They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. – Revelation 7:16-17

Easter people!

The recent loss of my older brother Peter to cancer has me contemplating life’s gifts and liabilities.  He is the first of my seven siblings to leave this embodied life behind for the “life of the world to come.”  How many other siblings will I lose before my name is called?  I’m not looking forward to finding out.  Yet, in the midst of this time of grief I’ve been blessed with many memories from the 68 years we shared together.  Like the time we played on the same Little League team in Havre, Montana, squinting into the bright plains sun on a field that, instead of green grass, featured brown hardpan with weeds springing up from the cracks. Or the times when our quarreling voices reached fever pitch and Mother would banish us to the garage to “work things out” by ourselves.  Or the time we clandestinely set off forbidden firecrackers in the dirt hills behind our neighbor’s backyard—and in the process accidentally ignited a grass fire that left us panicked—a fire we, fortunately, were able to put out. 

My brother Peter

But the times I hold most dear are the ones when we played football together—he the quarterback and I the receiver.  He’d use his finger to draw up plays on the front of his T-shirt—post routes, flag routes, button hooks—and I’d run them; a pattern we continued again and again over the years.  Peter liked calling the plays, liked being in charge—and he was good at it.  By his senior year in high school he was the starting quarterback for the Albert Lea Central High “Tigers.”  When he later went to Law School it was the obvious choice. Not only because he’d been polishing his arguing skills at home his entire life—but because his clients would know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that he, their advocate—their quarterback—would seize upon the best legal strategy, execute it skillfully, and carry the team to victory.

When it comes to matters of life and death, who do you unfailingly count on?

When Barbara Brown Taylor was asked how she was approaching another season of Lent and resurrection, she responded:[1]

“When you’re in your mid-70s, you’re going to funerals a lot.  So resurrection in a season where so many close ones and Earth herself is in a kind of permanent crucifixion—it helps…to pull the hopefulness in close and attach it to something I can do today, small as it can be. Fill the bird feeders. Make somebody’s day better instead of worse.

“There’s huge surrender in resurrection.  Am I willing to go down to the dust with faith that consists entirely of saying, ‘I trust the one that takes me from there’?  And if it takes me back into carbon molecules and puts me in a bird bone, that’s good enough for me.  A lot of Lent and Easter is about not getting the cup you want, and it’s about drinking the cup.  It’s about trusting your friends to finish what you started, and maybe you have less time that you thought to get done what you wanted to get done.”

Peter was originally diagnosed with lung disease in 2005 and given a two-year prognosis.  By the grace of God he lived another 20 years; long enough to watch his and Gabrielle’s four children, Jacob, Lars, Anneliese, and Soren, finish high school and college, choose careers, find life partners, get married, and begin having children.  Peter had 4 “bonus” years after receiving a double lung transplant on Reformation Sunday in 2020.  Through all the doctor visits, the anti-rejection medications, and all the rest he endured, he didn’t complain.  He found reasons to be thankful.  He continued his professional work as an advocate until the final days of his life, often representing clients who had been taken advantage of by the corporations or organizations for whom they worked.  Throughout all of this, Peter spoke time and again about trusting God with his life.  Did he want more than the 69½ years he got?  Of course; don’t we all?  But he was at peace with trusting that his Lord would unfailingly accompany him to where the springs of the water of life flow; to that new heaven and earth where all tears will be wiped away.

The Gathering Hymn we sang at his memorial was the same one we sang at his and Gabrielle’s wedding: JOYFUL, JOYFUL WE ADORE THEE, based on Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Here’s verse three:

Thou art giving and forgiving, ever blessing, ever blest. Well-spring of the joy of living, ocean depth of happy rest!  Thou our Father, Christ our brother, all who live in love are thine; teach us how to love each other, lift us to the joy divine!

The refrain of the Easter season is clear: I will not leave you orphaned, says Jesus.  Not even death can separate us, for I am with you always—to the end of the age.  That’s a refrain followers of the risen One keep on singing—with gusto!—even in the face of death.

With Resurrection Joy, 

Pastor Erik

[1] Sojourners.  April 2025 edition, p. 27