Funeral Meditations

Had one of those funerals yesterday that I would rather not have had to do: the deceased was a 33-year-old man, the same age as one of our sons, who left behind a wife and two children, not to mention a mother and three brothers. More than 700 people came to the visitation and 300 or more came to the funeral. I wrote a funeral sermon on Saturday, then after the visitation I tore it up, chose new Scriptures, and wrote a new sermon. Someone else might have done it differently, or done it better, but I was the one who was called on to do it, and I did what I hope was my best, under God. People told me it was helpful.

So while I would rather not have had to do that funeral, I was glad I was able to do it. If as the church we can’t offer something at a time like this, we probably ought to close up and sell the building. “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” (1 Corinthians 15:19 NRS)

Nevertheless, these are the times we feel most inadequate as preachers, which is probably good for us spiritually. After all, “we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.” (2 Corinthians 4:7 NRS) It brings out the paradox of everything we do, from preaching to counseling to administration: nothing happens that does not happen by the power of God, yet nothing happens that doesn’t involve work on our part as well. Somehow God takes what we do and uses it, often in ways we don’t even know about.

So today I am reflecting and looking ahead to Sunday and calling on a few people, believing that God is as much a part of my ordinary activities as he was of our extraordinary activities yesterday.