Revelation 7:9-17

Memory is a tricky thing. Particularly as we get older. There are some things, however, we should never forget. One of these is the sacrifices others have made on our behalf.

It was a spring morning in 1866, just after the Civil War had devastated the South. A group of Southerners did something quite extraordinary. They marched down the streets of what was left of their town to a cemetery. There they decorated the graves of the soldiers. All the soldiers, Union as well as Confederate.

The mothers and daughters and widows had buried their dead. Now they buried their hatred. The time for healing had come. It was the first Memorial Day.

Have you ever wondered why Memorial Day is marked in May?

It’s because it is a time when flowers bloom. Flowers with which to decorate graves.

Some may remember when Memorial Day was called Decoration Day, when the cemeteries were filled with people kneeling to plant a flower or place a garland or unfurl a flag or to say a prayer. Some still do. But most people can no longer be bothered. It would take time away from the beach, the backyard, the ballpark.

But we need to remember. You and I don’t have what we have today by our own efforts alone. We owe enormous debt from the moment we are born. Some of that debt is owed to young men and women who shed their blood on battle fields. Many of them gave their lives because they truly believed freedom is worth dying for.

To honor their sacrifice isn’t to glorify war. War is the ultimate blasphemy against God. Still, we live in a cruel world where tyrants would impose their will on others.

Through the centuries young men, and young women, sacrificed their lives in the cause of one noble ideal after another. Some of these wars have been senseless and barbaric, to be sure. But others have been necessary. We honor the memory of those who have given their lives believing they were making the world safer, freer and more humane.

Of course, there are others who have given their lives for us who never wore a uniform. John in Revelations 7:9-17 tells us about those who “wash their robes in the blood of the lamb.” Among these are those who have given their lives in the service of Jesus Christ. And there have been hundreds of thousands of such sacrifices through the ages.

While we remember those who have died in battle, we also need to remember committed followers of Jesus like Patrick Hamilton. They died in battle, too, the battle between light and darkness. Their sacrifices remind us how anemic our own witness for Christ sometimes is. They gave their all. We dare not forget them.

We also remember the sacrifice of “the Lamb who was slain before the creation of the world” Rev. 13:8.

J. Wilbur Chapman used to tell a story of a soldier who was mortally wounded. His buddy Jim stayed by him through his long and lonely illness to the very end.

“Jim, I’m going to die,” Charlie whispered to his friend. Knowing Jim had no family, Charlie added, “But I want you to go back to my mother and take my place there.”

“But Charlie, your mother doesn’t know me,” Jim reminded his dying comrade, “and she wouldn’t allow me to come into her home and live as a son.”

“I will write her a letter, and you will take it to her,” Charlie explained.

The letter told the mother of her son’s ill fortunes, his wounds, and his suffering, and how Jim stuck by him day and night through it all. The letter closed like this, “Mother, receive Jim for my sake.”

Jim carefully tucked the letter away in his waistcoat. After the war, he went to Charlie’s hometown and sought out the mother’s home. He knocked at the door and stood waiting, ragged and worn from the ravages of war, a very unsightly character.

As the lady opened the door, she looked upon him and thought him to be just another beggar passing by. But Jim handed her the letter through the half-open door. She read it, recognizing her son’s handwriting. When she read the last line, “Mother, receive Jim for my sake,” the expression on her face changed, tears of deep emotion welled up inside, and she threw the door open wide, receiving Jim “for Charlie’s sake.”

That sort of acceptance is the story of the cross. God accepts us as His own beloved children for Christ’s sake. We may not understand why it had to be this way. But we look at the cross and we see an open door there.

And thus, we remember those who died that we may live in freedom. We remember those who died that we may live in faith. We remember Christ who died that we may live forever. That’s the ultimate meaning of this Memorial Day weekend.

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Rev. Charles Eldredge is a member of Maitland Church of the Brethren. He has a Facebook page and can be contacted by email: ce1133 @verizon.net.