Keep your fork; you'll be needing it.

I was brought up in York during the Second World War. My friend Jeffrey Hughes lived two houses down on the same side of the street.

We were precocious 5 year olds that terrorised the neighbourhood on our scooters.

Jeffrey informed me one day that his uncle Jim, who had been living with the family, had died. I wasn't sure what that meant but I assumed it was bad.

The neighbours were invited round the next day to pay their respects. Jeffrey and I were there.

The living room was filled with friends and family; they were all busy chatting and drinking large cups of Mrs Hughes Typhoo tea. ( She would drink no other.)

Stretched out on the sofa in his Sunday suit lay uncle Jim in calm repose...... all dressed up and nowhere to go.

Occasionally one of the adults would edge over and inspect uncle Jim. One lady rested a cup and saucer on his chest and appeared to be in deep conversation with him. I wouldn't have been surprised if Jim had sat up and sipped his Tyhoo with her.

At my tender age it seemed to me that death, dressed in a Sunday suit, was not so bad, especially if you were the centre of attention.


In later years my thoughts were confirmed. By then I was following the One who said: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." I now understand that uncle Jim should have had a fork in his hand not a saucer on his chest.

The best course is yet to come when we follow Christ.

Final step ...duh

On numerous of my trips to the States where I have preached for many years, I would take time to tour the Civil War battlefields.

At Spotsylvania in Virginia there is marker that denotes the place where Major General Sedgewick was shot from his horse.

The story attached to the marker is unique.

The good general was surveying the Confederate battle line before the engagement began. His aide de camp urged him to take care because of enemy snipers.

Sedgewick nonchalently remarked:
"Why, they couldn't hit an elephant from that dist----"
At that precise moment a bullet from an Enfield rifle fired from 800 yards away instantly killed him.

His final step was a five foot drop from his horse and words immortalised for their presumption.

I have carried this sober story with me for the last ten years and share it with you today.

I offer it as a point to ponder as you begin your day.

Taking the last step with dignity

Our children had a very remarkable adopted grandmother. She was called Jocelyn Boone and was married to none other than Daniel Boone.

She was the most loving, wise and gracious person you could hope to meet.

At age sixty two Jocelyn contracted cancer of the lungs. This grey haired lady, always so poised and beautiful, became ravaged by her sickness.

She declined as the weeks passed and Pauline and I decided we would take her grandchildren to see her for a final visit.

It was necessary that we teach them about death and what better way was there than to let grandma talk with them.

That afternoon we were able to say our tearful farewells.

Jocelyn, always so gracious in life, was a model of dignity and faith as she lay propped  by pillows in her bed.

She spoke quietly and smiled often. Her mind was clear and unclouded by drugs.

And what were her last words to us?

"I'll see you in the morning." That night she passed away, and a victorious passing it was.

You were so right, grandma Boone, we will indeed see you in the morning and a lot of others will be there too.

Taking the last step

As far as life here on earth, we are all in the short term parking lot. Let's make sure our last step is with confidence.

To some of my international friends the name Dick Cavett won't register with you. Dick was the fore-runner of the redoubtable Johnny Carson and had a popular talk show.

In the 70's he was interviewing a guest called Irving Rodale. This man was 72 years old, a fitness Guru and editor of "Prevention" magazine.

During his interview Rodale said "I've decided to live to a hundred years old, unless I'm run over by a sugar crazed taxi driver"

Moments later his head drooped and he began to snore,
Cavett asked him " Are we boring you?" not realizing that Rodale had had a massive stroke. He died soon after.

Here's someone who didn't quite get it. He was making confident predictions about his next thirty years when he had only a matter of minutes left on earth.

His final step was memorable for all the wrong reasons.

Let's not make the same mistake because all of us live close to the EXIT sign.

Taking the final step

Last week the theme was "Making the first step." This week
we follow the theme of "Taking the final step."

Nor will we be morbid.

Death should never be regarded as the 'Grim Reaper' but merely as the 'Grim Doorman' who opens the way to the inexpressible world to come.

My mother took her final step with great flair. She was in her 99th year.

I had been seeing her regularly on trips home to England. As I made my farewell in her 98th year I said "Mother you must die sometime. When you do, can you arrange that I be in England so that I can say some words over your casket? If I'm preaching in the jungles of Africa I won't be able to come home for your funeral. So make sure that I'm around when you depart."

A year later, my sister Anne phoned me to say that mother had passed away.

Astonishingly I was due to fly out to England two days later. Mother's timing was exquisite.

Mother had been in a senior's complex for five weeks. She had been asked to leave the self-contained apartment where she had lived for many years. She had left some lamb chops on the stove, gone to sleep and nearly incinerated herself (and everyone else).

Now she was with the community in the Senior Folks Home.
On that particular day there was an entertainer at the Centre leading the seniors in a collection of songs from the Second World War.

It occurred to mother that there was not enough effort being given by her fellow citizens. Promptly she jumped to her feet and encouraged them with a loud rendering of "Bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover."

As mother hit the high note she went cold and a few minutes later was gone to be with the Lord. The vindicating moment of a life long faith in Christ

Gone on a high note and, for that Bluebird, it was over!

I preached at her eulogy a few days later, gave thanks for a life well lived and for a lady who made her final step in style.