Are you Dying to Live?

It’s always good to come back here and see you and be part of your worship.

I’m starting to make some friends here, and that can be dangerous. Not for me, but for you.

But it’s good to come back and see you again.

I did a little research recently. I’ve always known what “Laguna” means and what Laguna Beach is, but I always wondered where the name “Niguel” came from.

Anybody know what “Niguel” means?

History time.

It means “small,” or we would say “mini.” A small lagoon.

So you can take that back to your friends and neighbors and use it during your next trivia game about the place where you live.

And we are on the last Sunday of the Easter season on the church calendar. Next week you can wear red and celebrate Pentecost.

I have some red shoes and I may show up in them… but I may not, because I don’t think you want red shoes in the house.

But Easter is always such a wonderful season.

It’s a season of celebration, joy, restored hope, life over death, and the adventure that lies ahead.

I remember when I was serving in Seattle, I really worked on the call to worship.

You know how on Easter Sunday you say:

“He is risen!”

And the response is…

“Well done.”

But I had this one child who always spoke before the congregation could respond.

I said, “He is risen!”

And the little boy in the first row shouted:

“Uh-oh.”

Well, there is an adventure that lies ahead, so maybe those words are appropriate.

But today, I’m going to be a party pooper.

Because we’re going to talk about death.

In such a time as this, we are here to say that death is actually a significant part of the Good News of the Gospel.

I’ve spent a lot of time recently studying the parables of Jesus, and I want to focus on one particular passage from the twelfth chapter of John.

Jesus is in Jerusalem, probably only hours before His arrest and crucifixion. With all the crowds gathered in the city for Passover, a group of Greeks comes to Philip and says:

“We wish to see Jesus.”

Philip goes to Andrew, and together they approach the Lord.

And Jesus, in His response, almost seems dismissive — as though He’s blowing them off.

But if we look deeper into His response and this parable, we discover a really important message not only for the Greeks who came to see Him, or for the disciples and crowds gathered there, but even for us today.

We read from John 12:23–26.

Jesus answered them:

“The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain. But if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.”

This is the Word of the Lord.

Jesus was indeed a revolutionary figure.

And in fact, this point in His ministry becomes an inflection point for civilization itself.

Among the fundamental strands of His teaching is this parable.

It tells us who He is, what He came to do, and more practically, how God expects us to live as partners with Him.

Let me make a few observations.

First of all, life in God’s kingdom is necessarily preceded by death.

Let that sink in for a moment.

It seems paradoxical — even counterproductive.

In order to live, we must die.

I remember being in first grade after we moved from Northern California to Bellflower.

Our teacher at Maine Thompson Elementary School gave us each a little packet of seeds with instructions.

She told us to take the seeds home, find a fertile piece of ground, loosen the soil, plant the seeds, and keep the soil moist.

So I went home, a loyal first grader, and I put the packet of seeds on a shelf…

where it sat for two weeks.

Then one morning I saw the packet and thought, “Oh yeah, we were supposed to do something with those.”

So I went outside, prepared a little patch of soil, planted the seeds, covered them up…

and then left them again.

A few more days passed before I remembered to water them.

And sure enough, within a few weeks, little green shoots began pushing up out of the dirt.

And I thought:

“She was right. Something really does come from these seeds.”

Recently I traveled to Charlotte, North Carolina.

Some of you remember I was a producer on a film about the life of Henrietta Mears.

I was reminded there of July 1958.

I was ten years old when I attended a Billy Graham crusade at the fairgrounds in Sacramento.

Dr. Graham spoke that evening, and when he gave the invitation, I was captivated by something I couldn’t fully understand.

I walked forward along with seventy or seventy-five other people responding to his invitation.

And there, Billy Graham told us:

“You have come here to die.”

That it was necessary for us to surrender our lives to the Lord Jesus Christ.

And I did.

I never forgot that moment.

He spoke of surrendering everything — all ten years of my life.

I didn’t fully understand what that meant then, but over the years I’ve come to realize it more deeply.

Jesus’ first sermon in Galilee began with these words:

“The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the Gospel.”

The Greek word for repentance — metanoia — means to turn around.

It means death to one direction and new life in another.

And our baptism becomes a sign of that death.

Now, in the Presbyterian church, we don’t immerse people underwater all that often.

Maybe some of your churches are starting to.

But whether you are sprinkled or immersed, baptism symbolizes dying to your old way of life and rising into a new one.

And this parable teaches us that this dying is not just a one-time event.

It’s a daily — even hourly — practice.

Every day God reveals parts of me that are not like Jesus.

And every day I must die to those things.

I must be buried so new life can grow.

I remember hearing a story about a revival preacher who came to town.

A woman convinced her hesitant husband to attend one of the meetings.

The evangelist preached on the theme:

“My life is an empty cup.”

And then he proclaimed:

“God has come to fill your empty cup.”

The message was so moving that the husband jumped up, ran down the aisle, and cried out:

“Fill me, Lord! Fill me!”

The pastor prayed with him, and he went home completely changed.

The next night he returned with his wife and once again ran down the aisle shouting:

“Fill me, Lord! Fill me!”

And this continued every night of the crusade.

Finally, on the last night, he once again ran forward shouting:

“Fill me, Lord! Fill me!”

And his wife followed behind him saying:

“Pastor, help this man… he leaks.”

And honestly, that’s our story too.

We come to Christ, and He faithfully fills us.

But we leak.

That’s why the Apostle Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15:

“I die every day.”

Let my fear and anxiety perish.

Let my pride and greed die.

My insecurities.

Those personal relationships pulling me down.

Bring these things before the Lord in prayer and ask:

“Lord, is this Your will for me?”

And God will reveal His answer and empower you.

Maybe there are other issues you need to surrender — your business dealings, your personal finances, even your political allegiances.

Lay it before God and ask for His scrutiny.

How does this strategy or agenda line up with the values of the Gospel?

I’m not going to answer that for you.

You can go to the Word of God, and God will speak to you.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said:

“When God calls a person, He bids him come and die.”

If we remain an unplanted seed sitting safely on the shelf, we may survive…

sort of.

But we will live a stunted, limited life.

Restricted. Predictable. Controlled.

And Jesus says some people actually love living that way.

But if we cling to that kind of life, we eventually lose even the life we have.

But the second point of the parable is this:

Life in God’s kingdom is productive.

The seed that dies is no longer just a seed.

Jesus said:

“If it dies, it bears much fruit.”

The seed becomes something entirely new.

A juicy pear. An orange. Even a full tree.

When we eat a delicious pear, we don’t say:

“What a delicious seed.”

Because the seed has become something different.

That’s what happens when we grow up in Christ.

Paul says in Romans 6:

“Therefore we have been buried with Him by baptism into death, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.”

And with this new life comes fruit.

Paul names it in Galatians 5:

Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Humility. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.

This is the work of the Holy Spirit.

God blends the seed and the soil, and through us He gives the world a picture of His restored kingdom.

Not someday.

Now.

The Gospel is not merely that one day God will take us to heaven.

The Gospel is that God has already come in Jesus Christ and is restoring His kingdom through His people.

And one of the fruits of that Spirit is humility.

Humility is a low posture.

To follow Jesus begins low.

We humble ourselves before the cross.

Jesus even teaches us:

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

That runs against the values of our culture, which tells us humility is weakness.

But in the kingdom of God, the opposite is true.

I recently read a collection of stories about Vin Scully.

Two qualities came up repeatedly in people’s memories of him:

Faith and humility.

Vin Scully was a deeply devoted Christian man.

He helped lead chapel services for the players every Sunday.

I met him once in a hotel in Los Angeles shortly after beginning a new pastoral call.

I told him how much he had meant to me growing up listening to Dodgers games late at night under my pillow radio.

And he looked me in the eyes and said:

“Pastor, what you do is so much more important than what I do.”

That humility marked his life.

I also heard the story of a woman caring for her dying father.

He was only fifty-one years old and dying of cancer.

She described rubbing his back and caring for him during his final days.

And she shared how God had recently freed her from addiction.

That new freedom allowed her to care for her father with love and compassion.

She said:

“I was free to serve with Jesus.”

That’s the kingdom of God.

Now I don’t know how God will grow the seed in your life.

And I’m not even sure what He will still do with mine.

But we both know we are called to use our lives to make life better for the people God brings our way.

In our families.

In our churches.

In our communities.

Especially among the poor, the disenfranchised, the immigrant, and the stranger.

As we do so, we join Jesus in His work.

And that transformation doesn’t happen all at once.

It’s a long journey.

Jesus said the gate is small and the road is difficult that leads to life.

But it’s the road we walk one step at a time.

Each step involves dying.

And each step involves God filling, shaping, and transforming us.

So yes — on this last Sunday of Easter — the Gospel is still good news.

God invites us to die to ourselves, step into His flow, become fruitful, and follow Jesus in the way of service.

The kingdom has come.

And you and I are invited to become partners in God’s great work of restoration.

We have a life to live and a work to do.

Won’t you join Him?

Pray with me.

Lord, these are Your words.

This is Your story.

And You have invited us into Your story — a story that shakes us to our core.

We fall before You in surrender.

Fill us, Lord.

Help us become fruitful.

Help us live with the fruit of Your Spirit.

And may our lives bear witness to Your kingdom this week.

We pray this in Jesus’ name.

Amen.