"I don’t like the ending," she said as she closed her book, "and so I’m not going to read the rest."

This didn’t sound like my daughter Rebecca who loved to read books—from beginning to end—preferably without interruption.

And so I asked her why?

She said how much she had enjoyed reading Spindle’s End by Robin McKinley. But, then as she neared the last few pages, she realized she did not like how it was ending. "I don’t like how the story is ending. I wouldn’t have ended it that way. So I’m just not going to read it." And with that, she tucked it away in her backpack and she was off to school.

As I watched the school bus pull away, I thought about her words. She had stumbled on something that is true for all of us, I think. We don’t always like endings. Especially those that are unplanned, unwelcomed, or not under our control. We don’t always like how the story ends. If we had a say, we wouldn’t have ended it that way.

My study-leave a couple weeks ago ended abruptly with the news of Christian’s fall (here at church choir—little did I know choir was such a dangerous sport!) and his leg in a cast for a month. Not how I would have written it.

You know what I mean?

A disagreement leads to disputes leads to distance leads to divorce. Not an ending we ever wanted.

A diagnosis leads to treatment leads to pain and suffering leads to death. We don’t like the ending.

Just one choice leads to another and another and another and our story is changed forever. Not an ending we could have ever imagined.

A beloved Pastor leaves the church after six short years. Not how we—or I—would have written it, at all.

We don’t always like endings.

But, the truth is, life is full of endings—some we plan, some we don’t. Some we welcome, some we don’t. Some under our control, some not. Some we like, some we don’t. The hardest thing about endings is that they signal that a time we knew and loved is now over and gone. The story concludes with THE END.

But, as I thought about endings this week—and I’ve thought about them a lot—I had a hard time thinking about an ending without also seeing a beginning.

The end of the school year is also the beginning of summer vacation.

The end of 12^th grade is commencement, the beginning of college or work.

The end of a career is the beginning of retirement.

The end of a pregnancy, is all goes well, is the beginning of a new life, a baby to have and hold.

The end of surgery or treatments is hopefully, the beginning of new and improved health.

The end of a long trying ordeal is the beginning of a stronger self.

The end of life is the beginning of eternal life with God.

The end of a chapter in a church’s life is the beginning of a new chapter.

With every ending, there is a new beginning. Beginnings are often resisted at first, tolerated after awhile, and then eventually embraced, in time. A beginning comes at the end of something. Endings and beginnings necessarily go together.

The Scripture lesson today comes at the end of the Bible, the end of the New Testament, the end of the last book of Revelation. And yet, in the end, is a beginning.

These are powerful words of promise. In them, we see a vision of heaven, when there will be no more endings, all will be made new and right and good. But, in these words, we also see that the Author of the story of life is called the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. That is, the one who was at the beginning of time, creating and bringing forth new life, is the same one who will be at the end, bringing forth new eternal life. That is to say, the one who is at our beginnings, full of energy and spirit and grace, is the same one who is at our endings, full of comfort and strength and hope, thus enabling us to go onto the next beginning. And so it continues, the cycle of life, beginning and ending, and beginning again. And God is here among us, making all things new, making us new.

Eventually, later that day, Rebecca did finish her book, all the way to the end. She admitted that although she would have written it differently, the book’s ending wasn’t so bad after all. "And plus," she said with great excitement, "now that I’m finished with that book I can begin a new one!"

Before John Wurster left, he talked about having helped write a chapter in the story of First Presbyterian Church. It was a good chapter, a short chapter perhaps, but a full and faithful chapter nonetheless. But, it is only one chapter of a long story, a long legacy of faithfulness. Now the story of our church is begging to be continued. The Author of all stories is waiting to begin again. All we need do is turn the page. Let one chapter end, so that another new one can begin. Then we can see that God is at work among us, making all things new. Still. Always.

This past year, I lost a dear friend. My seminary internship pastor Brent Dugan committed suicide. After 18 faithful years of service to the Community Presbyterian Church in Ben Avon, Pennsylvania, his service and his life came to an unexpected end. The people of the church were shocked and hurt. It was an ending no one wanted. Not an ending anyone could have imagined. Anyone who knew him and loved him would have written it differently.

Pastor Jean Henderson was called to lead them through the initial days of healing. To this congregation, to those who could not imagine a new beginning, she wrote this (in the church newsletter called "Revelations"):

Years ago I discovered remarks by King George VI of England. It was 1939—war time for them—and he addressed his people with these words:

"We are at the New Year. We cannot tell what it will bring. If it brings peace, how thankful we shall be. If it brings us continued struggle, as it no doubt will, we must remain undaunted. In the meantime, we may all find encouragement in these lines:

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.