Last week, I got the news again: one of my missionary uncles had passed away. One of the sad realities of getting older is that the people I care about are also getting older. Although death can come at any age, it seems to come more frequently to those around me lately.

As Christians, I think it can be difficult to maintain the right perspective on death. Sometimes we make too little of it with cavalier words of “comfort” about heaven to those suffering loss. Heaven is real, but so are the loss and the grief. I think the Bible acknowledges that. Look at Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus: he first meets with Martha, listens to her words of blame, and reassures her that Lazarus will rise again. After that, he goes on to Mary and listens to her blaming him, but then he is so moved to compassion by her grief and that of the others with her that we get that famous shortest verse in the Bible: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). Jesus knows what he’s about to do. He has already talked to Martha about resurrection, though she certainly didn’t think he meant it would happen that day. But the reality of their grief is such that observing it moves Christ to tears.

I think it is important for us to acknowledge the reality of grief and not expect those closest to a death to jump straight to the joy of heaven. They are still on earth, and the loss of the person on earth is real. On the other hand, the grief upon the death of a Christian is not without hope.

A few months ago, I attended a memorial service that was unusual for me in that it was one of very few I have attended for someone who was not a Christian. It was by far the saddest memorial service I can remember, and not because of the level of grief or my own personal loss. This particular death will have little impact on my daily life, and, for at least some of those present, the biggest struggle was with ambivalent feelings toward the deceased. Rather, it was sad because there was nowhere to look but in the past.

I found myself contrasting this experience with other funerals I have attended. In some, the grief was very great and very deep, such as when my cousin died very suddenly, leaving behind two children and her mother. Yet, in all of them, there was an element that was missing from the one this summer.

Paul tells the Thessalonians, “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14 ESV).

Even in deep grief, we know that there is a future; we can–and should–have hope. And it is this hope that should (and typically does) set a Christian funeral apart. While we acknowledge the loss and grieve the departed, we celebrate the hope that was in them and is in us.

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live” (John 11:25 ESV)

 

 

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