frustrated and unfulfilled, you don't have to get whiny. You also don’t have to have a mid-life crisis because, as a Christian you don't have a mid-life. Eternity has no midpoint. You have a great future. Paul writes in Philippians 3:20 that "our true citizenship is in heaven." In our text from Romans he assures us that we are "heirs of God and co-heirs with Jesus Christ.

Paul writes in Romans 8:15 and 16 that through the indwelling Holy Spirit, God confirms our place in His family. By that confirmation he gives us confidence even in the face of death.

We are children of God. Our significance does not come from having our names on the railroad overpass or on a plaque on an office wall. Our roots are a lot deeper and a lot more permanent than that. We are "heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ."

What does it mean for us to be "heirs of God?" How rich does that make us?

Let's try to put this in human terms by looking at different levels of wealth.

Let's say first that you were the only heir of Michael Jordan. He has money!

Michael Jordan makes over $300,000 a game: $10,000 a minute, assuming he averages about 30 minutes per game. Assuming $40 million in endorsements next year, he'll make $178,100 a day! Assuming he sleeps 7 hours a night, he makes $52,000 every night. If he goes to see a movie, it costs him $7.00, but he'll make $18,555 while he's there. If he decides to have a 5 minute egg, he makes $618 while boiling it. If he wants to save up for a new Acura NSX at $90,000, it would take him a whole 12 hours.

Assuming he puts the Federal maximum of $15% of his income into his tax deferred 401K account, he will hit the Federal cap of $9500 for such accounts at 8:30 a.m. on January 1st, 1998. Next year, he'll make more than twice as much as all of our past presidents for all of their terms combined.

That’s rich isn’t it. Imagine being his only heir.

But there’s rich and then there’s richer.

Jordan would have to save 100% of his income for 270 years to have a net worth equivalent to that of Bill Gates.

So now say you are a poor orphan child on the street. You’re kicked around. But then, one afternoon, Bill Gates drives by in his BMW and sees you there. For some reason, he adopts you and makes you the heir to the Microsoft Empire.

What would that mean to you? Maybe not a whole lot at first. You would be conditioned by your own past. As you were escorted for the first time into stately Gates Manor, you might not have any concept at all of what has happened to you -- who you really are. A servant might cause you to cringe in a corner for fear that he was going to throw you out.

But once you began to realize your new role, you would know that you no longer had to be afraid. You would gradually begin to assume the dignity, authority and responsibility that belong to one who is the heir to the empire.

It makes a difference how you view yourself. How do you see yourself as a Christian? Are you God's probationary employee or the boss’ daughter or son?

Paul says you can have confidence because you are God’s daughter or son through Jesus Christ. You are a child and heir of the most high God. Did you know that God is even richer than Bill Gates. That’s amazing but true. And God wants to give to us out of His abundance. In the words of 1 Corinthians 2:9: "Eye has not seen and ear has not heard, neither has entered into the human heart, all that God has prepared for those who love Him."

There are some things, however, we need to know about our inheritance. We don’t get the whole thing right away. Scripture says that it is laid up for us in heaven -- that is, in the future. This should be almost self-evident. But it is important to point out anyway because of a kind of teaching that is rampant in the church today.

This teaching says, 'Jesus died to give you abundant life now, and this means that He has promised to provide all you either need or want." "I don’t just tell God what kind of car I want," says Tammy Bakker. "I also tell Him the color." "If you are in trouble, he will solve your troubles. If you are unhappy, he will make you happy. If you are discouraged, he will lift you up and give you a joyful and unquenchable heart song. Whatever your needs or desires may be, Jesus is the provision for those needs.

This teaching is sometimes called a "health and wealth" gospel. Some people have nicknamed it: . "Name it and claim it or "grab it and blab it." I call it Janis Joplin theology -- "O Lord, won’t you buy be a Mercedes Benz."

This so called gospel forgets that Jesus' call to discipleship in Luke 9:23 says: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." This is why, in our text, Paul follows his statement that "if we are God's children, we are also God’s heirs and fellow heirs with Christ" with the sober words: "if indeed we share in his sufferings." We will deal this statement and the issue of suffering in great detail beginning next week.

True Christianity is honest. It does not deny that there are very important promises for this life -- promises that God will be with us in trouble, provide an inner peace in turmoil, minister comfort when we are distressed, and never leave us. But the basic idea is not that we will escape trouble here but rather be given grace to go through it. We are heirs. But the blessings of our inheritance are almost entirely reserved for us in heaven. We’re not home yet. But we will be.

The Bible gives a lot of different but complementary images of our heavenly inheritance. We are promised a heavenly home. We are promised a heavenly banquet. We have a foretaste of this banquet in our observance of the Lord's Supper. The Lord’s Supper looks back at the crucifixion. But it also points us forward to the coming great marriage supper of the Lamb.

We are told that another feature of our inheritance is that we will rule with Jesus in His Kingdom. Important authority is promised us. Paul told Timothy, "if we endure, we will also reign with Him." In one of his parables, Jesus spoke of servants who had shown their faithfulness during their master's absence being awarded cities over which to reign in the master's kingdom.

One promised blessings is that we will be made like Jesus himself. John writes about this in is first letter, using language similar to Paul's in Romans 8. "Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not been made known. But we know that when He appears, we will be like Him, for we will see him as He is." It is hard to imagine a greater inheritance than to be made like the Lord Jesus Christ.

But above all these, we are told that we will have God Himself in a direct intimacy of relationship.

You know people get all mixed up about the idea of wanting heaven. They think that it's a wrong motive for life -- that’s it’s self-serving. They are afraid that the promise of heaven might cause people to act like Susan Matice's dogs.

Susan Matice attended a dog training workshop where the instructor noted that a dog's disposition can be tested by the owner. The owner falls down and pretends to be hurt. A dog with a bad temper will tend to bite. But a good dog will show concern and may lick the fallen owner's face.

Matice decided to test her two dogs. While eating pizza in her living room, she stood up, clutched her heart, screamed and fell to the floor. Her two dogs looked at her, looked at each other, then raced to the coffee table for her pizza.

People are afraid of acting like these dogs. They are afraid that they might use God to get the goodies. CS. Lewis observes in The Problem of Pain: . "We are afraid that heaven is a bribe, and that if we make it our goal we shall no longer be disinterested." But "it is not so" Lewis continues. "Heaven offers nothing that a mercenary soul can desire. It is safe to tell the pure in heart that they shall see God, for only the pure in heart want to."

God gives us heaven because that is where He is and He is what we need. That, above all, is what we need. For only God is finally able to meet our deepest needs.

A Christian writer from India named Ravi Zaccharias writes: "Imagine yourself unfolding a tale with all the appropriate emotion and gestures to three young children.

"To my Sarah, age 7, I say, "little Tommy got up, walked up to the door, and opened the door. Suddenly a dragon jumped in front of Tommy." Sarah's eyes get wide, remaining transfixed, until I assure her that Tommy whipped the dragon.

"Next, I narrate the same story to Naomi at age four. I say, "Nimmi, little Tommy got up and walked up to the door, and (with my voice hushed and the words spoken slowly and deliberately)... Tommy... opened... the... door!" Naomi's eyes widen as she tingles with the anticipation of what lies behind the door.

"Now I am telling the story to Nathan at age one. You have to remember that his whole-world view is exhausted by one word -- "cookie." I say "Nate, little Tommy got up and ... walked... up... to... the... door." Nathan's eyes are ready by this point to tear through his pudgy cheeks.

"Do you understand what is happening here? At age seven, Sarah needed the dragon to evoke wonder. At age four the mere gesture of slowly opening the door struck that chord for Naomi. And for Nathan at age one it was a pretty big deal just to walk up to the door."

Zaccharias concludes: "I say to you with emphasis that the older you get, the more it takes to fill your heart with wonder. Only God is big enough to finally do that. Not only is He big enough, but in Christian terms He is also near enough.

Only God is big enough to meet your deepest needs. And God will give you His fulfillment -- whether we face the big death or are grappling with the smaller deaths -- the frustration of dreams -- that come from the temporary nature of this world. This isn’t all there is. We have a great hope. We are joint heirs. It is all ours. Everything we need for life and godliness is ours. Every promise of God, the Bible says, "is yes and amen in Christ Jesus."

In Jesus the future is wide open. For we are in the will.