Funeral for a Friend’s Father

“Death is not a chamber, but a passage; not an abiding-place, but a crossing over; not a state, but an act, an experience, a crossing of the bar, a going within the veil” (F. B. Meyer).

Today, I went to a celebration of the life of one of my friend’s father. He had recently passed away at 84. I can’t say that I knew him, having only met him once when he gave me and my friend a ride to the airport about 12 years ago.

Sitting at the funeral service, I came to respect him as a man of God after hearing all the testimonies and stories. One thing I took away was that he loved his God and his family, serving in his church for many years as an elder, Sunday School teacher, and greeter. He was known for his faithfulness and generosity.

I also learned of his love of cats and how he also loved to travel in his Jeep to national parks and historic sights across the country, doing thorough research beforehand to make the experience more enjoyable. As a fellow cat lover and Jeep enthusiast, I can’t very well fault his tastes.

I’m certain that a mark of a man’s wealth isn’t a bank account or a mansion but the number of people who speak well of him and can truly say that they loved him and that he loved them. A life of being faithful to serve in small ways over years is a blessed life indeed.

I can only say that I wish I could have known him better. I would have loved to hear his insights on the Bible as well as some of the current issues facing the nation. I imagine he’d have his own unique take, as I gather he was a militant individualist who blazed his own path rather than follow where others have been.

I think he would have loved that the preacher basically presented the gospel at the end of the service. He would have wanted people to have a chance to respond to the gospel that God so loved the world that he sent his one and only son so that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. He’d have wanted to know that all his friends and family could know that Jesus loves them.

It did my heart good to hear those words spoken in his honor. Though I understand that his body might have been in that casket in front of the chapel, I remember the words that Billy Graham once said: “Someday you will read or hear that Billy Graham is dead. Don’t you believe a word of it. I shall be more alive than I am now. I will just have changed my address. I will have gone into the presence of God.”

I know that he is now more alive than ever. He is more healed and whole than ever. He is standing before Jesus right now hearing the blessed words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”


Worshipping Through Weeping

“Weeping may last through the night,
    but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5, NLT).

Today as a deacon, I attended the celebration of life service for one of our members who tragically lost his life at age 42. He had been married only 16 months when his life was unexpectedly cut short.

The funeral was beautiful and God-honoring. My favorite part of the entire service was when the worship leader sang the first song, the widow of the deceased stood up alone and raised her hands in worship, grieving and praising at the same time.

That’s an image I will carry with me as long as I live, I think. She had her world utterly wrecked like a rug pulled out from underneath her and still was able to declare like Job, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21, ESV).

There is so much evil in the world and so much that makes no sense. If this life is all there is, then there is no hope, no future, and no reason to keep going. But if we have the promise of God for something better coming (and we do), then we know that this is what the Apostle Paul calls a light and momentary affliction compared to the joy that’s coming.

Not that grief is nothing. Not that the pain isn’t real. But the coming joy will overwhelm us and seem so much greater than any sorrow that went before, like a woman holding her newborn baby after the agony of giving birth only is thinking of new life and not pain.

My brain has no compartment for comprehending the level of suffering this woman is currently undergoing and how radically different her life will be from now on. There will always be a void where her husband should be and a dull ache that never completely goes away, but there will always be a Father’s love that grows deeper and sweeter with the passing of time.

“Yea, though walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” The psalm does not pretend that evil and death do not exist. Terrible things happen, and they happen to good people as well as to bad people. Even the paths of righteousness lead through the valley of the shadow. Death lies ahead for all of us, saints and sinners alike, and for all the ones we love. The psalmist doesn’t try to explain evil. He doesn’t try to minimize evil. He simply says he will not fear evil. For all the power that evil has, it doesn’t have the power to make him afraid” Frederick Buechner, The Clown in the Belfry).

Looking for the Pause Button

Sometimes, I wish life had a remote control, like in that Adam Sandler movie where he fast-forwards through the boring parts of his life.

Only I wouldn’t be looking for the fast-forward button. I’d want to pause my life.

Today, I went to the funeral of a friend’s dad. I hadn’t seen or talked to him in a long time, but I remember him as being a quiet, gentle man who loved his God and his family and who also happened to own the first PC that I had ever seen.

I saw him lying in the coffin, looking like a perfect wax replica of a person. Then I remembered that I was looking not at the man, but at the shell. The moment he breathed his last he was instantly in the presence of Jesus, fully alive and healthy and happy.

I heard where two Briarcrest students who were set to embark on their senior year of high school died Friday at the hands of a drunk driver who had four DUIs in the last five years.

There’s too much sadness and loss in the world. Too many people had to say goodbye to the ones they loved, while more than that never got the chance.

I sense more than ever how precious and fleeting this life is. I understand more how important it is never to take anyone in your life for granted.

I’m thinking about the quote from the movie The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel– “There’s no present like the time.”

I recall a pastor who said that at best this life is like a clean bus station. You don’t set up a bedroom suite and move all your belongings into a Greyhound terminal, because it’s only a stop along the way toward your final destination.

This life is so brief because this is not our final destination. Heaven is. As much as I keep forgetting, as much as I want that pause button to work, I know that I can’t stop that second hand from racing clockwise toward another tomorrow.

I can only choose to live each moment fully and to be fully present to every person in every place at every moment that I’m given. I can know that in God’s economy nothing is ever wasted and the good a person does follows after them. Your legacy will far outlive you and in the end, it won’t be what you did for a living or who you knew, but who you were and what you did with what God gave you.

 

Blessed are the mourners

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5:4).

It seems like we as a society don’t really do well with mourning. We would rather be entertained and amused. Sadness and grief are things that we move past as quickly as possible, and those that don’t are looked upon unfavorably, like “Why can’t they just get over it?”

The Message puts it this way: “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.”

How are we to mourn and what are we to mourn for?

I think we mourn not as those who have no hope, but as those who do. Our sadness is a sadness that is based in the hope of a better day yet to come. Our grief is a grief that has joy at its core– joy that whatever we’ve lost will be restored to us a thousand-fold. We mourn knowing that one day we will rejoice and sing– and laugh– over the momentary afflictions that have been far outweighed by an eternal hope of glory.

What do we mourn for? We mourn over the loss of loved ones, because death is certain for every single one of us. We mourn over the wasted lives around us. We mourn over so many hopes we had that were unfulfilled and dreams we had that were dashed against the rocks of reality. We mourn over sin in the world, and what how it mars and wrecks and leaves a ruin in so many lives. We weep for what God in Jesus wept for– that so many will live and die and pass into eternity separated from Him and never knowing what real hope, faith and love look like. They will never know that God had a better, more abundant life in store for them if they would only say yes to Him.

It’s good to mourn for these things, but also to rejoice that all these things will one day end. Jesus has already overcome all the things that cause sadness and grief.

I would like to close this with words from Rich Mullins that may not quite fit, but I loved them so much that I had to add them here:

“It is the living who mourn at a funeral– not the dead. We mourn because the lives of the dead who made our own more lively, and since we are (or had been) so knit together, the loss of another’s strand will eventually cause our own unravelling. Fellowship is the mingling of threads that make up a fabric, and only in a fabric do we have some kind of meaningfulness.”

As always, I believe. Help my unbelief.