Until We Meet Again, My Brother

Grace to you and peace from God the Father and from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Everyone who knew J.C. has a J.C. story. Of the several that I have collected in the past seven and a half years, I will begin with the first one: the day I met him. My wife and I were moving from Seguin, TX out to Cat Spring. Seguin is no major metropolis, but when you compare it to Cat Spring, well, let’s just say there were more people and houses in my former neighborhood than there were in the entire town. My wife really didn’t know what to expect after having grown up in San Antonio. Moving to the country was just a little outside her frame of reference. She didn’t know what to expect. Luckily, I half-way did.

One of the first people we met upon arrival to Cat Spring was J.C. He was on council serving as property chair, and he was offering his services to help us move in. It was a non-typical July day in 2004. When I mean non-typical, I mean that it was actually threatening rain as we moved all our stuff in the house. J.C. was wearing his overalls with no undershirt, and he was dripping sweat as we carried box after box after box. At one point, J.C. stopped me, this giant of a man looked down at me and said, "Preacher, let me tell you something about the sacrifice I’m making today. You see, I have a cutting of hay laying in the field right now, and it looks like it’s going to get rained on."

Without hesitation, I patted him on the shoulder and replied, "Don’t worry, the Lord will reward you greatly in heaven."

I really think that was the last thing he expected to hear from this young whippersnapper. He stood in silence for a second or two before erupting in laughter. He and I then proceeded to continue hauling in boxes and whatever else we had packed in that moving van, and in that moment I knew my family had arrived in a place where we could call home. J.C. helped personify the community: serious about his work, serious about helping out when a hand was needed, serious about his Church, and ready to laugh at the drop of a hat–even when it meant having the tables turned when he was trying to pull the new preacher’s leg.

It may have been the first time we laughed together, but it certainly wasn’t the last. I thought really hard about including in the readings for today Genesis chapter 3 verses 14-15. This text is right in the middle of the Fall story after Man and Woman ate the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. The Lord is talking to the serpent, and He speaks these words, "14The Lord God said to the serpent, "Because you have done this, cursed are you among all animals and among all wild creatures; upon your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life. 15I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will strike your head, and you will strike his heel."

I don’t know exactly how J.C. managed it, but in the time I knew him, he managed to get snake bit three times. I don’t know what this seeming attraction between him and copperheads was, but it was a real head scratcher. After the second time he got bit, he came to church. Following the service, I told him, "I’ve seen the shoes you wear up here to work in. I think they’re part of the problem with you getting snake bit. I decided to take up a collection this morning to get you a decent pair of boots to protect your feet. Unfortunately, I was only able to get one dollar and three cents, and I threw in the dollar."

J.C. promised to get me back for that one. But you know something, I don’t know if the devil was after him or what with those snake bites. Because, even when J.C. managed to spot a snake and kill it once, his dog, who is an absolute snake-killing dog, discovered the decapitated head, shook it around, threw it, and it landed on J.C.’s foot and bit him. Yes, my friends. It seemed J.C. couldn’t win for losing at such a thing, but he always managed to bounce back.

J.C. seemed indomitable to me. He seemed larger than life, and in some ways he truly was. When I heard that he had prostate cancer, I was positive he’d beat it. Most men do. He first started taking drugs, and they seemed to help, and I wasn’t worried. Then the cancer moved into his bones. It caused him much pain, but he received radiation. It seemed to help, and I figured he’d come out of it. Nothing ever seemed to get him down. But it didn’t happen. He continued his spiral downward. He knew it. And I don’t think it was easy for him.

Christmas Eve was the last time J.C. was able to come to church. He sat in his wheelchair about five rows from the front. The rest of his family was with him. I found out earlier this week that throughout most of the service, they were arguing and worrying about J.C. going up to communion. They worried that he didn’t have the strength to walk up there, and they tried to convince him to wait and let me bring communion to him. J.C. even handed his cane to Glenda acting as if she needed it more than him.

But J.C. had pulled a fast one on all of them. Unbeknownst to them, I had greeted him before the service started. He asked me to bring him communion when the time came for it in the service, and rather than let anyone else know, he decided to play along with them one more time. We laughed at this together as we talked about it.

But I also remember J.C.’s demeanor when he asked me to bring him communion. He got tears in his eyes when he asked. He wanted to go up by himself on his own power, but he knew he just couldn’t any longer. Roughly two weeks ago, I visited with him and Glenda in their home, and he remarked, "I used to always bounce back, but I’m not able to this time."

As big a heart and as big a man as J.C. was, he finally came upon something he couldn’t overcome. It’s the same thing we all eventually run into in the midst of our lives: the brokenness of our world. As much good as there is in this world, it’s not perfect. It’s still warped, and we can’t fix it. We see how broken it is in snake bites and in cancer and ultimately in death. It might not be to fashionable to talk about such things as the result of sin in this day and age, but that’s exactly what they are. And no matter how hard we might try to fix sin, we just can’t do it. We can’t eradicate cancer. Even if a snake it killed, it can still bite. And no one, and I mean no one can escape death. This news is not so good for us. In fact, it would be terrifying if it were the end of the story. But thankfully, it’s not.

St. Paul left these words for us as he wrote to the church in Rome, "8But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. 9Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. 10For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. 11But more than that, we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation."

Paul announces the good news that through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, we have been reconciled unto God. When we could not defeat sin and death; when we could not overcome the brokenness of this world; Jesus faced that brokenness, was killed by that brokenness, and then was raised to new life to defeat that brokenness and give hope to all who believed in His name. And what is that hope?

Just this, as Jesus said in the reading from the book of John: He is goes to prepare a place for us so that where He is, we will be also. J.C. now shares this hope. J.C. is now with Jesus in one of those rooms especially prepared for him. This is the promise which we cling to today–a promise that even in the midst of our grief gives us hope. For we too share in that promise. We too have a place prepared for us. We too will one day go to be with Jesus to be reunited with J.C. and all those who have gone before. And then, perhaps, we will get to see just what kind of reward J.C. got when his hay got rained on because he was welcoming his new preacher to his new home.