Joy comes in the morning’

“Do not sorrow as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13).”

What this Scripture tells me is that it is normal and expected for even Christians to grieve. Paul wrote to the believers at Thessalonica about their deceased loved ones. He told them the sequence of events that would take place on God’s timetable. The dead in Christ would rise first and then those who had died would have their bodies resurrected at the coming of Jesus Christ. He was reassuring them that death for Christians was only a temporary separation from those we love.

The Psalmist said, “Weeping endures for a night but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). When we weep it is often that we are weeping for ourselves. It is our loss. Our brokenness is about not having that person with us anymore.

God has been gracious to me. I have not lost a family member or friend to a tragic death. Even the term “tragic” death is from the human perspective. Car wrecks, infant and child death, so-called accidents, suicide and many other types of death are definitely tragic to us. As a pastor I was confronted with all of the above. Without a personal frame of reference with tragedy, I learned that my greatest ministry was the Ministry of Presence. We can give people theological answers from the Bible, but there is still a hole in the heart at the loss of a loved one. Don’t get me wrong. We need to preach and teach theological truth about death and life after death. But most of the time trying to provide the “why” during the initial time of grief is not the best approach to minister to the family.

When I was in seminary, my pastoral care class professor told us not to preach the gospel at a funeral. He said it was taking advantage of the grief stricken. There may be no greater opportunity to reach people than at a funeral. People are staring eternity in the face. People are thinking about their own mortality. You have an open door to share biblical truth. To the preacher I would say, do it tastefully, respectfully, but preach the gospel!

Death leaves indelible impressions on us. It can scar us or move us to a deeper walk with God. Death is an inevitable reality for us all. If we live long enough, we will see our loved ones go before us. Let me share with you about some of my personal experiences with death.

I never knew my maternal grandmother. She died at 37 years of age, probably from ovarian cancer although no diagnosis was made. My mother was so impacted by the experience she sensed a call to be a nurse. Mother spent her life caring for others. When mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer she knew she was not going to be with us long but she didn’t want to have anyone care for her but me and her sister.

My mother’s sister is the only blood relative I have left living in that generation. My memories of Aunt Ann were one of a strict disciplinarian. She spoke her mind. She expected you to pull your load at all times. I think she looked on me as a spoiled only child. (She also calls ’em likes she sees ’em and in this case she was pretty close.) During the three months of my mother’s dying, Aunt Ann and I took care of her. We stood by her bed. I mopped the floors, changed the bed sheets, washed and folded clothes and even tried to cook a little. She bathed mother and shared all the chores with me. The trials of those days forged a stronger relationship than we could have ever had otherwise. When people suffer, it may not be about them at all but about us and how we respond to what God is doing in our lives.

My aunt and I were holding hands, praying when mother left earth and entered heaven. We wept together. We prayed together. We comforted one another. Although Aunt Ann and I have always been on good terms, our relationship deepened because of our shared grief. I love her more than I ever have. Death can bring about a proper relationship or strengthen one that is already good.

Recently, an aunt by marriage passed away. She was an only child. She and my uncle (Dad’s brother) had no children. When I was a child they were close to us but in her later years they drifted away from the family. There had been a few painful incidences. About five years ago my uncle and aunt realized their need for a caregiver. I was the one close enough in proximity and relations to take care of them. Over the five-year period their health declined. Alzheimer’s, dementia and other ailments took their toll. My uncle passed away first. He was a World War II veteran, firefighter, and gentle-spirited man.

Strangely, I did not grieve. I remembered some good times from childhood, but there was no deep sadness. I almost felt guilt for not sensing loss. This was compounded when my aunt died. My wife and I were the only two at the graveside beside the pallbearers and the pastor. My grief was more about a lost relationship that had really died 25 or so years before. It was something I could not rectify. By the grace of God bitterness did not set in my heart. Both of them professed Christ and were active in their church, so I trust I will see them in heaven. Grief took a different turn at the ending of my uncle and aunt’s earthly journey. I grieve that at their departure our memories couldn’t reflect on a warmer and closer relationship in their latter years.

Some people have regrets at the passing of a loved one. This is no different for me, but for a very selfish reason. My dad was a great man in his own right. He served in the Navy during the Korean War. He was a firefighter before it was considered heroic. He had many different talents.

When he passed away he was the lay music leader of his church. We had a loving relationship. I am more aware now of how much he loved me than I was even at his death. Dad had mesothelioma, a rare lung cancer. His death took about four months. I was pastoring at the time about 200 miles away. I traveled up to see him virtually every week during those few months. I left him smiling and waving from his hospital bed as I traveled back to my church for a special event. My plans were to return after Sunday to be with him. Mother told me she didn’t think he had long to live.

As my family was eating Sunday lunch, mother called and told me that dad had passed away. I couldn’t believe it. I was going back to see him the next day. It has been 16 years this month but I still wish I had been with him when he took his last breath. I can’t get that back. I would encourage everyone to be sure they say their goodbyes while they have time to say them.

Death is the last enemy. Jesus Christ has conquered death, hell and the grave. While death is called the King of Terrors in the Scriptures, Jesus is the King of Kings. Death has already bowed a knee to Jesus. One day we will grieve no more. All tears, pain, death and sorrow will be gone when Jesus appears. So, do not grieve as others who have no hope. He is the Blessed Hope!