It is reported that during World War II, a young bomber pilot, just before taking off on a critical mission, lit a match in the presence of the chaplain, and, after having blown it out, asked him, "Now, tell me, man to man, is that all that happens to us when we die?" Peggy Lee, several years ago, asked something of the same question in her plaintive song: "Is this all there is?"

The question is as old as Job and those before him, "If a person die, can they live again?" And we are back again to the questions of what life is all about, what happens after death, and, indeed, what is the meaning of our existence -- questions for which answers come hard, assurances are often shallow and, all too often, we are left with that question still burning in our mouths as we bury a father, or mother, or husband, or friend -- "Is this all there is?"

We are a strange people, indeed. Living as we do in a land of affluence, where most of us want for very little, we feel compelled to develop programs that will secure our futures. With the usual American ingenuity, we have designed insurance programs that can cover almost every calamity we can name, and even some we can't. We fear our futures: What will become of me, where will I live, what is life all about anyway? But we also fear today, so we build fancy and elaborate security systems around ourselves and around our possessions.

It can be a tragic and sad life if all we see is here and now, and all our efforts must go into protecting the "stuff" we accumulate around us. Unfortunately, many people fail to grasp that life insurance policies can never really answer the basic existential questions that most of us wrestle with at sometime during our lives. But there is good news for us. Believe it or not, there is a life insurance plan available for you and me that is more comprehensive than any plan you could ever buy from an agent; there is a plan available for us that is written out so simply and clearly, that a child can grasp it, often before the parents ever can; and the best news of all -- it's free! It is a plan that, as you stand before open graves in airy cemeteries under green canopies, we read from.

 Listen: "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord ... I am the Resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die."

A life insurance plan that guarantees that life does not end. A life insurance plan that offers more security than you and I can ever imagine; more peace of mind now and for those left standing beside graves years after dirt is piled on caskets.

Here is the good news for us. Our God loves us so much that he sent his son, Jesus the Christ, who died on a cross for us and rose to new life three days later so that we might have new life now and in the future. The life insurance plan is free for us: the premium was already paid by Jesus with his own life! It is not a cheap plan. It cost our Lord; but it is complete and comprehensive and free, and offered to all of us. So, Peggy Lee, sing your song and ask your question: "Is this all there is?" As for me, I'll live my life under God's life insurance plan, not because it's free, but because God gave it to me -- signed, sealed, and delivered by Jesus the Christ.

Now, I have trouble understanding why more folks don't "buy into" this plan for their lives. And I'm not talking necessarily about people outside of the walls and fellowship of our churches. If they haven't accepted this good news maybe it's more our fault than theirs. Maybe we haven't told the story clearly and plainly enough, or often enough. Maybe we haven't lived the story we tell. They see us talk of love and fellowship and caring for one another, and then they see us fight over whether we should serve wine or grape juice for communion, or fighting over who's in and who's out of the kingdom as if that is our decision, or they see us fighting over whether we like the pastor or not.

Maybe we haven't lived the story we tell -- we talk of love, and live in unlove; we talk of trust and live in quiet solitude; we talk of unity and live in division. But I can understand this. We are all sinners and our fellowship will reflect that from time to time. We must work at this forgiveness and grace stuff. No, my problem is not with those out there for whom the gospel, the good news, is unclear. My problem is with those who have heard and yet fail to grasp the message for them.

To put it into the framework of this sermon -- those who want to write their own life insurance plans because they can't or won't accept the one God offers them in Christ. Somehow, the good news can't be received as good news. To put it even more plainly: I have trouble understanding why anyone would want to work out their own salvation, to work and sweat and struggle and fret to get into the kingdom of God. We are saved by what he did, not by what we try to do! It's God's grace, his unconditional love for us, that is our life insurance plan, and all we have to do to have it is accept it as the gift it is.

Well. Maybe that is our problem: We don't know how to accept gifts. Somewhere along the line we are taught that it's not polite to accept gifts without putting up some kind of fuss, "Oh, no, I couldn't accept that. You shouldn't have." And all the time, in the back of our minds we're thinking, "Why is she doing this? Why am I getting this gift? What does he want from me? I'd better be careful, there's got to be a string attached here somewhere. If I take this, then I'm going to have to give something back in return and I really don't have time today to go shopping." And on and on, our untrusting, selfish little minds go.

Why can't we be like children? Ever see a child accept a gift? No hedging there -- eyes light up as if a thousand lights had been turned on in the head; smiles stretch farther than the limitations of face and ears would seem to allow; eager hands reach out and acceptance is immediate and real and wonderful. No complications. No internal wrestling. No guilt. Maybe we can take a lesson there as we hear the good news offered to us.

You know, after reading the gospel lesson from John 10 over and over again this week, I discovered that people back in Jesus' time had trouble too with accepting who Jesus was. Here Jesus was walking around on Solomon's porch in the temple at Jerusalem on the day of the Feast of Dedication. At this festive occasion, called the Festival of Lights, Jesus was standing in this portico of the east side of the temple. And, inquirers sought him out and asked him about whether he was the Messiah or not. It was not a question asked in honest sincerity or truth. He had been showing them all along and they still came and wanted more proof before they could accept it. And Jesus answered them: "I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father's name testify to me."

And there lies the tragedy which is unbelief: "I have told you, and you do not believe." Jesus had announced the good news in word and deed, in miracle and teaching, on hillside and in temple, and still, people could not believe. In contrast to those who wanted to make God's love something we must earn by adherence to law after law, ritual after ritual, Jesus claimed that God loved even the sinner. It was the righteous, the religious of Jesus' day who had trouble hearing that as good news. They had developed a whole system designed around earning God's love. They somehow could not grasp the truth that God was greater than their systems, and more loving than they could ever imagine. So they rejected Jesus and his teachings.

So what say you? We have heard the good news time and time again from this pulpit and church. What say you? Maybe we need to hear the children sing again, "Jesus loves me," for there is the message as simple as the gift is for us. Amen.