“O Lord my God,  let this child’s life come into him again.”  The Lord listened to the voice of Elijah’  the life of the child came into him again,  and he revived. Elijah said “See, your son is alive.”  So the woman said to Elijah,  “Now I know that you are a man of God and that the word of the Lord in  your mouth is truth."  

   1Kings 17:21, 23b-24

Last week there was a funeral here at Hidenwood.  We expected it to be big,  but it turned out to be one of the largest crowds ever assembled in this building.  They crammed into the sanctuary,  spilt out into the narthex and down the hallways.  Many had to stand for the entire hour because we didn’t have enough chairs,  and everyone had to endure the heat because the air conditioner couldn’t keep up with a crowd of about 800.

You won’t be a surprise to you to hear that the funeral was for a teenager.  The funeral of children and youth always attract the largest crowds.  Why is that?  For one thing,  this grief seems all wrong – a reversal of the natural order of things.  The young aren’t supposed to die first.  But it’s more than that.  This grief is different – the loss of a young person is the loss of hope.  I reminded the youth who attended the funeral,  many of the hopes and dreams of their parents are wrapped up in them.  Parents dream of their children graduating from highschool and going to their alma matter.  They dream of them getting the grades they never got themselves!   Parents dream of their children getting married and bearing grandchildren for them that they can spoil and then send back home.   Parents dream of  family reunions and get-togethers and watching their children in the prime of life while they sit back in their golden years and enjoy.  Many of the hopes and dreams of parents are wrapped up in their children.  But it’s even more than that.   The hopes and dreams of the community are wrapped up in the children and youth too.  We’ve seen just how true that is this spring with response to the massacre of 33 youth and young adults at Virginia Tech.    The grief and reaction to their deaths has been felt far beyond their immediate family and friends..  the entire student body felt it and held special ceremonies,  so did other schools in the state and beyond,  many churches held vigils and included the victims in prayer during services.  It has reverberated far and wide. 

The hopes and dreams of a community are stored in our children and youth.  Children and youth are, in fact hope incarnate.  Years ago I would take my infant son with me to the nursing home whenever I had to do a worship service there.  Alive or asleep, it didn’t matter, his presence never failed to get a reaction.  Elderly people who were normally unresponsive and distant would perk up and smile, become present and even animated.      Children are hope incarnate.  And none of us can live without hope.  We all need it to survive!  Hope gets us up in the morning.  Hope makes coffee perk and bacon and eggs taste good.  Hope promises that the future is good and that life and love are not in vain.  Hope is a reminder that God is still in charge.   And children incarnate that hope for us.

It was no less true in Old Testament times than it is today.  In 1 Kings 17 we read an interesting story today.  After predicting a drought, the prophet Elijah goes to a Phoenician town (Jezebel’s homeland no less) where he asks a poor widow for hospitality (food).  She had only a small handful of meal and a little oil left in her pantry,  hardly enough for a meal for herself and her son,  and yet she agreed to make a small cake of bread and bring it to Elijah.  And after doing this she went home and made up some for she and her son and lo and behold…there was enough for all three of them!  And the next day she made another cake of bread and brought it to him,  and again there was enough for all three.  This went on,  day after day until the Lord finally broke the drought and it began to rain…the jar of meal was never emptied and the jug of oil never failed. A wonderful miracle!

Now,  it would have been a happy ending had the story ended right there,  but it doesn’t.  The son of the widow becomes ill and dies soon after and she goes to Elijah and says  “What have you against me,  O man of God?  Is the meaning of your visit to remind me of my sin and to take away my only son?”  It’s a fair question I think…afterall,  she thought Elijah was sent by God to bring her hope,  not to take it away.  And as a widow,  to lose her only son was more than a tragic personal loss,  it spelled the death of her own future.   Her son was her meal ticket,  her only support for  food and lodging in old age -  there were no soup kitchens and no food stamp programs back then and women couldn’t go to work and earn a living themselves.  So this death would push her to the breaking point.  Why give me hope only to take it away again? 

There is a deeper theological question here as well – Is God the God of hope for our lives or is he the God of perversity who builds up people’s hopes only to dash them on the rocks of despair?  What kind of God does Elijah serve anyway?

    The answer is found in the second half of the story.  Elijah asks for the body of the boy and he carries him to the upper chamber of her house where he lays him down.  He says to God:   “O Lord my God,  have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I am staying,  by killing her son?”  The question is a loaded theologically and sharpens the story’s focus by calling God to show his colors.  And then Elijah pleads for his life:   “O Lord my God,  let this child’s life come to him again.”  And God  listens to Elijah prayer and revives the boy. Then Elijah gives the boy back to his mother and she says “Now I know that you are a man of God,  and that the word of the Lord in your mouth is truth.”  And these words echo the confession of God’s people after the drought is lifted from them in the next chapter.  So not only is a widow’s son spared,  and a widow’s future redeemed,  but more importantly,  God’s true identity is revealed.  Ours is a God of compassion,  who does give hope to his people.

There is a similar story to this in the New Testament involving Jesus.  In Luke chapter 7 Jesus enters the town of Nain where he encounters a funeral prossession along the road.  The deceased is the only son of a widow in that town  (sound familiar?).  Jesus says to the widow ‘Do not weep,  then he touches the man’ casket and says ‘Young man,  I say to you,  rise!”  And the dead man sat up and began to speak and Jesus gave him to his mother.  

Interesting that Luke tells this story with the Old Testament story of Elijah in mind.  In fact the words ‘he gave him to his mother’  are lifted right out of that original story.  Why does Luke do that?  To underline the theological point -  the God of hope and compassion revealed through Elijah shows that same hope and compassion in Jesus Christ.  Our God comes in Jesus Christ to bring hope and to those who are in despair.   To quote the psalmist ‘He lists the poor out of dust,  placing them among princes.’ 

    That’s the kind of God we serve.  God is not so pre-occupied with the rich and powerful that he has no time for the little and least among us.  Indeed ours is a God who gives hope to those who have no hope.  That is why the church has always had a humanitarian ministry.  That is why Hidenwood has a food closet and collects clothes for the needy,  and runs Kid’s Café and helps with PORT.   That is why we help out our sister church in the Congo,  and support missions in other countries all over the world.  It’s why we are looking to send a group from Hidenwood to New Orleans or Biloxi this fall.   And what I find interesting is that humanitarian aid is one of the most unifying things the church can do.  Whether we’re Presbyterian, Baptist,  Pentecostal or Methodist …whether we’re liberal or conservative,  traditional or contemporary -  we all seem to agree that helping those in need is a priority of the church.  And maybe the best medicine for the church when we disagree with each other on theological issues,  or any issues,  is to roll up our sleeves and go build a house together,  or work in a soup kitchen together.  Giving hope to others through such deeds seems to unite us and give hope back to the church.

    Our God is a God of hope.   Now, that does not mean that God will miraculously restore every life taken prematurely.  But the resurrection holds that hope secure in the life that is to come.  In Jesus Christ,  despair does not have the final word.  

And it is our job to bear witness to that hope in our everyday lives.  To remind people of it and share it with them in big ways and small.   Let me end with a modern day story about a widow and her son entitled ‘A Red Marble’ :
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It’s told through the eyes of a third person and takes place during the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community.  A certain gentleman had stopped at a roadside stand for farm-fresh produce.  In those days food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was not  uncommon.
The produce stand owner,  Mr. Miller was bagging some potatoes for the gentleman.  He noticed a small boy, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas.   He overheard the following conversation between Mr Miller and the boy:

"Hello Barry, how are you today?"
"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas ... sure look good."
"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"
"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."
"Good. Anything I can help you with?"
"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."
"Would you like to take some home?"
"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."
"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"
"All I got's my prize marble here."
"Is that right? Let me see it."
"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."
"I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"
"Not 'zackley .....but, almost."
"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble"
"Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller."

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to finish the sale with the gentleman.  With a smile she said: "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."

I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man.  The gentleman moved away for some years to Colorado but happened to be back in that small town in Idaho years later where he learned of Mr. Miller’s recent death.  He decided to attend the visitation at the funeral home.    Ahead of him in the lineup were three young men, one was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts ... very professional looking. 

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her and spoke briefly with her and handed her something before leaving. 

The gentleman approached Mrs. Miller and identified himself and told her the story he remembered from years ago at the produce stand.  She said  "Those three young men, who just left, were the boys I told you about. They came to tell me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last when Jim could not change his mind about color or size ... they came to pay their debt. We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho. "
With loving gentleness she lifted the hand of her beloved husband and placed underneath three, exquisitely shined, red marbles given to her by the three boys.
What had Jim Miller selling at that produce stand?  Fruit? Vegetables?  No, he was selling hope…and hope can be very expensive…sometimes it can cost as much as a single red marble.  Remember that as you go out into the world to do the same.  

Amen