In Augustine’s great book The City of God, he once wrote that in our fallen world, the dead are replaced by the dying. This being the case, undeniably the case, we ought to pay closer attention to this stark reality. This is a journey that all of us are on, and we will pass by this mile marker. And this is why Scripture tells us that going to the house of mourning—where we are right now—is better than the house of feasting (Ecc. 7:2). We can and should serve and remember God in either house, but there is more wisdom to be gathered here.
In my last visit with Jim, just a few weeks ago, I asked him directly how it was with his soul. Was he prepared, was he ready? It was a very great blessing for me to see his quiet assurance. No bravado, no high emotional displays, and no drama at all. Just a quiet readiness to do “the next thing.”
This is what faithful Christian discipleship looks like, does it not? Jesus taught us that each day has enough trouble of its own, so we ought not to import troubles from the future into today. This is just another way of saying that our duty, resting in today, means that it always consists of doing the next thing. Our duties are near, and clear. The next thing is always today.
But it is an unavoidable fact that for each of us here, at some point, death will be the next step. Death will be the next thing, and it will occur on a day that is called today. I say this, not in order to be morbid or dark, but rather to be realistic.
And how is it in any way morbid or dark to realize that the day of our departure is the day when we will be standing on the threshold of an unclouded and everlasting day? For the materialistic unbeliever, for the secularist, for the atheist, death is the invincible foe. That day comes, as it will come, and it is lights out.
But for believers, death is the disarmed foe. Where is the sting? Where is the bite? Christ was crucified and He died. He was entombed for three days and three nights. When He rose again from the dead, taking up his life again, what this means for us is that we who believe in Him are privileged to follow after Him. Paul tells Agrippa that Christ was the first one to rise again from the dead (Acts 26:23), which means that all the rest of us are privileged to follow after Him. That grace is a privilege that Jim has been given by divine right. Jim will in fact be raised from the dead, and we have been given an assurance of this through the resurrection of Christ from the dead. All of us will be raised at the end of history, and we know this because Jesus was raised in the middle of history.
We are supposed to consider death as an enemy still, but it is an enemy that has been robbed of his fearsomeness. He no longer can sting the way he used to, he is no longer in possession of victory. The victory belongs to the one who snatched it out of his right hand on the third day.
There is sorrow at a memorial like this. There is sadness, but it is the kind of sadness you see at airports—when someone you love is going away for an extended period, and you won’t see them for that time, but you know that you will in fact see them again. This is the other side of the Christian understanding of death. If we would learn wisdom, we can see this two-fold understanding in the book of Philippians.
In that book, Paul talks about his own possible death with real equanimity.
“For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. But if I live in the flesh, this is the fruit of my labour: yet what I shall choose I wot not. For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ; which is far better: Nevertheless to abide in the flesh is more needful for you.”Phil. 1:21–24). (KJV)
But in the same book, just a short time later, Paul speaks of the illness that almost took the life of Epaphroditus.
“For indeed he was sick nigh unto death: but God had mercy on him; and not on him only, but on me also, lest I should have sorrow upon sorrow.”Phil. 2:27 (KJV)
Death is a true adversary, and in the shadow of death we do have sorrow upon sorrow. That is lawful and proper and right. It cannot be wrong for us to grieve for Jim the way that Paul tells us he would have grieved for Epaphroditus. But we are not to give way to the kind of sorrow that unbelievers have, as they are without God and without hope in the world.
Think of it this way. Our sorrow is the sorrow of those who know that Jim has been given the better portion. Because we love him, we will miss him. But also, because we love him, we would not dream of taking away from him what he has now been given.
When we were each converted, we were given the gift of everlasting life. We were given the gift of eternal life, and it was given to us as a present possession. But if you will permit a homely illustration, it is as though we are all sitting around on Christmas morning, with the gifts all distributed, and they are sitting on our laps. Still wrapped, and the paper is beautiful, and we hold it in our hands. The gift is ours and has already been given. But when we are ushered into the presence of the Lord, the gift that has been on our laps is now unwrapped.
There is sorrow because we cannot see the expression on Jim’s face.
There is joy because we know that his gift will never be wrapped up again.
There is additional joy because we know that the time is coming when we will be invited to open our gift.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, amen.