You must already know this: pastors are geeks. When I talk with friends from seminary, what we are preaching is always a hot topic. My friend Julia is a chaplain at a Minneapolis hospital, and when she asked me what I was preaching on this week, all I could remember was Jeremiah. "You know," I said, "the heart thing." As it turns out, Julia is assigned to the cardiac unit. She has a whole new understanding of hearts. She told me that patients who prepare themselves spiritually for heart surgery recover more quickly, and she also shared some technical insights. For instance, some surgeries require that the heart be stopped, during which time the patient's blood is moved through the body by an electric pump. Almost as if the person was dead. When surgery is over, the heart is started up again with an electrical shock. In the midst of this, there is that healing mystery that occurs when people prepare by talking with God about the meaning of what will happen to their hearts. Julia's descriptions seemed pertinent in this season of life and death. Everywhere you look lately is new life. More green shades than humans seem capable of perceiving, each one shouting to the newness of life. New lambs and calves bounding in pastures, flowers bursting, birds making a noisome din in the woods. Even my dead-stick fuchsia plants have leaves. New life everywhere! After a Lent pointing to our spiritual death, calling for repentance, finally even the scripture texts move towards life. But not until they pass through death.

We had an intensely spiritual week at the beach with my aunt and uncle. Our God talks would get so intense that we would almost slip past meal times. Almost. Because we were led by the daily lectionary, what seemed uppermost in our minds was life and death. One day our so-called "quiet time" focused on having to go through death in order to grow in Christ. There is nothing like a shared family history to strike a chord. What we recognized in ourselves, as we saw it in each other, was how we try to earn salvation. One of the devotions said that working hard at salvation was a lie invented out of fear of death by our "mediocre" parts. For a family that prided itself on working harder and longer than anyone else, to hear that it is the "mediocre," the not-Christ in us that overworks out of fear of death-that was hard to bear. As it turns out, salvation is not about how good we are at spiritual disciplines or how hard we work. Salvation is about God. Jesus knew that! When Jesus wrestles in today's gospel lesson with the "why" of his incarnation, knowing glory would only come after he died and was raised, his agony stops when he remembers he is about glorifying God. Not himself.

You may have heard that last Tuesday was set aside to pray for George Bush. I didn't get the email, either. The religious community was asked to pray that George Bush would live as if he had no fear. I think we can continue to pray this, even if the "official" day is past. But, just so you know, the result of living "without fear" is not arrogance. Nor is it psychological warfare or recklessness. To live without fear is to live in faith, to live as if there is nothing left to lose. To live as if you already know that everything belongs to God. This is what happens to Jesus before our eyes in today's gospel lesson. Jesus says his soul is troubled-that's Biblish for "scared to death"-but it's the last time in this gospel that Jesus is scared. Jesus owns the reason for his coming. As he ponders whether to continue on, he says, "No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour." In the simple statement that he has come to glorify God, he accepts his purpose. No matter what. He is without fear, because he knows there is nothing left to lose. He knows to whom he belongs. This is the source of his living without fear, as it is the source of ours.

This is what makes it possible to live without fear-we know to whom all things belong, and that we belong to that One. There is nothing left to lose. When we pray for George Bush to live as one without fear, we pray not for aggression and arrogance in diplomacy and military action. We pray that he recognizes that war and peace, life and death, all belongs to the One who created all and to whom all things are subjected. Even (and maybe especially) him. It is what I pray for you as well as for myself. Which is why Jeremiah can announce salvation before the stuff happens from which the people will need to be saved. Which is why Jesus can be so convinced of the results of what he is about to do, namely that the ruler of this world is driven out, that he speaks as if it is an accomplished fact, even though he hasn't yet done what will make it happen. This is the essence of the new covenant God has written on our hearts-the covenant that says, "I am yours and you are mine." It's God's law, all right. But it's not the law that says, "This is what you've got to do." It's our heart that says, "This is what I get to do." Can you imagine yourself accepting salvation with such open hands that you can believe you are already acting like you get to instead of you got to? This is the most elemental meaning of the covenant that says, "I am yours and you are mine." But doesn't this make God's new covenant sound like life will be duck soup? If the covenant's in our hearts, we'll automatically do the God stuff, right? If that's true, why is it so hard to be a Christian? Why is it so hard to live into Christ-likeness? Why does Jesus say we have to "die" to be disciples? Because it is a rule of nature that from death comes more life. Look at seeds: one apple seed, fifty years of apple crops. Look at leaves falling from trees, turning into dirt from which more seedlings sprout. Look at caterpillars: dead as worms, alive with wings! Look at yourself. Haven't you noticed that when you've given away personal time and energy to help others, that you have found a greater capacity to love, a more lovable you? It is death to give up being the center of the universe, but when we give up the me/me/me to focus on God, we come to life.

Well, it's about time! Suddenly, it is possible to "live without fear." But it does involve death. Being so secure in your relationship with God that other stuff is just a technicality requires changing our focus from ourselves. It's like a death. Letting go of the good old ways. One Sunday when I was serving my seminary internship, during the prelude I realized I was terrified I might mess up the worship service again. I was nearly paralyzed. Suddenly I thought, this will be the last worship service I'll ever lead, because this afternoon I will quit seminary. This gave me such relief. It took me completely out of the picture. I was so sick of what I might do. All I had to do was point to God. I never got around to quitting because it was no longer about me. Living "without fear" makes life more alive. The teasing of other kids doesn't hurt so much when you know you are already loved. The sense of guilt doesn't paralyze when you know you are already forgiven. It's easier to do good and helpful things when you don't do them to earn love, but because you already love. As Christians, we believe that all of life is a gift from God, that in life and in death we belong to God. But like Jesus, we don't get to the new life until we move through death. Death to that frantic sense of ourselves at the center of the universe. Death to the mediocre part that thinks you have to earn love. Moving to life in that new heart covenant that says, "I am yours and you are mine." Life and death. It's about time we move to life.