Here’s a sermon from Marta Poling-Schmitt, preached remotely from Las Vegas in April of 2020, on Good Friday.
It starts with a description of her last meeting with Pastor Steve Larson in 1997.
Text of the sermon follows:
Good Friday Service Meditation
Pastor Marta Poling Schmitt
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
It was April of 1997. My husband, David, and I were in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, visiting a very dear friend of ours. He was in the hospital for what would be a period of 40 days and 40 nights. It was the tail end of a journey that had begun 10 years earlier with the diagnosis of melanoma. Steve Larson, a Lutheran pastor, was 40 years old when he was first diagnosed.
I had met Steve and his wife, Joyce, as a 7 th grader when he served as an Intern Pastor at my home congregation, Ascension Lutheran Church. He taught the 7 th grade confirmation class in which I was a student. And I was so inspired by Steve and Joyce that I considered them major influencers in my decision to go into ministry. They named their first born daughter, Marta, after me. Since those days, our families had been well connected. Dave and I vacationed with them at their cabin in northern Wisconsin.
But this particular spring was not a happy one. For Steve’s melanoma had returned with a vengeance when he turned 50! It had spread throughout his body. He had been married to Joyce for over 25 years and the congregation he served in northern Wisconsin had just celebrated the 25 th anniversary of his ordination. Steve and Joyce were the parents of four children, between the ages of 8 th grade and college. Dave and I drove from Chicago to Milwaukee to see Steve. We knew that it would likely be the last time that we would see him on earth. And it was. We stayed for a while in his hospital room. During our visit, we asked him if he wanted us to read Scripture with him and to pray. He asked for us to read Psalm 22. It begins… “My God, my God, why have your forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, for the words of my groaning?” This Psalm of Lament goes on to plea for deliverance from suffering and hostility.
After reading the Psalm, we had a candid conversation with this wonderful man…a pastor who had faithfully served congregations for 25 years from ordination to now. It was a painful, raw, and very real conversation about life, death, and faith. We prayed together with Steve before we left his hospital room and promised to see each other again… in heaven.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” These were the last words Jesus spoke before his death. It was three in the afternoon and he had been dying a tortured death on a Roman cross. Jesus, a faithful Jew, knew these words of lament from Psalm 22. During the worst day of his life, he recounted them as had so many of his ancestors had before him. Even though it rattles us to hear these words from his mouth, there is something strangely comforting to us. Jesus, who was with God when the creation began…Jesus, was God’s chosen Son…Jesus, who was God himself, was also very human. Divine, yet human. And in these words we hear the very real human side of this supernatural Savior. He understands despair, fear, loneliness, and abandonment.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” A lot of people may be asking the same question right now. We are in a strange, unprecedented period of time when the whole world, every person, is facing their…our… mortality. A microscopic virus has brought the world, most industry, and entire nations to a standstill. Because of this virus, thousands of people across the planet have died. Many more who don’t deserve to die, will lose their lives. And because we live in a city whose primary industry is tourism and hospitality, unprecedented numbers of Nevadans have filed for unemployment benefits. Our hospital systems and those who care for our health are taxed in the most extreme ways possible. There is anxiety, depression, fear, and suffering all around us. And it is easy to get caught in the snare of these emotional responses to a real threat.
But, on this Good Friday, even as we ponder these words from Psalm 22, I want to remind you that our Bible is full of God’s promises of hope and trust. In our darkest moments, we don’t have to cling to despair, but can choose to embrace the goodness of a God we can trust.
Psalm 46 reminds us:
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult.
Psalm 91 says:
You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress; my God in whom I trust.” For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence; he will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.
You will not fear the terror of the night, or the arrow that flies by day, or the pestilence that stalks in darkness, or the destruction that wastes at noonday.
Because you have made the LORD your refuge, the Most High your dwelling place, no evil shall befall you, no scourge come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone. Those who love me, I will deliver; I will protect those who know my name, When they call to me,
I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them.”
Friends, we will all go through “the valley of the shadow of death.” But, the difference for people of faith is that we don’t go through troubles alone. Our God is a good God who promises to rescue and deliver us. Trust in the God you know. In these tough times, repeat the promises of Scripture. And don’t forget Jesus’ parting words before his ascension: “Remember, I will be with you always to the end of this age” (Matt.28:20).
Marta was also nice enough to include some of her personal photos from days gone by, including a Christmas card sent by our family in the mid-1990’s and some pictures of Steve and Dave (and little Ross?) at the cabin in the 1980’s:
