How Gramma Died of Pneumonia

Most grandmothers are the kind who dote on and spoil their grandchildren. They always have some candy in their purses and like to sit down and visit with their little grandchildren. A trip to grandmother’s house is exciting when you are young, especially when she has so many treasures from a long time ago. 

            It would be safe to say that grandmothers are sweet, kindly, caring ladies who typically say, “Have another cookie.” Their greatest pleasure is to feed you.

            Most grandmothers are like that. Your experience may be different than what I have just described. Your grandmother may not have been the loving and affectionate type. 

            I want to tell you a story about a Gramma who did not seem so kindly. She was, in fact, a stern, strict old lady. In her house there were rules for everything. And one did not expect to be fed or served unless certain expectations were met, and met precisely. Going into Gramma’s purse was like taking your life into your own hands, if your hands survived the experience.

            One hot July summer Gramma’s three grandchildren came to stay with her on her little hobby farm. The farm was pretty as a picture, perfectly manicured in every way. A small orchard of apple trees graced the outer limits of her acreage. Other fruit trees and a vegetable garden grew within the confines of the heavily treed yard. Winding its way through the center of the little farmyard was a tiny creek with a bridge spanning its progress. Oak trees perfect for climbing and building forts in dotted the landscape. It should have been paradise for children imprisoned in the life of the big city.

            From the city came these three young siblings. The three grandchildren, a boy, a girl, and another boy (one of each), were named Murray, Kathy, and … (can you guess?)… Darren. All were under the age of ten and full of energy befitting their years. 

            Without so much as a “Welcome here” or “I am so glad you came to stay with me,” Gramma gruffly began to explain her expectations for their stay.

            “There are a number of rules I expect you to follow while you live with me and breaking those rules will make me extremely unhappy.” This Gramma was not the type to be shy about spanking and disciplining her grandchildren. 

            She continued to list the dos and don’ts of life on the farm: “Do not touch the apples in the orchard. They are not ready for eating and I plan to make pies and pastries with them at the end of summer. Don’t get it into your heads to use them as baseballs…just don’t touch them at all.

            “Secondly, I expect you three to keep the yard neat and tidy. You will do chores and help me around the house. 

            “While in the house do not touch Gramma’s things. Do not touch my glass menageries or my cat ornaments (every Grandmother has some kind of collectible that is fragile and oh so irresistible for touching). 

            “Do not touch my apple peeler. It’s off limits because if it breaks I have no way except by hand to peel all those apples for my pies.

            “Laughing and yelling will not be tolerated. My ears are very sensitive and laughter is frivolous anyways. Only fools find it necessary to laugh their heads off day in and day out.”

            Gramma went on and on with her rules. As children are apt to be when found in unfamiliar surroundings they were quite shy and very attentive to what Gramma was saying. Though daunting in terms of the number of rules, the children politely and quietly agreed to the obedience of these rules.

            However, as the days began to pass and days turned into weeks, summer days being what they are with warmth and sunshine, and the tedium of chores mixed with routine, the children began to grow comfortable and bored. Their sense of comfort with Gramma and her rules bred courage and mischievousness since, after all, they were children. Something had to give. 

            One morning when Murray and little Darren were near the orchard they got into an argument. Over what does not matter since boredom lends itself to frustration and frustration to anger. Murray spied some of the little apples on one of the trees and promptly plucked one and fired it at Darren. It exploded on Darren’s rump in a cool splatter of shards, or so Murray thought. Darren was not one of those kids likely to cry and run to Gramma, especially this Gramma, so he grabbed an apple and flung it at Murray. He missed but it too exploded against a tree. Without much provocation a war broke out. And it was fun.

            Meanwhile, since Gramma was out of the house, Kathy also succumbed to boredom. She noticed the gears of the apple peeler and wondered how it worked. Finding an unripe apple she tested the mechanism. That worked well, she thought. What about an orange? Not as good but interesting. Then Kathy spied a candle in the shape of an apple. Yes that made a fine pile of wax. What about that marble cat ornament Gramma had in the kitchen. It probably would not work. But being a little girl of curious nature and mind, she gave it a try. Oops, it jammed, and she could not pry it loose. 

            Back in the orchard the little apples had all been picked and so the boys turned to the larger apples. They erupted in greater explosions anyways. Into the midst of the fray came Kathy seeking help for her cat-apple peeler problem. She nearly became collateral damage as an apple narrowly missed her but did manage to splatter her. In a fit of temper she leaped at both Murray and Darren knocking all three into the little creek. They emerged quite muddy but not at all satiated. 

            Kathy ran to the house with the boys in pursuit. Busting into the door the boys were almost upon her when they stumbled into the china cabinet containing various glass pieces. 

            This whole time Gramma had not been in earshot of the battle but now suddenly realized she should check on things. The first thing she saw was the embattled little orchard. Her blood began to boil. Then she heard the commotion in the house. Hurrying as fast as she could she entered the house to find an even greater disaster. 

            On the floor lay her precious ornaments in thousands of pieces. Her spotless house no longer spotless; her rugs smeared in mud; her perfect world no longer perfect. And there with wide eyes peeking out from dirty faces were her disobedient grandchildren. 

            Gramma had laid out the rules clearly, even rehearsing them from time to time with the children, but they still disobeyed. In a movement of controlled anger she gathered the boys by the scruff of their shirts and firmly grabbed the little girl by the arm and went out the front door. Rules were rules. We live by rules and everything goes to shambles if rules are broken, she muttered to herself. There must be consequences. 

            The little party crossed the tiny bridge spanning the creek. They were on their way to the woodshed where a hearty spanking was about to be meted out. Their little bottoms would be too raw to sit upon after this experience, she thought.But as the foursome neared the shed a mighty wind descended upon the little farm. Its cold fingers wrapped around them and soaked into their very bones. As the wind swirled about it took their breath away. Some would say that it was a twister that ravaged and beat upon the group and the yard. 

            Abandoning the punishment, Gramma hurried everyone back to the house for safety. In the shelter of the cellar, though damp and dark, Gramma began to cough a little. 

            The wind passed over and left more damage than the three little hurricanes mustered. But the summer heat returned in the following days and if not for the broken trees the horror of the twister was forgotten. And Gramma coughed a little more.

            Despite the heat of the August days Gramma felt cold. Her cough grew worse and her lungs rattled with every fit. It was odd to think that the wind could affect her this way but in truth the hard life and rigorous work of the farm had taken its toll on Gramma. And the wind simply pushed her over the edge.

            Gramma died of pneumonia in late August. And with her all the strict rules died too. No more “don’t touch” rules afflicted the children. That cranky old lady… she did seem mean…was gone. And the children went home to await the funeral.

            In mid-September, Murray, Kathy and Darren begged their parents to go back to the little farm one last time. Upon reflection and a survey of the havoc they had wreaked on Gramma’s farm, the children agreed that perhaps Gramma’s rules were not so bad after all. Considering the state of things, the broken apples rotting in the orchard, the overgrown yard, and the uncharacteristically messy house, rules were necessary they thought.

            As they stood in the last remnants of the summer sun a cool autumn wind swept down and tickled the bare flesh of their cheeks and arms. That change of season which makes us get busy, that realization that summer is over and it’s time to work, and the impulse, not driven by guilt, but memories of Gramma in a better light, drove them to action. 

            The children cleaned up the orchard; they tidied the house; they even made pies with mother’s help. Not because they had to, or because Gramma was standing with a stern eye behind them, but because they wanted to. 

            It is likely that even Gramma would have been pleased. And that is the story of how Gramma died of pneumonia.

 

A MIGHTY PAUSE

The Punchline of the Story

 

So what is the punch line of this story? When Jesus told parables it was not uncommon for the disciples to pull Jesus aside and ask “What does this mean?” 

            The name “Gramma” is actually the Greek word for “letter” or the “letter of the law” as in Romans 7:6. As the Jews understood it, “gramma,” was the written word as an external authority. It was the Law of Moses as the written code for life and conduct over their lives. 

            At times it was oppressive because no one could do all that it said. In fact, Paul had earlier said that the law was given so that sin would increase. And where sin increased, the grace of God increased all the more, so for those who believe in Jesus Christ they could not out-sin grace (5:20-21). 

            Was the law useless or unspiritual because it caused sin to increase? No, for Paul later writes that the law is holy, it is righteous and good (7:12). If the law is good and we do not throw it away, then what do we do with it?

            The other code word in the Gramma story is “pneumonia.” It is a play on the Greek word “pneuma.” In the NT “pneuma” can mean wind, breath, the spirit, spirit or the Holy Spirit depending on its context. In Romans 7 it refers to that which is affected or governed by the Spirit and is opposite of gramma. It is from pneuma that we get our word pneumonia. So both pneumonia and the wind in our story represent the Holy Spirit.

            Our key verse then from Romans 7:6 reads, “But now we have been released from the Law, having died to that by which we were bound, so that we serve in the newness of the Spirit (pneuma) and not in the oldness of the letter (gramma)” (NASB). 

            In the story, pneumonia killed Gramma, or the Spirit overcame the law that condemned us. This is the principle Paul had in mind when he contrasted the old covenant, which was based on the “letter” (gramma), the written code, and the new covenant which is one of Spirit (pneuma). For now with the coming of Christ a new age has dawned, the age of the Holy Spirit. And the Spirit writes God’s law on our hearts.     The Lord said through Jeremiah, “I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people” (Jeremiah 31:33). In other words, the law will not be external and oppressive but internal and motivational. The Holy Spirit will prompt us to want to obey the law instead of obligating us as it did before. 

            Why do we serve God now? Not because the law forces us to, but because Christ loved us so extremely and we want to serve him. Not because obedience leads to salvation, but because salvation leads to obedience. The Holy Spirit helps us to serve God in this way.

            The story of how Gramma died of pneumonia is not perfect. I admit there are holes in it. But the principle of truth is in it. Paul’s principle in Romans 7 is this: death frees us from the law.  

            Another passage of scripture that emphasizes this reality is in Galatians. “You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather serve one another in love. The entire law is summed up in a single command: “Love your neighbor as yourself,”” (Gal 5:13-14). And Romans 13:10 tells us that love is the fulfillment of the law. 

             

            So you are not under law, but under grace, the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. By his Spirit Gramma died and we are free to obey the law of love.

 

                                                            AMEN