Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 12:20-33
Presented March 29, 2009, by J.D. Kline
The Fifth Sunday in Lent
Henri Nouwen includes in one of his books a story told to him by European correspondent John Fraser about John’s four-year-old daughter Jessie, who one morning found a dead sparrow in front of the living room window. Apparently the bird had flown into the glass and killed itself. Both disturbed and intrigued after discovering the bird, Jessie asked her father, “Where is the bird now?” John said that he didn’t know. Next Jessie asked, “Why did it die?” With some hesitancy John suggested, “Well, because all living things return to the earth.” “Oh,” said Jessie, “then we have to bury it.” And so a box was found, the little bird was laid in it, a paper napkin was added as a shroud, and a few minutes later a little procession was formed as Jessie, along with her parents and her baby sister, carried the box to a backyard gravesite. The bird was placed in the ground, followed by John placing a piece of moss over the grave and Jessie planting a homemade cross. Then John asked Jessie, “Do you want to say a prayer?” “Yes,” replied Jessie firmly, and after telling her baby sister in no uncertain terms to fold her hands, she prayed, “Dear God, we have buried this little sparrow. Now you be good to her or I will kill you. Amen.”
As they walked back to their home John ponders his daughter’s odd prayer, and finally he says to Jessie, “You didn’t have to threaten God.” After a moment’s thought, four-year-old Jessie answered, “I just wanted to be sure” (Seeds of Hope: A Henri Nouwen Reader, edited by Robert Durback, pp. 213-214).
Seemingly from time immemorial, human beings have struggled with the nature of God. Is God a God of anger and judgment, or is God a God of compassion, mercy, and grace beyond measure? Not long ago I received a note from a fellow who has come to me for assistance in the past, one who now finds himself in prison, the consequence of a series of poor decisions. At the heart of the letter was the young man’s conviction that surely God was punishing him. Is ours a God of vengeance, a God who relishes opportunity to wreak punishment upon wayward people, a God whom we must cajole and threaten if good is to come our way, or is God a God who seeks, even in the very midst of brokenness and pain, to extend healing and wholeness?