A Peek at the Promise

January 28, 1996

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Scripture: “I have let you see it with your eyes, but you shall not go over there.” Deuteronomy 34:4b

In some ways it must have been a devastating disappointment. After all he’d been through, and now so close, not even to be allowed to go in.

Just a glimpse, a fleeting moment to see it through those 120 years old eyes, just a peek at the promise was all God would give Him. It doesn’t seem fair, does it? We all like happy endings. We like stories that conclude with resolutions and completeness...justice done, all wrapped up with a bow...the boy getting the girl, the hero riding off into the sunset---THIS STORY FALLS JUST SHORT OF THAT.

If I had been writing, I would have had Moses himself leading his people across that river, with trumpets blaring, had him setting up an altar of thanks, had him barking out orders for the possession of the land...and THEN, when it was all done and the outcome was assured...THEN he could lay down and die, with the adoring multitudes kneeling around him singing mournful dirges, and the angels swooping down to lift his worn out body and bear it away to his deserved reward.

That’s how it should have ended. If you know anything at ALL about Hollywood, you know that.

But NO. It didn’t end that way. It ended before it was over. Moses never got all the way to the Promised Land. He never had the satisfaction of touching the ground that represented his goal, his dream, his obsession through all those long, torturous years of struggle since God first called him in the burning bush on the side of the mountain.

He had worked, sweated, argued, fought, cajoled...led his people out of slavery, performed an almost incomprehensible task of directing those thousands of refugees in a journey across the desert...settling fights, supplying provisions, beating off enemies, molding a diverse, stiff-necked people---they themselves admitted they were stiff-necked---molding them into a genuine community. When the Hebrews left Egypt, they were a motley aggregation of individuals; by the time they reached Palestine, they were a NATION. It’s one of the most astounding leadership accomplishments in all of recorded history. MOSES HAD DONE IT. Humanly speaking, he was the catalyst, the agent through which it had been accomplished, and the prize out there, always, was this new home to which they were going.

40 years he had been driving toward it, through wind, and sand, and grumbling, and apostasy, and disappointment…over every obstacle, planning for it, sacrificing for it, looking forward to it… and on the verge of being able to see the dream fulfilled, God pulled him up short. At the line, the very boundary, where expectation slides into realization, the road ran out. You know he had to be disappointed. The land was there, the land of promise, the land of milk and honey, the land God had all along said He was giving them as an inheritance, but the one man most responsible for their being there to experience it, the one man with the greatest appreciation of its significance, was not allowed to set foot inside.

The account in Deuteronomy is matter-of-fact and straightforward. The Lord simply took him up to the overlook, there on the east side of the Jordan---“Mt. Pisgah’s lofty height”, the old hymn puts it----turned him toward the west, cleared the haze, and gave him a look, nothing more....

The panorama stretched out before him.... God allowed him just a peek at the promise, and then he took him home. It doesn’t seem fair in a sense, and yet, in a deeper and profounder sense, wasn’t it really enough? At least, isn’t that about all anybody ever gets when it comes to the highest and noblest goals of the human experience? WHEN DO WE EVER GET MORE? The story of Moses with respect to dreams and fulfillment is the story of all of us. Whoever in this life gets more than a peek at the promise, if it’s a big enough promise?

Only those with very limited dreams can expect to see them totally fulfilled here, before the time of their pilgrimage expires. BIG dreams, LOFTY goals can’t usually be encompassed within one narrow dimension. And it’s all right for it to be that way. In fact, it’s GOOD for it to be that way. It’s what someone has called one of the “intimations of immortality”.

One’s dreams ought to be bigger than something that can be stuffed into 70, or 80 or 90 years. Wouldn’t life be paltry if it were otherwise? It doesn’t matter whether we live to see all those dreams totally consummated. A peek is enough to keep us going when we know that the Maker of the Big Promises can be trusted.

Someone has said that a sure mark of maturity is represented by a person planting a tree when the planter of that tree knows that enjoying the luxury of sitting in its shade will never be personally experienced. It’s not the shade, it’s the prospect of the shade that brings the satisfaction.

The planting itself is a joy, even if the planter won’t benefit. It’s an investment, in the future, for others. A peek at the potential is reward enough.

How well parents know this. See it in the Sacrament of Infant Baptism we had the privilege of administering this morning. You could call that Sacrament, in part, a peek at the promise. It’s what gives it a good hunk of its glory.

Think of all the dreams, and plans, and hopes, and aspirations Steve and Jeannie have for little Andrew, this special, unprecedented gift of the Creator’s grace that has come into their home. Andrew was wanted, and accepted, and loved, even before he arrived. He didn’t know that. Still doesn’t. That’s grace. His parents have made provision for him, sacrificed for him, given up a more comfortable routine for him, and been glad to, because he’s theirs, and they love him. They have wonderful dreams for him, dreams that are bigger than they are. There are probably going to be a lot of sacrifices, and maybe some aches and agonies before their responsibility of parenting is essentially lifted, and that doesn’t bother them at all.

What’s more, the likelihood is that they will not themselves have the satisfaction of seeing the full, complete, final unfolding of his mature development, on down the road. By the time he reaches ripeness of maturation, and has children and grandchildren, they’ll probably no longer be here. But that doesn’t dim the richness and the nobility of their commitment to him now. A peek at the promise is all they have, but it’s enough to sustain them because they believe that the implications of this act today reach out into dimensions that transcend them.

And the dream goes on... See it not only here, see it in the history of our country. This past year there was a celebration of the 200th anniversary of the writing and the adoption of the Constitution of the United States.

A little group of new citizens---everybody in the country was a new citizen---they had won their independence, but now where do you go...? They call a Constitutional Convention.

Each one in the group chosen by his local state....They were all male...most were lawyers, some were farmers, or soldiers....They met nearly all summer long in an unairconditioned building in Philadelphia...hammering out details of a plan to make government work.

How many branches of government should we have…? How about the legislative branch? Do big states get more votes than little states? Who can vote?.... Land owners, Women? If a woman is a landowner, can she, or can’t she?

Are slaves people, or property? A lot of sticky questions had to be dealt with. At one point John Randolph wrote home to his wife, “I despair that we shall ever succeed.”

And in a much-publicized moment during a lull in the debate, old Benjamin Franklin, the oldest of the delegates, took the occasion to point to a chair in the room where they were meeting, a chair which carved into its wooden back had a picture of the sun, nestled on the horizon, its rays extended like spokes up and to the side.

“Let us pray”, said the old warrior, “that the symbolism represented here, like the future of this young, fragile nation, is that of a rising, not a setting sun.”

You see, they didn’t know, for sure, whether it would work or not, this new idea, this dream of a nation “conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.” AND THEY NEVER KNEW IN THEIR LIFETIMES THE FULL STORY.

The last remaining signer of the Constitution, James Madison, from Virginia, died in 1836, before the Civil War, and the Western expansion, and the coming of prominence of the nation as an international power.

None of them lived to see any of that, but it didn’t matter. The bigness of this concept to which they knew they were contributing was reward enough. A peek at the promise was all they had, but it sustained them because they believed in the ongoing importance of what they were doing. It was an investment in something big enough to transcend them.

And the dream goes on....

May I bring it closer home? See it right here in this local church in a dream that gradually took shape across the years in the minds of a couple with no children, but with a deep love for God and for the Church.

William H. and Susan Hay Marcy were blessed materially and financially. They were persons of wealth, not the richest people in the world, but certainly able to live quite comfortably. They saw their wealth as a trust, not as an end, not as a goal in itself, but as a means through which they could express their faith, and make an impact on the future.

And Bill Marcy used not only his money, he used his ability, his training, his skill and business acumen as a good steward. It was he, more than any other who saved the church from losing that property that fronts the lake down there, the parking lot, the lovely lakeside chapel. He bought it himself when it looked like it would have to be sold to pay expenses, and then turned around and deeded it over to the Church. He and his wife had insight, vision enough to see that we’d need that property one day, and he didn’t want to see it lost.

What’s more, they had a dream of upgrading, raising, enhancing the ministry of the Church. That ministry had blessed their lives through the years. It had brought them comfort and challenge and strength. Maybe it could be strengthened for even broader, greater service.

So they established a Trust, not limited to use in just this church, but including this church, a Trust devoted to the Proclamation of the Word, what Paul liked to call in a wonderful phrase, “the foolishness of peaching.” They believed that the Good News of Jesus Christ, preached with winsomeness and clarity has the power to change human life, and they made a generous investment of their resources to back up what they believed.

That Trust is at work now. Out of a part of it, over 30 young ministers of this conference so far have received special training from the best teachers in Methodism to improve their preaching skills.

The Marcy’s did not live to see the Trust in operation. Bill Marcy died in 1966 and Susan Hay Marcy died in 1979. But their investment may never die. Who knows that impact it may continue to have. Impulses they set in motion may continue to resound for good for decades. They planted trees through which others in years to come may find shade.

A peek at the promise was all they had, but it was enough, because they believed in the eternal worth of the cause to which they were committed. It was its own reward. They gave to something big enough to transcend them.

And the dream goes on....

I guess, finally, that’s why I really don’t feel so sorry for Moses. I don’t feel nearly as sorry for him as I do for some other people who have actually achieved their petty dreams, who have actually stepped into their supposed Promised Land, only to find the promises counterfeit. That’s the deeper tragedy. It’s far better to catch a glimpse of a noble dream than to realize a cheap one.

For the unrealized dream if it’s big enough, goes on. We may never do all we’d like to do, accomplish all we’d like to accomplish, see come to pass all we yearn, and strive, and ache for, but a part of the Gospel is that the yearning and the striving and aching we do for good is NEVER wasted. God takes all that and molds it into God’s great redemptive plan, giving us a peek from time to time to sustain us, and to assure us that God’s still in charge of things.

Moses didn’t get there, but he got to see that it WAS there, and he knew that by God’s grace and in God’s good time God’s people would arrive and find rest in the shade. The peek was a confirmation of the validity of his efforts, and a ringing affirmation of God’s everlasting trustworthiness.

Now, lift it even one more level, really as far as we can go....so far. A peek at the promise of the life everlasting.

What do we know, for sure, about the GREAT Promised Land, the hereafter, the eternal home to which our earthly pilgrimage points?

The truth is, not much. Only One, from history, has ever come back from the grave, and He didn’t give us many details. Some of the literary geniuses of the race have painted their visions for us.... John, from Patmos, Milton, Dante...they’ve written about how they thought it would be.

BUT WE DON’T REALLY KNOW. We have no physical evidence, no tangible proof, no mere human has ever set foot there and come back to tell us about it. We have only a hint, a glimmering, a peek, if you will, at a blessed, glorious Promise.

Maybe, if it’s like other noble dreams planted in the human spirit, maybe even there there’ll be opportunity for further growth and development. Wouldn’t that be exciting?

But that’s parenthetical. We don’t know the details. What we do know is simply this.

Jesus has promised us that He would be there, to receive His own unto Himself, and what more do we really need? That peek is enough for now, because we trust the character of the Promise Maker.

Peter Taylor Forsyth was a great Christian saint as well as a first-rate theologian, and in one of his books he wrote these marvelous words about our trust in the beyond: “There are those who quietly say, as their faith follows their love into the unknown, ‘I know that land. I’ve never been there myself, but some of my people live there. They’ve gone abroad there on a secret foreign service which does not admit of communication. But I meet from time to time the Commanding Officer, and when I mention them to Him, He assures me that all is well.’”

Do we really need more than that for the time being?

A word of assurance from the Commanding Officer...a peek at the promise, and we are sustained.

No, we don’t always have answers. We almost never have proof. Total achievement almost invariably exceeds our grasp. Human disappointments, in fact, dog us daily.... As great a man as Moses didn’t get there.... Perhaps that’s evidence of his greatness.

BUT IF GOD CHOOSES TO CLOSE A DOOR, NO LASTING DISAPPOINTMENT CAN BESET THE LIFE WHICH IS FULLY COMMITTED TO GOD.

For underneath all our journeying there flows a deep seated faith that no matter what happens, no matter how dark the night, or how strong the buffeting winds, the ONE who guides us can be trusted. The peek at the promise is enough, until we see face to face.

Now I close with this story, gratefully acknowledging my indebtedness for it to J. Wallace Hamilton.

Many of you have probably read Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings’ novel “The Yearling”. It won the Pulitzer Prize for literature in 1939. It’s a novel about a primitive, backward people, “cracker” people, if you will, right here in our own state of Florida. The setting is up in what is now the Ocala National Forest, not far from where I was born and raised.

In the book the one character who stands out and stays clean through all the hardships of the story is Penny, the father.

There is another character in the book, a pitiful, crippled, half-wit boy named Fodder Wing, whose very existence would seem to some a complaint against the goodness of God. But this child with a twisted body and a twisted mind had a way with animals, and all the little wild creatures became his friend.

Then comes the day when Fodder-Wing dies. His body lies in the rough, handmade casket, and the family and friends gather for the funeral. There is no preacher, but somehow as people instinctively at a time like that turn toward the Creator, one of them says, “Penny, you’ve had some Christian raisin’.... We’d be proud did you say somethin’.”

And Penny stands at the edge of the open grave and lifts up his face to the sunlight, and while the rough men around take off their hats and bow their heads, he offers up his prayer:

“O Lord, Almighty God. Hit ain’t for us ignorant mortals to say what’s right and what’s wrong. Was ary one of us to be a-doin’ it, we’d not of brung this pore boy into the world a cripple, and his mind teched. We’d of brung him in straight and tall like his brothers, fitten to live and work and do.

“But in a way of speaking, Lord, you done made it up to him. You give him a way with the wild critters. You give him a sort of wisdom, made him knowin’ and gentle. The birds come to him, and the varmints moved free about him, and like as not he could have taken a she wild cat in them pore, twisted hands.

“Now you’ve done seen fit to take him where bein’ crookedly in mind or limb don’t matter. But Lord, hit pleasures us to think now you’ve done straightened out them legs and that pore bent back and them hands. Hit pleasures us to think on him moving around as easy as anybody else.

“And Lord, give him a few red birds and maybe a squirrel and a coon and ‘possum to keep him company like he had down here. All of us is somehow lonesome, and we know he’ll not be so lonesome, do he have them little wild things around him, if it ain’t askin’ too much to put a few varmints in heaven. Thy will be done. Amen.”

I think Moses could have said Amen to that.

There are a lot of disappointments, a lot of injustices, a lot of incompleted dreams in this life. Almost never do we see our noblest goals totally achieved.

But however much of God’s mysterious ways we don’t understand, there’s something deep inside of us that knows, just knows there is a justice, and a rightness, and a basic goodness in the character of the Almighty that can be trusted.

We haven’t experienced it all yet, but like Moses viewing Canaan from the slopes of Mt. Pisgah, we’ve had a peek at the promise....

And for now, it’s enough...through Jesus Christ our Lord.