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This is the sermon I am going to preach on Sunday, February 21, 2010.  It comes on the occasion of the death of one of our members tonight, Saturday, February 20.

When Pope John XXIII lay dying, the Pope’s physician is reported to have said, “Holy Father, you have asked me many times to tell you when the end was near so you could prepare.”  The Pope replied, “Yes.  Don’t feel badly, Doctor.  I understand. I am ready.”

With that the Pope’s secretary, Loris Capovilla collapsed at the Pope’s bedside weeping.

“Courage, my son.  I am a bishop, and I must die as a bishop, with simplicity but with majesty, and you must help me.  Go get the people together.”

His reply was, “Santo Padre, they are waiting.” — Accompany Them With Singing, Introduction.

Last night one of our own left us.  Earl Hedrick went home to be with God.  I had planned to preach today on angels as God’s ushers, bringing us at death and at the end of time into the presence of God.  And while that might be a subject of great interest to us at another time, I felt today I needed to speak to you as your pastor about death, and what happens when death comes to our community.

This is not Earl’s funeral or eulogy, but because his death came so close upon our gathering here today, and came as such a shock to each of us, I want to take a few minutes today to talk about death and how we as followers of Christ deal with the grief and loss that accompanies death.

Dying Is Part of Our Life’s Journey

We all know we are going to die someday, but the will to live that beats in our chest does all it can to push death away.  We have sought to remove death from our lives, our homes, even our churches so much that when death does come in unexpected and surprising ways, we are struck with its finality and force.

There was a time when death was seen as the shadow companion of life.  Walk through any old cemetery where the grave stones display dates that reach back a hundred or more years.  What strikes me each time I visit an old cemetery is the number of small

grave stones that mark the graves of infants and children.

Other markers will note the passing too early of a wife or husband, a mother or father.  The very first church I pastored was a half-time church in the country, the New Hope Baptist Church near McRae, Georgia.  I grew up in the city, so even though I had relatives who lived in the country, I didn’t know much about the customs and traditions of rural south Georgia.

The first death in our small congregation took the husband of one of our members.  Because there was no funeral home in that small rural community, the casket was brought to the house where the visitation took place during the days before the funeral.  Death was present in the midst of the community in all its undeniable reality.

One of my earliest memories as a young boy, and I must have been about 4 or 5 years old, was entering my great-grandmother’s bedroom where she lay in bed.  I sensed even as a small boy that something was wrong, that she must be very sick.  What I did not know then was that she was dying, and this was the last time I would see her.

Only a a few generations ago, Death came into the home where a family lived, and for some families was a regular visitor.

We have become accustomed now to death in the hospital or nursing home, removed from our everyday lives, and coming in spite of all the heroic efforts of medical personnel and medical techniques.  We have even purchased a defibrillator for our church, which is a good thing to do because it might save a life.

But we are reminded in spite of all our attempts to separate ourselves from it, that death still comes, and often unexpectedly.

Jesus Encountered Death and Grief

The shortest verse in the Bible is also the moist poignant — “Jesus wept.”  We have that verse which pictures Jesus in grief because his good friend, Lazarus, had just died.  Jesus stands before his tomb, after Lazarus’ sisters, Mary and Martha share their grief with Jesus.  They also share their disappointment that Jesus had not come earlier, for both Martha and Mary say, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.”  (John 11:21)

There in those short words, we see the face of grief in all its uncertainty and second-guessing.  How many of us have stood beside the casket of a loved one and said to ourselves, “If only I had been there.”  Or some similar remark.

We think we have the power to forestall death by our presence, our good intentions, our desire for life.  But still death comes.  Of course, in the story of the death of Lazarus, that story does have a happy ending.  Death is robbed of Lazarus, as Jesus raises him back to life.  But only for a short time, because Lazarus will die, again, just as we all will.

But Jesus brought Lazarus back from death as demonstration of the Kingdom of God, and of his power over death.  Death, the Bible says, is the last enemy to be defeated.

What Do We Do When Death Comes?

So, what do we do when death visits our community as it did the community of Jesus’ friends?  There are several things I want to suggest to us today.

First, we recognize that death is coming to us all. Now that may sound incredibly morbid, but our acknowledgement that death is real, and cannot be put off is a part of living life.

My father just celebrated his 90th birthday.  Both he and I know that, unless some miracle occurs, he does not have as many years to live as he has lived.  And so he is starting to tell me, “Here’s what you need to know if something happens to me.”

I do not want to have these conversations, and yet I know that he needs to, and that I need to hear what he is saying.  So, while we want to put off death in both our thinking and our conversations, there are times when we must acknowledge death as a coming reality.

Secondly, when death comes to our community, we surround the grief-stricken with our presence and love. I was gratified to see over a dozen rescue squad members with Carol last night at the hospital.  Earl was a leader in that group and had been for years, and the rescue squad becomes a kind of surrogate family bound together by a common desire to help the hurting.

Many of you called me last night, concerned for Earl, and then for Carol.  In the days ahead, we’ll surround her, as we have many in this congregation with our presence and our love.  We are there for one another when death comes, because while death can take one of us, it cannot take us all, and it only strengthens the ties of faith and community.

Part of our ministry to those who grieve is to see their sadness, and let them be sad.  It is a misunderstanding of faith and the Christian life to think that Christians are not sad, do not grieve, and are not hurt by the loss of someone who is loved.

God has made us to love, and part of the risk of love is the possibility of loss.  Grief is about loss — losing a husband, a wife, a companion, a child, a father, a mother, a friend, a neighbor.

Loss, especially the loss of a loved one to death, sweeps through our lives and takes from us many things. Death not only takes the person, but it also takes our daily routine, the small moments of living that are shared between a husband and wife, a parent and child, a friend and a neighbor.

Death creates a vacuum in our lives, leaving holes in our existence that cry out to be filled.  Love and time fill those holes, reshape our lives, and enable us to continue to live.

Often we think we need to explain death, or find a reason for death’s intrusion.  But while wisely chosen words can comfort, poorly chosen words can increase the pain of those who are already reeling from death’s blow.  We can be most helpful by being present with those who grieve, loving them through the steps from grief back to life.

Finally, we can have hope. Hope that we know where our loved one, our friend, our neighbor, our fellow church member has gone, and hope that we will see them again one day.

Paul encouraged us to “Grieve not as those who have no hope.”  He was not saying for us not to grieve, but not to grieve in the same way that those without hope grieve.  And that is the key to understanding and dealing with grief.

We can be sad, we can cry, we can stand with those who do, and that is part of our Christian journey and support, just as it was for Jesus who cried with Mary and Martha.

As Christians, we do not live alone, and we do not die alone.  We are surrounded by those who love us, because together we love God.  God knows what it is to grieve the death of a son.  He is moved by our tears, for He shed tears on this earth himself.

But our hope is in the presence of God and the provision of God’s grace and mercy.  Jesus promised that he has prepared a place for us, and assured us that he would come again and receive us unto himself, that where he is, we might be also.  That is our hope, that is our peace, that is our assurance.

And so the words of John XXIII also apply to us.  We must die with simplicity, but also with majesty.  Gather the people.  For it is from the community of faith that we draw strength, love, and support.