The Seventh Word

Leon Bonnat - The Crucifixion

          Almost ten years ago, I was sitting in my office in New York when my colleague, Helen, came in, closed the door and abruptly asked, “Are you afraid to die?”  Without missing a beat, I answered, “No.”  And then, just as abruptly, she asked, “How do I get that way?”  I don’t know what surprised me more:  the fact that Helen asked me that question, or that I responded so quickly.  You see, Helen was a super-confident business woman who had career goals and a plan to achieve them all.  Fear would not have made the top ten list of characteristics that come to mind when I think of Helen.  And as for me, I don’t think I had ever given a moment’s thought to whether I was afraid to die before Helen asked me.  I guess it wasn't high on my list of concerns.  As you can imagine, a long conversation followed, one that talked about faith and the need be in relationship with God.  I've thought of my conversation with Helen many times over the years because I’m just as surprised today as I was then about how quickly I declared that I’m not afraid to die.  That conversation triggered in me a now ten-year long examination of my own faith journey – a journey that has led me to the Seventh Word more times than I can count:  “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

          Unfortunately, I never had a good relationship with my father.  Now, I’m not about to paint for you the picture of a cruel tyrant.  That would be untrue and unfair.  My father was a good man; he was very hard-working, generous and very funny.  We simply didn't get along.  Whether we didn't get along because we were so much alike or because we were so different, I don’t know.  We were like oil and water – we didn't mix.  So from an early age the image of God as Father resonated with me.  I found God in the majesty of nature, in quiet walks in the woods, sitting on the front step watching the cars go by, and spending time alone in my room, whether I had been sent there involuntarily or I had gone of my own volition.  I talked to God all the time, and without necessarily realizing it, I developed a relationship with God – a relationship that I could always turn to in difficult times . .  . .

                    Like when I was in fourth grade.  I gained a lot of weight and became the target of bullying at school.  I was harassed and humiliated whenever the teacher left the room and was chased home almost every day after school.  As a result, I avoided friendships and became somewhat of a loner.  I never told my parents because I was too embarrassed that I wasn't tough enough to stand up for myself.  But I told God, and I turned it over to God:  “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”  By turning it over to God, I found safety, I found solace, and I ultimately found self-worth.  God helped me discover talents that would bring accomplishments that I’m very proud of; God led me to friendships in high school and college that I cherish to this day.  God gave me the tremendous peace that comes with learning to be comfortable in my own skin.

          One month after my twentieth birthday, I faced what would be the greatest challenge to my faith up to that point in my life.  My Uncle Jerry was an important father figure to me.  I had a special and unique relationship with him that I cherished.  So I’ll never forget standing in the doorway of my bedroom with phone in hand as my father called from the hospital to tell me that Uncle Jerry had died of a heart attack that morning.  It was completely unexpected.  He was much too young, and he had no known health issues.  How could God do this to us?  What kind of God would take such a good man in the prime of his life?  I was devastated, and I was very angry with God.  So I told him, and I turned it over to God:  “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”  By turning it over to God, I found peace, I found comfort and I found faith.  God helped me let go of the anger that welled up inside of me.  God showed me the happy memories of Uncle Jerry that softened the pain of his loss.  God gave me the faith that brings with it the sure hope that Uncle Jerry lives, happy, healthy and eternally loved.

          I have countless examples from my faith journey where turning it over to God changed my life, always for the better.  By turning everything over to God, our worries, our fears, our anger, our sorrows, we free ourselves from the hands of the evil one and find comfort, peace and joy in the hands of God.  That’s what I've found, and I live a much happier life because of it.

          You know, the Seventh Word, Jesus’ last word in Luke’s Gospel, is a prayer – Psalm 31, verse five.  It’s a prayer that Jewish mothers would teach their young children to pray at bedtime.  I can imagine Mary reciting that prayer with Jesus as she tucked him into bed at night.  This prayer is a statement of trust in the goodness of God, trust that by turning everything over to God, “all shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.”  Jesus’ last words weren't cries of desperation and fear, they were words of confidence and trust.  “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”  And with those words on my lips, I’m not afraid to die.

Reading:  Luke 23: 46.