Scripture:
II Kings 20:1-11

There was a merchant in Baghdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions. In a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said: "Master, just now when I was in the marketplace, I was jostled by a woman in the crowd. When I turned, I saw that it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture. So lend me your horse and I will ride from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra. Death will not find me there."

The merchant lent him his horse, whereupon the servant mounted it and dug his spurs in its flanks. As fast as the horse could gallop, he went. Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and saw the woman standing in the crowd ... the same woman who had frightened his servant. Approaching her, the merchant said: "Why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him earlier this morning?" "That was not a threatening gesture," she answered, "it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra."

The woman (of course) is Death ... with the assumption being that you cannot avoid or outrun her if she has decided that the hour of your appointed rendezvous is now.

This idea (that "Death is a stalker who refuses to be denied") seems to fascinate everybody. But it especially fascinates teenagers who pay good money to see Death do her thing (his thing, somebody's thing) in horror films galore. Where teenagers are concerned, the bloodier, the better. One such film, Final Destination, opened Friday (although I haven't seen it and have no plans to). The headline in the local review read: "Teen Gorefest Takes a Predictable Path."

As for the plot, it concerns a high school French class and two adult teachers who board a plane for Paris ... and a field trip to die for (pun, clearly intended). Just before buckling in, one of the students has a premonition of the plane exploding, moments after take-off. In a panic, he blurts out his grisly vision. All of which leads to a fistfight and his expulsion from the aircraft. This is followed by the voluntary decision of a few others ... and one teacher ... to similarly deplane. Sure enough, the plane takes off and the plane blows up ... killing the second teacher, the remainder of the class, and everyone else who just happened to be on board.

But that's only the beginning. One by one, the lucky ones (those who got off the plane in the nick of time) die too ... in a very specific order. What is the message? That Death will not be cheated out of his victims (notice, here, that Death is identified with masculine pronouns rather than feminine ones). To reveal any more will spoil your fun ... should you go. Which I recommend you don't. And chances are good that you'll never see this film as an in-flight movie selection. But your kids and grandkids will take it in, and may even echo the sentiments of one of its stars, who said: "Sure, you can't take this too seriously. But it's a fun ride. Plus, it's got the best deaths of any movie I've seen. That, and it's scary." Lord, save us.

This is certainly not a new idea. If memory serves me correctly, Emily Dickinson once pictured Death as keeping its appointments by carriage. Which, as an idea, is certainly more refined. And which bears some relationship to "the chariot" (and its accompanying "band of angels") that some would sing is "coming for to carry me home."

Images? Of course they're images. Are they meant to be taken literally? I doubt it. Are they meant to be taken seriously? I'd suggest it.

There's a line of progression in all of this, is there not? Death calls. Death comes. Death collects. Death carries. But does Death stalk? And is there a time ... prescheduled ... for Death to appear? I think not. But there are many who do not agree with me. Including my maternal grandmother who, as I am sure you know, was once a major force in my life. Since she lived to 97 ... I almost said "the ripe old age of 97," but the last few of those years were anything but "ripe" ... you could hardly say that my grandmother was cheated out of her innings.

But a couple of years prior to her death, she was absolutely convinced her time had come. She was in the hospital. I can't recall the reason. There didn't seem to be the usual signs that Death's door was open ... or even slightly ajar. But she thought it was. So she told all of us in the room she loved us ... was proud of us ... wished the best for us ... and said "good-bye" to each of us (by name, no less). Then she folded her hands on her chest and quietly closed her eyes. Which was lovely. And touching. But somewhat premature.

After about 30 seconds, she opened her eyes and seemed genuinely surprised that she was still looking at all the same faces standing in the same places. So she went through the same speech again ... said the same "good-byes" again ... folded the same hands again ... closed the same eyes again ... leading to the same results again. Meaning that she didn't die. For a couple more years. Which led her to conclude that the "Man Upstairs" (her term, not mine) either wasn't ready for her, or didn't want her. Whereupon she would ask me to ask Him (meaning the "Man Upstairs") what was going on.

My grandmother was not overly religious. But she was convinced that death came by pre-appointment. And she was further convinced that somehow ... through some heavenly screw-up ... she had missed hers.

I have heard smokers tell me that they feel no need to quit, because "when your number is called, it won't matter whether you have spent your life sucking on pure oxygen or sucking on Pall Malls."

I have heard skydivers say: "Not to worry" in discussing their risky business, given their contention that "when your time comes, it won't matter whether you are falling through the clouds or snoozing on the sofa, you're history." And "until your time comes," you haven't got a reason in the world to worry.

I have heard soldiers speculate that the difference between coming home to a victory parade or coming home to a funeral procession is a simple matter of whether there is a "bullet out there with your name on it."

When Bobby Phills, star guard of the Charlotte Hornets, was pulled dead from the wreckage of his roadster, a few short weeks ago, one of his teammates said (in a eulogy, no less), "that God called Bobby home early" ... somewhat overlooking the fact that Bobby was driving his roadster in excess of 100 miles per hour when God's call came. Sometimes it amazes me when I hear the things God gets credited with ... or blamed for.

Are our days numbered? Most assuredly. "We are born to die," the Bible says. We are "like grass" ... which has its day in the sun (or its season in the sun). Then, as is the case with grass, either time withers us or life mows us. Whereupon life (at least as we know it here) goes on without us.

Early on, the Bible talks (allegorically, methinks) about a few people who celebrated an incredible number of birthdays. I mean, where did they find birthday cards that read: "Congratulations on your 600th?" But with the passing of years, the Bible pretty much settled in on "three score and ten" (meaning 70) or "four score" (meaning 80) as a normative number for the human life span. Still, it bothered biblical writers that there were some who died prematurely ... meaning early ... and they didn't quite know what to make of it. After all, what is the Book of Job, if not a speculative discourse on the question of why some things do not seem fair ... or just ... or right?

Clearly, the Bible wrestles with the idea (I almost said "plays with the idea," except that it sounds too frivolous ... and Lent is certainly not a time to be frivolous) that when the curtain comes down, God's hands can be generally found on the pulleys. Which is what we have in today's little story about the near death ... followed by the 15-year reprieve ... of King Hezekiah. His story is really old. It dates from between 705-701 B.C. (making it 2700 years old).

God tells Isaiah (the prophet) to tell Hezekiah (the king): "Get your house in order. For you shall not recover." Whereupon Hezekiah weeps and prays, telling God that he has always "talked the talk and walked the walk" where belief in God is concerned. Which apparently cuts the mustard with God. So God intercepts Isaiah (who has not quite reached the middle court of his exit from the palace) and says: "Halt. Go back. Retrace your steps. Reverse your message. Tell Hezekiah I have heard his prayers ... I have seen his tears ... and he's right. He deserves more time. So I'll add fifteen years."

Which is exactly what happens. Isaiah turns around and tells the king the good news. He also heals Hezekiah's boil with a "figgy poultice" (we must be talking "virulent infection" here). Then Isaiah adds: "The sign that you have been reprieved will be the shadow's retreat on the sundial by 10 intervals." Whereupon Isaiah cries to God and the shadow retreats 10 intervals on the sundial. Message sent. Message authenticated.

It's a fascinating story. But why did I choose it for today's text? Because, on one hand, it suggests the notion of a predetermined date with Death ... as in "now" ... or "fifteen years from now." But it also suggests (as early as 700 B.C.) that nothing is set in concrete ... that everything is negotiable (or amendable) ... and that while God has appointed for each of us to die, the circumstances of our dying (including the timing of our dying) may also have something to do with us. Indeed, quite a bit to do with us.

When Jesus says to the rich fool (the guy with so much "stuff" he can't find sufficient barn storage in which to keep it) that "this very night your soul is being demanded of you ... and what will become of all this stuff then," I don't think Jesus is so much predicting, as he is preaching. And when Jesus says, concerning himself, "that the Son of Man must suffer and die," I am one of those who believe that the real temptation of Jesus (indeed, the last temptation of Jesus) is that he could have slipped from supper ... slipped from Jerusalem ... slipped quietly back to Galilee ... become a fair-to-middling country preacher ... retired at 65 ... wintered at the Red Sea resort ... and died of congestive heart failure in his bed ... had he chosen to exercise his will at the expense of his Father's.

In short, I believe there is some "play" in the system, and that death neither stalks us, nor consults a fore-ordained appointment calendar as to when it should visit us. As concerns the listing of my name, I do not think there is a number beside it. And as concerns the listing of yours, I do not think there is a number beside it, either. As to the possibility that "angels of death" may come (and I'm extremely comfortable with the idea that they do ... quite apart from the television series), I think they come to take us home, not to do us in.

Does God know (in advance) that death is near? Darned if I know. I suppose it depends on what you mean by the word "advance." I doubt that God knew "in advance" that Bobby Phills was going to die in that fatal car wreck in Charlotte ... although I suppose a certain predictability of tragedy can be attached to behaviors such as driving 105 miles per hour on the city streets of Charlotte, rather than on the oval track at Darlington. So God "could have known" ... just as many of us could have known. It's relatively easy to be prophetic when the people you are prophesying about are stupid.

As concerns the premonitions of death that come to some from time to time, I simply do not know what to make of them. I hear the same stories you do ... stories about people who never had a sick day in their lives (and haven't seen a doctor in years) who suddenly, with no apparent explanation, start putting their affairs in order. All the while, they deny they are doing so. But then they die. And everybody says: "They must have sensed something."

Did God send them a message? Or were they unconsciously listening to their own body language and intuiting self-sent signs of their own mortality? Darned if I know. But if you forced me to take a position, I'd lean toward the latter rather than the former.

Now I know ... I just know ... that some of you are going to hit me at the door with the doctrine of predestination ... or the idea that all things are pre-determined by God, to the point of being pre-scripted by God. We'll have to talk about that someday, you and I. Suffice it to say, for now, that I don't embrace it. And there are relatively few Methodists who do.

Prior to St. Augustine (354-430 A.D.), the early church never preached this. And when it does appear in theology, it is never in the context of who dies or who lives, but who is saved and who is not. At issue in the doctrine of predestination is not whether our daily comings and goings have been pre-planned, but whether our salvation has been pre-assured. Unfortunately, the doctrine has been perverted to say things it never intended to say. Which is probably why Augustine said it should never be preached in the hearing of common folk. So much for my "history of doctrine" lecture.

* * * * *

One final word! From time, immemorial, preachers have seized upon the unpredictability of death's timetable as a way of warning the faithful and the unfaithful to "clean up their act." "You never know," the preacher thunders, "it could happen any day ... any time ... any place ... to any one of you" (funny, I never hear them say "to any one of us"). Still, it's a legitimate sermon topic, given that John the Baptist made a career out of it. Even Jesus preached it from time to time ("Fool, what if all the chips get cashed ... the IOUs get called ... the chickens come home to roost ... this very night?").

But I am among those who feel that if obedience to the gospel is beneficial to the next life, it must be beneficial to this one. Why obey? Because it's a better way to live ... a happier way to live ... a healthier way to live. The Bible is clear. There is no way of living that will deny death. But there are some ways of living that may delay it ("may," not "will" ... there are no guarantees). But which leads me to say that the best reason for cleaning up your act ... the best reason for getting religion ... the best reason for turning to God ... the best reason for coming home to Jesus ... is not in case you die. But in case you don't.

Note: The narrative concerning Hezekiah and Isaiah can also be found in the first 22 verses of Isaiah 38. I chose to read it from II Kings, given that the flow of the narrative is tighter and more sequentially organized in II Kings. Most scholars suggest that Isaiah's version has certain key elements misplaced. However, Isaiah's version also includes Hezekiah's "psalm of gratitude," alleged to have been uttered in response to the 15-year reprieve. The "psalm" is a lovely piece of writing, but probably existed, quite apart from Hezekiah's voicing it, as a psalm popular in the liturgy of the Temple.

The quote from Somerset Maugham is taken from the opening page of John O'Hara's highly-acclaimed novel, Appointment in Samarra.