Robin, Jay, Rebecca, Dustin and Whitaker; Kirk and Dan, family and friends of Gary Steinmann, today is November 22. Thus it was 65 years and 9 days ago that Carl and Betty walked through those doors and carried their little one to old Pastor Deichmann who standing at that font. Though he was so little and his life stretched forth before him bright with promise, they knew even then that this day would certainly come. They just didn’t know when. So they were determined to do what Lutheran Christians have always done: to pick up their baby and hand him over to Jesus, so that Jesus could forgive all his sins and fill him with a life so strong and powerful that death itself could not take it away from him.
And for the same reason they made sure he attended St. Paul school where the Words and promises of God were pressed into his heart and mind, and even after many years, he still valued and loved all he learned from his teachers there, including Mrs. Judy Steinmann. And then when he was 14, he himself stood before this very altar before Pr. Waldemar Hischke and spoke for himself the promises his parents made for him at his Baptism years before, and then with the laying on of hands, Pastor spoke over him the words of Matthew 5:5 (ESV) “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” The meek are not wimpy. They are strong. They know that their heavenly Father has an outsized inheritance for them, and they are content to wait for it.
As Gary grew, it became evident that he was a most precise, neat and tidy man. I suppose in some ways that was rather a combo of both Carl and Betty. I remember Carl fussing over that picture over there until the hoofs on the sheep were just so; and of course Betty was our decorator in chief for the Sausage Supper for years beyond count. He didn’t like things messed up or out of order, and I suppose that inevitably led him into the medical profession. He knew, of course, that he was facing down an enemy that he could not finally win against, but I think something deep down inside of him raged against the disorder and pain and distress that sickness and death invariably bring in their wake.
I will never forget when I rushed to the hospital after hearing that our dear Marianne Altevogt was in a bad way. She’d been having the most awful time, and Gary and the medical team had valiantly worked to save her life, but I knew when I turned the corridor and saw him leaning against the counter with a vacant look on his face, that they had lost this battle. It occurred to me as I rushed on to comfort Delmar that Gary looked like HE needed some comforting too. The mess of sickness and death. He fought it tooth and nail even knowing it was finally a losing battle.
And it was in his battles for so many patients, that he found an ally and companion in you, Robin. You spoke your vows before this altar. And you and your children brought the joyful mess of another kind into his life. I’m a dad. Ask me how I know! And yet it was a joy he would not have traded for all the world. He truly landed on his feet with a ready made family and how he loved you all!
He was actually my PA for a short time, right before he retired. I got to experience his skillful compassion and care, and because I was his pastor as well as his patient, we got to talk a bit about life’s heartaches and trials. And I could go on about him: about his love of flying; of playing the guitar; of fixing machines that were broken; of snowmobiling up north. Having a blast with life. But I think he’d be yelling at me at this point and saying: don’t forget to tell them about what really matters.
And that would be this: despite his love of perfection, Gary was NOT a perfect human being and he knew that. Whenever he gathered with the saints to worship in this room, he spoke the truth when he called himself a poor, miserable, sinner who had deserved God’s temporal and eternal punishment. He knew that truth about himself in the deep way that only a true perfectionist CAN.
But he also knew a deeper and more profound truth: that despite his sin, he was loved and had a Redeemer, whose blood had answered for his every failing. If HE had failed to be perfect, Jesus had NOT and that Jesus had given that perfect righteousness to him right there in that font. Gary knew he would never be able to pass muster before God based on his own perfection. He clung for dear life to the perfection of Another, of His Savior. And that Savior promised him life everlasting as a free and undeserved gift.
So when I brought the Sacrament to Gary shortly before he died, I reminded him of why his parents had handed him over to Jesus when he was not even a month old. They knew who had eternal life and who didn’t. By the time I saw Gary, to use St. Paul’s analogy, his tent was wearing out. He had become skin and bones (even worse than when the tree fell on him) and he knew that the time for “putting off” his earthly tent was fast approaching. He made his confession again and then received the medicine of immortality. He received it with the promise of Jesus that whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, will never perish, and sweetest of all: and I will raise him up on the last day. Raise him up to receive that inheritance of the new heavens and new earth that Pastor Hischke had spoken of to him on the day of his confirmation.
I don’t think I’ve ever known such a long time to pass between a death and burial and interment. But it serves as a good reminder that while Gary’s spirit has been commended into the hands of the heavenly Father, he’s in the waiting room we call heaven. You see, what God has in store for him (for you and me too) isn’t DONE when we die, nor when we go to heaven. There’s more. And that’s what Gary’s waiting for now with all the forgiven sinners who are gathered together in the presence of the Lamb. They are waiting for the day when the One who was nailed to the cross, pouring out His blood to cover the sin of the world; when the One who was put into a tomb to sanctify our graves; when the One who was raised in a body incorruptible on that first Easter morning; when the One who has ascended into heaven and sits at His Father’s right hand…they’re waiting for the day when HE appears again in glory. For then it will all be done. Perfection at last.
Gary’s body raised in the same incorruption as Jesus’ own and united again with his soul: so that the full person is wholly healed, wholly restored. It’s no pipe dream. Gary knew that. He knew the One who had already passed that way and who promised him that “because I live, you will live too.” A body and soul finally made perfect, forever beyond the grip of the grave. He’s still waiting for that day with Carl and Betty, with all the saints, so that “what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.” And we wait for it too, and as we wait we pray: “Though my flesh awaits its raising still my soul continues praising. I am baptized into Christ. I’m a child of paradise.” Amen.
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