Matthew 25:14-20; Philippians 1:3-6
You may have heard of Rev. Maxie Dunnam, a United Methodist preacher well-known for his passion for evangelism and his inspirational books. I met Rev. Dunnam at one of our Bishop’s retreats for the pastors of the New York Conference many years ago, and I’ll never forget his superb stories and his spiritual insights.
Right before joining you in ministry, as I was translating for the Upper Room the manuals for the Walk to Emaus, I discovered that back in the 60s Rev. Dunnam was the founder of the Walk to Emmaus retreats. One of the stories he shared so vividly was about a woman who traveled a long distance to visit with a dear friend of hers when her friend’s father died.
At some point during their visit, the two women walked to a nearby church cemetery where the man had been buried. Once there, they began to reminisce about those now distant days when they were little, then teenagers, then young women getting married, having children, and so forth, always so glued by love with one another and with that man who had introduced them to Christ.
Then their conversation stopped –what else could be said? It was a sacred moment neither woman wanted to disrupt, but suddenly, the little girl with them all that time – she was the man’s granddaughter — sprinted toward her grandfather’s grave and did a few cartwheels over it. Imagine the visitor’s surprise – almost in shock!
With a big, sweet smile her friend told her, “My daughter loves to do cartwheels, and she always did them for her grandpa whenever they played together. She hasn’t done a single cartwheel until now since her grandpa died.”
Rev. Dunnan felt that that little girl was not only remembering her loving grandpa, also she was trying to bring him back into her own life so that her joy could be complete.
I agree, for those cartwheels by the graveyard were that little girl’s way of saying, “Grandpa, we are still together; not even your death can change anything between us because we are still playing together – see? — and that makes you happy, and I makes me even happier.”
What a powerful, unique way of tuning to the Easter message, my friends — “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will be never die.”
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Friends, All Saints is one of those glorious moments of grief and hope.
It is an acknowledgment of the gaps left behind by those we have loved and lost in the past year and longer. But it is also a glimpse into the transforming power of love, into the promise that God’s love will keep us forever so glued together with them, that even though we no longer see them in the flesh, and no longer play with them in the flesh, they are still a significant part of our lives.
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Very briefly, in this parable of the talents Jesus reminds us that God always rejoices when we do our very best to multiply our talents — blessings he places in our hands. And this realization makes me want to do cartwheels for my own saints, particularly my mom and my dad, for they always did their very best to multiply God’s blessings.
What about you, what about the saints in your own lives?
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But All Saints is not only about those who came before us. It is about us, too, about doing our very best for the little ones that God has placed in our hands — our children and grandchildren.
Whether at home or here as the extended family in Christ, we must rejoice in our humble, yet priceless work with our children, for introducing them to Christ and for doing our very best to sustain their spiritual lives. Always “so confident that the one who began a good work in us will carry on” until the end.
And don’t be surprised if one day already in eternity, your children and grandchildren here on earth will want to go out and do a few cartwheels also for you.