Funerals are important events. I’ve been to plenty of them over my lifetime, several during my childhood. Most of those were fun–I got to hang out with cousins I didn’t often see, telling stories from past adventures, stifling our giggles so as not to draw unwelcome attention from our parents. But as I grew up, funerals became occasions for grieving the loss of someone dear, or coming alongside a friend in their grief. Not fun, and therefore something to avoid whenever possible.
Now that I serve as a pastor in my church, I don’t get to avoid funerals anymore. In fact, yesterday I helped lead one. It was the first time I had served in that role, and I found it to be very meaningful.
I was blessed to visit with Diana in the days leading up to her transition. Admittedly, I have only known her for a half-dozen of her 82 years, but in that short time I came to respect and love her. Diana was probably the most grace-filled woman I have ever known. Her son confirmed this in his remarks at her funeral, reflecting that Diana accepted whatever life brought her way with quiet grace. This was certainly true in her last days. My final visit with her, just 48 hours before she passed, she greeted me with her sweet smile and gathered strength to thank me for coming, grace-filled to the end. Indeed, I was told that her transition from this life to the next was one of grace-filled peace.
On the way back from the graveside service yesterday, the funeral director commented that people often question the need for funerals these days. I can understand that–it’s expensive, it requires thoughtful planning, and it takes time away from things we would rather be doing. Moreover, it forces us to face our own mortality. And that is exactly why funerals are important.
As I ponder Diana’s life and death, I remember that my life grows shorter each day, too. I am now much closer to my own transition to eternity than when I first began! And I find questions arising out of that truth…
What am I doing with my life that honors God for his gracious giving of it? Am I living true to my calling? Where am I missing the mark? Am I taking full advantage of this life as training ground for the next?
As I ponder these questions, I know this: I want to be more like Diana, full of grace. Too much I rant and rave and shake my fist at God, to no avail. I want to be like soft clay in the hands of the Potter, that he might cultivate a quiet grace in me that blesses others and allows me to hear God in the stillness (think Elijah, 1 Kings 19:1-16). I want to accept what comes my way with unwavering faith in the God from whom all grace flows.
Everything teaches…even funerals. So I won’t avoid them anymore. Rather, I will seize the opportunity to face and reflect on my own mortality. I will welcome the hard questions and yield to God as he equips me for the good work he has called me to do, both here in this life and in the life to come. Amen and amen!