Resurrection

(out of the mouths of babes)

If I burn a piece of paper, it “appears” as though the matter in the paper is completely destroyed; or at the very least, vanished into thin air, having at least somewhat less mass than it had before.

However, the exact same amount of matter exists before - and after - I burn a piece of paper. The matter only appears to be destroyed. It has simply “changed its form”.

That’s what resurrection is (whether we are talking physically or spiritually) - something which “appeared” to be destroyed that has simply “changed its form”.

Resurrection happens in nature. To everything. Everywhere. All the time. Whether we are talking about hilltops, hamburgers, or humans; nature endlessly re-uses the very same atoms - linked together in ever new and different forms - again and again and again, over vast eons of time.

Resurrection.

And if resurrection comes, again and again - one hundred percent of the time - to every atom of matter in our universe, then why not also to something so intricately and wonderfully made as are we?

As a child I taught once told me, “Mr. T., if everybody already knew that God was real and that there was a heaven, then nobody would need any faith at all. Because everybody would already know.”

Out of the mouths of babes …

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Over the years, I found that children can often teach us much about life, about death, about faith, about resurrection.

The following are some more wonderful words that were voiced to me over the years - all from young children whom I once taught:

“Mr. Talley, if we already know we’re all going to die, then why don’t we all say we love each other more than we do?”

(To add to this little boy’s words would only detract from their beauty. What else need I say?)

Here is another …

“Mr. Talley, since I already know I’m going to die one day, I’m going to decide right this minute to be nice to everybody my whole entire life, even if they’re not nice to me.”

(The following words are from a little girl who was dying of leukemia, spoken when I entered her hospital room for a visit.)

“Look, Mr. Talley! Now I’m bald like you! But I’m glad I’m bald, because I always worried you felt bad about being bald. Now I know it’s not so bad. Like everybody says about dying. But I can tell them it’s not all that bad. I’m just glad I got to live. Not everybody gets to do that.”

(And just listen to the following words from a child who lost a beloved pet to death.)

“Mr. Talley, my kitten died. Everybody says I will see her again someday, but that doesn’t help at all. It only makes me sadder. So I’ve decided to keep her alive all the time even after I’m gone by teaching everyone to be so very, very, very kind to their pets.”

(The following words came from a child so wise that I dare say few adults could match her.)

“Mr. Talley, I love knowing that every atom in our bodies came from the Earth, and that the Earth came from the Sun, which probably came from an even bigger star that exploded very far away. It probably thought it had died, but part of it came alive in every atom that one day became me. I want to grow up and help people to not be afraid of dying … or of anything at all, Mr. Talley.”

(The following words are from a boy who lived a very “disadvantaged life” in many ways, to say the least. He was later murdered as a young adult, right here in Bristol, not too long ago.)

“Mr. Talley, I was thinking … dying can’t be bad. You taught us that nothing in nature is really bad. We just think it is, from where we stand. Volcanoes are good. And earthquakes. And germs. And all that stuff that seems bad to people right there that are close by when things happen. But if we were far away and in a different place, we could see that it’s all good.”

It all sounds to me like wonderful material for an Easter Sunday sermon on faith and resurrection.

On second thought … no need for the sermon.

The children have already preached it.