No Longer Slave to Fear
It was my idea to refer to Heddie as “Helga” in the order for worship. Heddie is the second “Helga” from east Germany which I have had the honor of getting to know. Both of these women seemed to me to have been cut from the same cloth and stitched together by the same creator. Neither of them were willing to be silenced or intimidated. A trait that was often on display in the way they interacted with others, as well as being on display in the way they interacted with God.
Our Helga – Heddie – turned practically every conversation I had with her into a discussion of God’s fairness and God’s care. In my years of professional ministry, I have had folks ask - then sheepishly back down - from wondering why God did not perform the miracle they sought. Helga never backed down. She continued to ask why God would not let her die. It was up to the doctors and nurses and care-providers to delineate the medical reasons. Among those who loved her deeply there were various opinions. Among those opinions was the suggestion that Heddie was just too stubborn to give in to anything. My discussions with Heddie were, understandably, theological.
The aspect of those theological discussions most important for me to share today is Heddie’s underlying unwillingness to stop asking a question simply because it might embarrass God or put God into an awkward situation. God does not need us to defend him, and he isn’t going to be defamed by one of his children asking the really important questions.
Heddie’s reasons for being ready to die certainly involved her failing health. She was uncomfortable or in pain for too many hours of the day. But her readiness to be with Jesus exposed a confidence that death would not separate her from the things she valued the most. Death would be a reunion.
So, she doggedly and repeatedly yoked me into asking God the poignant and embarrassing question – “Why?”
I can’t remember when or how I wrote Hebrews 2:15 on a post-it and attached it to the “Five Wishes” materials Heddie had filled out and left with us. Hebrews 2:15 is the verse printed near the top of the order for worship. The verse is part of a longer statement but the critical insight is how Christ has freed “those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death.” Heddie might have been tired of living and she may have sought the release of her pain. But more significantly, she displayed the blessedness of one who had been set free from that fear which cripples too many and hobbles too many lives.
Running out of replies, one day I shared with Heddie the image from Revelation, Chapter 4. Here, as in other places, we are given a glimpse of what it is like for those who are with the Lord. We are told that the elders around the throne are continually and constantly falling on their faces to praise God. I suggested to her that her existence now was not all that different from what her existence would be like on the other side of the grave. In both places, I encouraged her, she could give glory to God. I told her that she did have a reason for living – and that reason was allowing others to see her continual and constant exchanges with God and the way that God was interacting with her. She sat there for a moment. Then instructed me, “You could say that at my funeral.”
The other Helga in my life is the undisputed chair of the Altar Guild in the church in Eisleben, Germany, where Martin Luther preached his last four sermons. She is the one who took the chalice from me, as we were ending a celebration of Holy Communion in St. Andreas Church. Through an interpreter, she wanted me to know that the chalice dated to the 15th century. It is likely that Martin Luther held this chalice when he presided at Holy Communion in that place. “How have you kept it out of the museums?” I asked her. The reply informed me that what I was holding was not some novelty item or trinket. This was the cup which for centuries brought the presence of Christ into the lives of the members of that congregation. She went on to say that if she and her predecessors had preserved the cup throughout the years of GDR – no museum could wrest it from their hands.
Too often we treat God as if God were fragile and frail. Too many times we want Jesus to be some pretty display for our bookshelves or coffee table. Helga reminds us of the true identity of the one who created us, saves us, and preserves us.
I have avoided telling any of the funny Heddie stories which you have no doubt been rehearsing these past few days. She did churn up laughter. For the record, I did not knock her down and jump on top of her. We were trying to move to the living room to sit on the comfortable chairs. She was trying to turn, and fell. Rather than grab her I tried to soften her fall. I did lay on the floor with her so I could look her in the eyes and evaluate whether I needed to call 9-1-1.
We all got a few good laughs, from being around Heddie.
Laughter is fading; not so much the sensation of joy. Joy is that deeper awareness of being connected to that which matters and that which makes such a difference in our lives. Helga’s fierce interactions with God created a deep reservoir of such joy from which we were invited to drink. That joy bubbled over quite often and bestowed upon us the delightful experience of laughter.
I will miss Heddie. You will miss her. But mostly we will celebrate with her the moving more closely to the God who loved her and cared for her and now has, finally, has welcomed her into his presence.
Amen.
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