Cliff Loesch February 3, 2008 Luke 2:25-35 Looking for Something      There was a will found in the pocket of an old coat belonging to Charles Lounsberry after his death.  Barbara Boyd wrote in the Washington Law Reporter that the man had been a lawyer.  This unusual will was sent to another attorney who was so impressed with the will that he read it before the Chicago Bar Association.  A resolution was passed ordering the will probated and it is now on the records of Cook County Illinois.  I'd like to read a few excerpts of the will.  It says, "I, Charles Lounsberry, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, do hereby make and publish this my Last Will and Testament, in order, as justly as may be, to distribute my interests in the world among succeeding men.  That part of my interests which is known in law and recognized in the sheep-bound volumes as my property, being inconsiderable and of no account, I make no disposition of in this, my Will.  My right to live, being but a life estate, is not at my disposal, but, these things excepted, all else in the world I now proceed to devise and bequeath."   If I may paraphrase what he just said, it was something like this: "Whatever property I may own isn't that important-but here are a whole lot of important things that I want to leave to everyone."  And he began by saying, "I give to good fathers and mothers, in trust to their children, all good little words of praise and encouragement, and all quaint pet names and endearments; and I charge said parents to use them justly, but generously, as the deeds of their children shall require."  In the next item of his will he said, "I leave to children inclusively … all, and every, the flowers of the field, and the blossoms of the woods, with the right to play among them freely according to the custom of children…  And I leave the children the long, long days to be merry in a thousand ways, and the night and the moon and the train of the Milky Way to wonder at…"  Next, he left to boys and girls "all pleasant waters where one may swim, all snow-clad hills where one may coast [and many other things]."  To lovers he left "the stars of the sky, the red roses by the wall, the bloom of the hawthorn, the sweet strains of music…"  And to young people he left confidence and friendship.  And to those who are no longer children he left memory and bequeathed to them the volumes of the poems of Burns and Shakespeare.  And "To the loved ones with snowy crowns," [he bequeathed] the happiness of old age, and "the love and gratitude of their children."  http://www.inspirationpeak.com/cgi-bin/stories.cgi?record=104        On the one hand, of course you could say that none of these things were really Charles Lounsberry's to give.  The stars in the sky, the flowers in the field, encouraging words-these belong to all of us already.  On the other hand, his last will and testament represented a deep kind of longing for the way things ought to be.  It is an expression of desire that everyone could see the many gifts that are all around them, and it offers a vision of hope for the world.       Everyone lives in a state of longing.  There are simply many parts of life that are unfulfilled.  We may long for friendship or long for love, or long for healing, or long for a change in others, or for relief from inner distress.  We may long for financial stability, or a sense of security.  We may simply long for a better life.  Or our longing might be for the welfare of others-for world peace, or for an end to poverty.  But living in a state of longing seems to be part of the human condition.  And our sense of longing-or perhaps you could even call it our sense of being unfulfilled in one way or another (or it might even be many ways at once)-but this sense of longing can take us in different directions.  Our lack of fulfillment-especially if we have the sense that our longings may never be resolved-can lead to sadness or even despair.  But with these unresolved longings, we can also go another direction-in the direction of hope.       When Jesus was eight days old, Mary and Joseph took him to be presented in the Temple.  They encountered Simeon that day-and in my mind, Simeon represents what I've been talking about: living in the tension between longing and fulfillment.  Luke, chapter 2, tells us that he had been looking forward to-or longing for-the consolation of Israel.  And when Simeon saw Jesus, he held the child in his arms-and he found a sense of inspiration that this child would become the fulfillment of all he had been hoping for.  It is obvious from the text that Simeon found a sense of peace in this experience-a sense of resolution to his longings.  But I would remind you that the child was only eight days old.  Nothing had really happened yet-except birth.  Would Simeon be around thirty years later to see the beginnings of Jesus' ministry?  Probably not.  So there was a lot of faith involved on Simeon's part.  It wasn't the actual fulfillment of his longings that he experienced that day.  But it was hope.  Simeon saw something special in this child and had faith that this child was the messiah.  And this hope and this faith were the inspiration that he needed.  He might not be alive to see the actual fulfillment-but he had hope that fulfillment was still possible and that it was on the way.      There are some things in life that we long for deeply that, I regret to tell you, might never be fully resolved.  We may not see all of our longings fulfilled.  But when you realize that unfulfilled longings seem to be a universal part of the human experience-everyone has them-then is sinking into despair over them a good way to go?  I don't think so.  A better way is to keep looking for little moments of inspiration, and looking for hope.  This is the example I believe we see in Simeon.  Simeon also listened deeply for God's leading in his life.  And with this blend of keeping faith and hope alive-and also of listening for God's voice-Simeon was able to see hopeful signs and to see possibilities that other people likely could not see.      Sometimes simply seeing what is already there makes a difference.  The last will of Charles Lounsberry that I read a moment ago…it was bequeathing to all of us things that are already ours.  But often we get so wrapped up in the complicated busyness of life or we are worried and troubled by those unfulfilled longings that we miss the blessings, and the joy that is all around us.  The last will was written, I'm sure, to try to help people see the things that are already theirs.  And it was written as a way to help bring about the fulfillment of this man's deep longings-that the world could become a more joyful place and a more peaceful place.      Unfulfilled longings can be perplexing.  As I already mentioned, they can take us right into despair if we let them.  But when thinking about those longings that seem to have no fulfillment in sight, maybe there's another important point to make.  On Wednesday night, some of our youth watched and discussed a video that made the point that everything is spiritual.  I haven't personally watched the video yet but I've kept thinking about the point that was shared with me afterward: everything is spiritual.  What that means to me is that God is involved in every part of life.  And though it is difficult for me to say that every little thing or every troubling thing has a purpose in and of itself, nevertheless I can say that I believe God takes all these disparate parts and folds them into some larger purpose.  Nothing is beyond God's reach.  Nothing is outside God's concern.  And indeed the things that trouble us are a concern for God, too.  What this means is that even in the depths--and even in our deepest longings--God is with us.      I hope that we, like Simeon, can see Christ as the ultimate fulfillment of all of our longings in life.  And I also pray that Christ will minister to each one of us in all of the unfulfilled places in our lives and that he will give us those moments of inspiration that lead to hope.