Bruce asked me if I would officiate at Shirlee's memorial service. A big ask, I replied, but my privilege.

(For those who don't know, the advanced degree that led me into my almost thirty-year career in information technology was a Master of Divinity from Calvin Theological Seminary. It's a long story; I'll have to tell you about it one of these times.)

Funerals and memorial services are not for the dead but for the living. We want to do right by the departed, we need to say goodbye and close the loop. Especially for we straight-laced white males, we need a time when it's ok to cry. The rest of you are welcome to cry, too. Loss and grief are no respecters of person.

Then what to say at a memorial service for a sister-in-law who was at least as close as my own brothers and sisters?

One thing is certain, whatever words I speak must be words to live by. The time for words to die by was last Wednesday night. I'm thankful I had the opportunity to say the simple words to die by, like, "I love you." When Shirlee told me to take good care of Corky and to keep that relationship strong, I could say to her, "I will." Shirlee's daughters were there with her. She died in Bruce's arms. That was the time for words to die by. I thank God we all had the chance to say them.

I do expect to see Shirlee again; I do not expect her to be listening in on her own memorial service. Even if she were, she would want me to be speaking words of comfort to Bruce and the others gathered there. After all, her own last words were words for the living.

What then to say to the living?

One of the favorite passages from the Bible for such occasions is the story of the raising of Lazarus, from the Gospel of John. (If you're not familiar with it, or even if you are, you can read it at BibleGateway.com. It's a marvelous story, told by a master of the art.)

Two things in particular have lodged themselves in my mind as I have thought about the passage. The first is the Jesus's words to Martha, one of the dead man's two sisters.

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

Beautiful words, those, with layers and layers to unwrap.

But just as striking, and maybe even more so as we look back knowing the rest of the story, is what happened when Jesus arrived at Lazarus's tomb.

Where have you laid him?” he asked.
“Come and see, Lord,” they replied.
Jesus wept.

Jesus, knowing full well that he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead and present him, alive and healthy, back to his sisters, wept. Even for Christians who look beyond death, death is ugly; death is a travesty, an insult. It's not supposed to happen that way.

But we do see beyond death, because Jesus is the resurrection and the life.

And those, my friend, are words to live by.

Soli Deo gloria.


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