In 1972 my father-in-law began a physical descent in life that culminated in his death ten years later. He managed this descent with a combination of grace and stoical endurance. He continued to write revisions of the economic textbook he authored despite the fact that powerful drugs only allowed him to sleep every other night. He never gave way to bitterness and he embraced his family with an ever-deepening appreciation and joy.

Imagine my surprise then when one morning while watching the Today Show he exploded into a barrage of expletives. We were watching a segment documenting the amazing life of a 95-year-old man who still jogged several miles in Golden Gate Park. It infuriated my father-in-law. As he said apologetically later "We only honor elderly people who are wonder kids. Most of us can't be that way you know."

You and I live in a culture that honors and worships ascent. We love Lance Armstrong for ascending out of cancer to become a world cycling champion. We praise people of great stature in every field, especially if they have overcome unfavorable backgrounds- American Idols all. We love the poor girl become glamorous or the poverty-raised boy turned millionaire. The Horatio Alger myth lives.

Ascent requires many of the Puritan virtues- hard work, thrift, single-mindedness, and discipline. This makes New England Congregationalist happy. There are, of course, some distinctly unpuritan virtues involved as well. Ask Ken Lay of Enron. Nevertheless we live in a society that honors ascent.

My friend David Maitland loves to remind us that Carl Jung constructed a whole theory on this idea: the morning of life needs to be centered on getting and growing and spending in every dimension of life. Jung then continues by reminding us that we then move in the afternoon of life. Here we need to shed, to descend, and to let go; to seek wisdom not success, to seek surrender not achievement; giving not getting. First, ascend to the heights then descend to the depths. Jung based this construct on eastern faith and religions but it makes sense for every one.

I was taken by the story of the woman reporter who sent back story after story from Afghanistan. She was lauded and appeared to be well on her way to the heights of reporting for her paper. Then she faced a moment of clarity. She refused the promotion, donned Afghan robes and veil and began rebuilding an Afghan town. It was not an easy road for a woman in that country but slowly and surely she has brought the village back to life. She moved rather dramatically from ascent in her profession to descent- into self-giving service and wisdom- from the morning to the afternoon of life.

I suppose this is what lies behind our reading from the book of Hebrews this morning. It lists unnamed people for whom embracing Christ turned their life from ascent to descent. It lists the acts of martyrs, many of whom met grisly ends in witnessing for the faith. It makes the torture in Iran seem tame. They passed into descent- the descent of martyrdom. It was not the natural way Jung describes. It came as the result of deciding to follow Christ. It may, have, in fact, prematurely interrupted ascent in many of their lives.

Now up to this point I find myself wanting to avoid Christianity. I am risk-averse. The safe way is the best way in my mind. So don't talk to me about martyrdom, suffering and descent.

Then I come across these words in the 12^th chapter of Hebrews:

It appears some joy exists even in the midst of descent and I wonder what it is.

I think the joy arises out of a sense of ultimate belovedness. God grounds us in God's unconditional love. I think of Deitrich Bonhoeffer. Apprehended for attempting the assassination of Adolph Hitler, confined to prison, and executed just before liberation Bonhoeffer wrote this poem:

Who Am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell's confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a squire from his country house

Who Am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders,
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.

Who Am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat
yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who Am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved.

Who Am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine,
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine.

Two things stand out here. First, humility permeates the poem. He is not sure who he is. He knows the discontinuity between public presentation and the inner confusion of his soul. No self-justification appears in this poem.

Then consider his trust. He places his confidence in a deeper mercy. He throws himself on a fuller love. Perhaps this is the love that allows us to endure.

I think all of us touch this reality more than we know. We possess the capacity to put away defensiveness, to stop making excuses for ourselves. We can let the truth be known and accept the consequences of what follows.

I recently read the report of what happens to whistle-blowers in the US Government. Fifty percent of them lose their job. 50 percent of those lose their home and financial security and another 50 percent of those lose their family. In short over 10 percent go into total descent.

Our scripture reminds us that letting truth be known opens us to a joy that can endure a cross. Consciously or unconsciously we participate in a deep layer of grace that allows us to endure descent. I hope whistle-blowers can enter that reality, and know that reality.

My father was a tough old bird. Much of his toughness came from a hard and difficult childhood- the loss of two parents and the puritanical discipline of a stern, withholding, and Methodist aunt. He used his toughness to get ahead in the world- to ascend. Ascending requires toughness. He became a rather successful businessman. He supported his family in a comfortable way.

After fifty he began to descend. He became a skilled churchman. He abandoned a strict and severe Methodist upbringing for a grace-filled life in Lutheranism. In his descent his heart began to open and he found a measure of joy he had not known before. His last years, living with us he displayed an appreciation and gentle acceptance of life. At one point he was able to say to me "You are a wonderful son." Descent for him was not a tragedy but a blessing, even a joy.

Our scripture reminds us that for the joy that was set before him Jesus endured the Cross. We get enough glimpses of that joy in life that we can dare to trust God whether ascending and descending.