After the Funeral
The wooden pew creaked loudly and often every time I shifted in my seat. The church was old and had that smell that all old churches have - polished wood and ancient paper. We were there for the funeral of a friend's father to show our love and support. My friend got up to speak, reading a brief autobiography his dad wrote for a fifty year high school reunion and sharing his thoughts afterward. As he spoke I was no longer in a rigid pew, but in his place up on the platform talking about my dad. Instead of observing I imagined myself memorializing my father and ended up sending him a text on the spot to tell him how much I love him.
I have been to more funerals in the past six months than I have in the past six years combined, and it has begun to have a cumulative effect on me. Over the last days, I have been lost in thoughts of mortality. It's a hard and unchangeable fact of life that we will die. For some people it is lights out, the end to the biological accident that is life. For others, it is the doorway we will all walk through taking us from this life to the next. For me, it is graduation.
As a student in elementary school and Jr. High I couldn't even imagine the idea of not being in school anymore. Graduating was an incomprehensible event that had no shape or form at all. In High School it became more of a reality, a goal even, but it wasn't until the final weeks of my senior year that the reality of graduation settled in. I am going to take one last test and never sit through another class here again. I will never put my jacket in my locker, eat a cafeteria lunch or put on my P.E. uniform again. I will walk an aisle wearing a robe and cap, and that's it. I was anxious and emotional. I knew what was coming next for me, but leaving behind so much of what my life had been was both a little scary and sad.
But I walked the aisle. I went to college. I got married. I played in a band. I got a real job (for those of you who think playing in a band isn't a real job). I had kids. I lived that new, post-school life to the fullest, and it has been so much better than I could have imagined. Even though I may still look back on my school days with nostalgia (braided leather belts, tight-rolled jeans, 90210 hair and sideburns), I would never give up what I have now to go back...ever.
When it comes to death, Jesus tells us this:
The best thing about the home that God is preparing for me is that it has the exact same floor plan as my wife's. God knows that the only way my eternal home would ever be complete is if Terri is there with me. But that's cool too, because that way we will get twice the home!
Thinking intensely about mortality, mine and that of the people I love, has been exhausting and eye-opening all at the same time. The grief of loss is a physical, tangible thing, but when we know Jesus we don't grieve as people who have no hope. We grieve with our feet planted in the present, stretching toward eternity knowing that, through Jesus, one day we will look back on our graduation from this world with nostalgia, not regret.
I have been to more funerals in the past six months than I have in the past six years combined, and it has begun to have a cumulative effect on me. Over the last days, I have been lost in thoughts of mortality. It's a hard and unchangeable fact of life that we will die. For some people it is lights out, the end to the biological accident that is life. For others, it is the doorway we will all walk through taking us from this life to the next. For me, it is graduation.
As a student in elementary school and Jr. High I couldn't even imagine the idea of not being in school anymore. Graduating was an incomprehensible event that had no shape or form at all. In High School it became more of a reality, a goal even, but it wasn't until the final weeks of my senior year that the reality of graduation settled in. I am going to take one last test and never sit through another class here again. I will never put my jacket in my locker, eat a cafeteria lunch or put on my P.E. uniform again. I will walk an aisle wearing a robe and cap, and that's it. I was anxious and emotional. I knew what was coming next for me, but leaving behind so much of what my life had been was both a little scary and sad.
But I walked the aisle. I went to college. I got married. I played in a band. I got a real job (for those of you who think playing in a band isn't a real job). I had kids. I lived that new, post-school life to the fullest, and it has been so much better than I could have imagined. Even though I may still look back on my school days with nostalgia (braided leather belts, tight-rolled jeans, 90210 hair and sideburns), I would never give up what I have now to go back...ever.
When it comes to death, Jesus tells us this:
Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.John 14:1-3Jesus is getting a place ready for those of us who know him. It's a home that is tailored and custom made for us. My place will have an incredible entertainment center with a beautiful flat screen TV that has great movies (The Avengers?), shows (River Monsters!) and events (NFL football) on at all times. It will have a hot tub, a big fenced in back yard (fences make good neighbors), a beachfront ocean view (Hawaii, not Maine), a FULLY stocked kitchen (Golden Oreos) and a landing pad on the roof because in heaven I will have the power of flight. The place that Jesus is preparing for you in heaven is designed just for you, for no other reason than that he loves you and wants to shower his kindness on you.
The best thing about the home that God is preparing for me is that it has the exact same floor plan as my wife's. God knows that the only way my eternal home would ever be complete is if Terri is there with me. But that's cool too, because that way we will get twice the home!
Thinking intensely about mortality, mine and that of the people I love, has been exhausting and eye-opening all at the same time. The grief of loss is a physical, tangible thing, but when we know Jesus we don't grieve as people who have no hope. We grieve with our feet planted in the present, stretching toward eternity knowing that, through Jesus, one day we will look back on our graduation from this world with nostalgia, not regret.
posted by Chris at
10:09 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home