Funerals are important…

 

Then Joseph fell on his father’s face and wept over him and kissed him. And Joseph commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his father. So the physicians embalmed Israel. Forty days were required for it, for that is how many are required for embalming. And the Egyptians wept for him seventy days. And when the days of weeping for him were past, Joseph spoke to the household of Pharaoh, saying, “If now I have found favor in your eyes, please speak in the ears of Pharaoh, saying, ‘My father made me swear, saying, “I am about to die: in my tomb that I hewed out for myself in the land of Canaan, there shall you bury me.” Now therefore, let me please go up and bury my father. Then I will return.’ ” And Pharaoh answered, “Go up, and bury your father, as he made you swear.” So Joseph went up to bury his father. With him went up all the servants of Pharaoh, the elders of his household, and all the elders of the land of Egypt, as well as all the household of Joseph, his brothers, and his father’s household. Only their children, their flocks, and their herds were left in the land of Goshen. And there went up with him both chariots and horsemen. It was a very great company. When they came to the threshing floor of Atad, which is beyond the Jordan, they lamented there with a very great and grievous lamentation, and he made a mourning for his father seven days. When the inhabitants of the land, the Canaanites, saw the mourning on the threshing floor of Atad, they said, “This is a grievous mourning by the Egyptians.” Therefore the place was named Abel-mizraim; it is beyond the Jordan. Thus his sons did for him as he had commanded them, for his sons carried him to the land of Canaan and buried him in the cave of the field at Machpelah, to the east of Mamre, which Abraham bought with the field from Ephron the Hittite to possess as a burying place. After he had buried his father, Joseph returned to Egypt with his brothers and all who had gone up with him to bury his father. (Genesis 50:1–14)

This passage is about grief and the extent of a family to mourn the loss of their father. In my life right now, it touches me two ways. One is that two of our friends died this month. One funeral happened and it was an incredible blessing to review the life of a man who loved and served God. The second one will be later, but it will happen. This man’s life also honored the Lord, and the event will also.

However, many deaths have the notation “No funeral” in the obituary. This is sad. It is usually the desire of the person who died, perhaps thinking it saves the family costs, or pain, or whatever, yet even the least loved family member will be missed and a funeral gives the living an opportunity to say goodbye, and to think about their own lives and deaths. Just a quick “he’s gone, move on” avoids the importance of pondering life.

The second way I’m touched is because I’ve been thinking about my own demise. Being ill does that. Yesterday was sleep, eat, sleep, as has been most of today. The odd thing is that my vitals are normal: pulse, blood pressure, blood oxygen, etc. but this cough will not go away and I am exhausted, with little appetite and no ambition. 

Not certain of the days ahead, the consequences could involve a funeral. Is it vain to suppose my family would mourn? I hope not. What I do want is Jesus to be glorified. The faith of the OT saints and those who currently loved and served Jesus means they are now with their Maker and enjoying eternal life. A funeral, done well, should let the living know that Jesus died for their sins, was buried, and rose again — to give us eternal life. The burying place does not matter, nor does the way I’ve lived or served God. What matters is that Jesus lives and that because He is alive, I will also live with Him forever.

Jesus, while illness makes me think of the end of life, You put that on my heart more than fifty years ago and granted faith to trust You — for all of this life and for what comes next. I want others to know of Your love and faithfulness, not just drop out of sight without being a witness to Your gift of eternal life.

Hope that changes grief

When Irene’s husband died, I’d been a believer for only a few months. She was my first mentor, and I’d not yet read this verse about mourning. 

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. (1 Thessalonians 4:13)

Irene had been married many years. As she stood with her back to us at her husband’s grave, she leaned over as if she would jump in and join him. For weeks, I had pondered my safety in submitting myself to the Lordship of Jesus Christ. I worried that God would ask me to do things that I would not like or could not handle. Whatever would I do should death take someone I loved? I knew the grief of losing my grandparents as a youngster. Would Jesus spare me from those trials? I agonized for Irene also. She had lost her precious Bill.

However, Irene dispelled all my fears. When she turned around, I was stunned. Her face was radiant and I knew instantly that this joy was from Jesus. He gave it to her — even in this!

Talking afterward, she shared how much she missed Bill. Of course she was not glad that he died, but she said, “Whenever I grieve, I realize that it is not for him. He is with Jesus. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

Since then, I’ve observed how other Christians respond to death with sorrow, yet joy is also present. We know that the ones we love are with Jesus. When my father died, the comments offered by others gave me insight into what they thought about death. Many offered sympathy to me for my “loss” but the most comforting words came from a young woman known for her enthusiasm. She almost bounced as she came to me and said, “I know this is supposed to be a sad time, but I’m so happy for your dad!”

Jesus must have smiled. Those words still fill me with joy. Oddly, the young woman who uttered them says she cannot remember saying them, making me fairly certain that Jesus put those words in her mouth. Because of them, every time I think about my dad, I feel joined arm-in-arm with Irene.

Celebration at a Christian funeral is possible only because we know our eternal destiny. We know we will see our loved ones again. When Jesus prayed to His Father, He said,

Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world. (John 17:24)

Because of the love of God, because Jesus died for our sins, and because God has given us to Jesus, Christians have assurance that we will be where He is when we die. I know this for myself. I know it for all who believe in Jesus. It isn’t “pie in the sky” but a promise from the Son of God, and the desire of His heart.

*****

Lord, I sit here with tears, not because I am sad but because I am filled with joy. Death is the end of life here, but not the end of life. You promised, 

In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. (John 14:2–3).

I believe You, and I know that this promise is for all who have put their faith in You, including my dad, my mom, Irene and her husband and many, many brothers and sisters in Christ. Being with You is our sure hope and our glorious destiny.

Today, when I think about the ordinary chores and stuff of life, thoughts of eternity with You lift my heart — and the corners of my mouth. Sometimes life here can be very humdrum, or even a “sad time” but because of You and the assurance of eternal life, today I am very happy.