Wednesday, April 11, 2001
Wednesday, April 11, 2001
He who rescued us from so deadly a peril will continue to rescue us; on him we
have set our hope that he will rescue us again,
Hamilton Whaley tells what that meant for him. He was happily married, had five great kids, and a
big, comfortable house in a pleasant community. He was active in a good church and making
more money than he had ever dreamed of. Then, in September of 1976, he was involved in an
accident as he was driving to work. Fortunately, he didn't need much of a stay in the hospital.
And he recovered fully from his injuries. But shortly after he came home again, strange phone
calls started pouring in. Mrs. Whaley would answer, and there'd be a voice she didn't recognize at
the other end. "Mrs. Whaley," someone would say, "I'm so sorry about your husband! I just read
about his death, and I wanted to express my condolences to you!" And Mrs. Whaley would
protest, but the calls kept coming. It seems that the latest Hillsborough County Bar Association
carried a front-page announcement. "In Memoriam! Hamilton Whaley!" After the initial shock
wore off, the Whaley's joked about it. But later the joke turned serious for Hamilton Whaley.
He tried to think about what life would be like without him. Would there be any difference if he
was no longer around? As Hamilton and his wife talked together about it, late at night, it
became important for them to make a difference. It was Passion Week, that year which triggered
the changes for them. They realized the fickleness of cheap talk, as they watched again the
crowds of Jerusalem dancing between praise and prejudice. Hamilton Whaley said he couldn't get
over the shock of reading his own obituary. And he understood how easy it was to let other
people describe the significance of his life in their terms. But he said, only God could write the
true story of his life. And he wouldn't rest until he himself learned to sing that melody.
(2 Corinthians 1:10
NRSV)
Maurice Boyd once preached a sermon he called The Wrong Side of Easter. "It's hard for us," he
said, "to truly celebrate either Palm Sunday or Good Friday. We're Easter People," he said,
"People of the resurrection. And the songs of this week come back to us like familiar memories.
But we can't live them again. God has put us in a new time frame. Both Palm Sunday Prelude
and Good Friday Finale must eventually fade away to the New Song of Easter. Neither the shouts
of the children in the streets of Jerusalem nor the cries of the crowds at Pilate's bench will satisfy
our thirst for meaning in life."
Dear God, show me the way to make a difference, as my service to you gives my life meaning.
Amen.
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