Nearer To God Than Me
Sermon
Life Everlasting
The Essential Book of Funeral Resources
Object:
For a model Christian
Nearer To God Than Me
Philippians 4:10-14
Flora Ann's niece said it well, "Flora Ann was something special." She was a model Christian, a saint among the saints. Preachers love to do services such as this for people such as her; people who have lived such long and good lives that they could look back and have few regrets. For people who loved and enjoyed life, loved and enjoyed the people in their lives, and were loved and enjoyed by others; people who have built their lives around their Lord. For people who founded each day on the rock of their redeemer's love; and people who are so sure of their Lord's love that they can face death without fear.
That's who Flora Ann was. She was above all else a Christian, which is why I chose this passage of scripture from Colossians for her funeral service. It is not a passage about resurrection or eternal life. It is instead about Christian virtue, about walking more closely with the Lord. Flora Ann walked as closely with the Lord in her daily life as anyone I have ever known. And therein lies one of the great lessons of her life for us. She taught us not by her words, because she was for the most part a woman of few words. She taught about patience, endurance, prayer, and grace by exhibiting those qualities. She taught us how to live the Christian life, by living it.
I remember the first time I visited her in her home. She had not been feeling well for a while and she had let it be known that she was hoping that the pastor would visit and he was a little tardy in doing so. So, when I visited, after we chatted for a few minutes in her living room, I said, "I'm sorry I haven't visited sooner. I hope you weren't upset about it." She responded, "I wasn't upset at all. I was just looking forward to a visit with our nice young pastor." What a gracious, graceful reply, one that was concerned about setting me at ease rather than grinding some personal ax. That gracefulness was a big part of who she was. She knew her Lord so well that she was full of his grace.
Flora Ann's daughter told me a story last night at the funeral home about the time when she was a child and she misbehaved, and later she asked Flora Ann, "Mom, why didn't you scold me for misbehaving?" And Flora Ann replied, "Because Mother understands, dear." Mother understood why her daughter had misbehaved, and understood that what her little girl needed at that point was encouragement and love rather than scolding and punishment. That was God's grace at work in Flora Ann. She gave out love when a scolding was deserved. She was a graceful lady.
After she gracefully let me off the hook, we spent the next hour and a half playing some scrabble. She was one of the grand triumvirate of Garwood Street Scrabblers. We talked about the things that she enjoyed. She fretted a bit that she was not going to be able to do much gardening that year. She wasn't well enough. But she had other things to keep her busy, she said. She showed me a gorgeous quilt she was working on. She was a maestro with a quilt. She gave me a bar of her homemade soap to take home. I'm not sure if there was a hidden message in that or not. We talked about her life. She told me of how she had lost her husband when she was just a young woman and of how she had raised her girls and provided for them on her own. You know what impressed me as she told the story of her life? There was no trace of bitterness. Life had dealt her a hardship hand and she had played it with panache.
"Wasn't it hard for you?" I asked.
"Of course, it was hard."
"Didn't you ever just want to give up?"
"Never. God was with me every step. I knew he'd see me through."
Sitting there, the scripture came to my mind from Philippians 4, "Not that I complain of want, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content. I know how to be abased and I know how to abound. In any and all circumstances, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and want. I can do all things through him who strengthens me." She knew, as Paul did, how to be content in all situations with the Lord at her side.
She could do all things with this God at her side.
And then, after a wonderful afternoon, our visit came to end, but not before another lesson. I began to excuse myself and got to my feet to leave and she asked, and here is where the other side of her personality came through, gentle and graceful, but always willing to speak her mind when she felt it necessary to stand firm for her beliefs. She asked, "Aren't you going to pray with me?" I explained apologetically, "Sometimes I feel like I'm being pushy when I ask people to pray with me." I might point out that I have outgrown that embarrassment and I now have no trouble being pushy. She then said to me words I will always remember. She said, "Prayer is a great blessing. To take people into the presence of God in prayer is your duty and your privilege as a man of God." We prayed, and I sensed that I was the one being taken into the presence of God. When we finished praying, I sat there in silence staring at her for a few seconds, knowing that I was in the presence of one of the Lord's jewels. A jewel that had been ground by the hardships and difficulties of life in this world. And polished by her deep abiding faith and the steadfast love of the Lord that never let her down.
I sat there staring into a weathered old face seeing the beauty of a soul who had basked in the glory of God's love and grace for a long time. And the result of that basking was that she had set her mind on the things that are above rather than the things of the earth. She had put off the old and put on the new self of kindness and meekness and lowliness and patience. She had become a gem reflecting the liveliness, and joy, and peacefulness of her Lord. And in all of that, she was, and she remains, someone who has much to teach us about the ways of the Lord. She taught me a great deal in that one short afternoon visit about being a faithful and joyful Christian. She was a beautiful Christian woman, who even had something to teach us in her dying.
Michael Roemer did a television documentary on three cancer patients dealing with how they faced or didn't face their impending deaths. Roemer said, as the documentary ended, "You can't learn to die as though it were a skill. Death becomes the expression of everything you are and you can bring to it only what you have brought to your life. People die the way they have lived." Flora Ann died with the same dignity, grace, peacefulness, and confidence with which she had lived through 92 years. She could do so because she had lived in the Lord's presence all those years, because she was yet in his presence as she lay dying, and because she knew that death would mean entrance into the fullness of his presence, something she longed for.
A five-year-old girl was riding home from the funeral of one of her grandmothers. She was riding with her other grandma and asked, "Where did Grandma go?"
"We believe God came and took her to be with him in heaven," said the remaining grandma.
"How old was she?" asked the little girl.
"Eighty-one," said her grandma.
"How old are you?"
"Eighty-six," Grandma replied.
The little girl was thoughtfully quiet for a bit and then she said, "I hope God hasn't forgotten you."
Flora Ann may not have liked God's timing these past few months. She would have loved to have gone home sooner, but I am sure she never for a moment believed that God had forgotten her. She knew he would come for her and longed for the day when he would take her to his heaven. And in the meantime she rested in his presence, just as she had always done. The last time I prayed with her, two weeks ago, was as joyful as the first.
Let me just tell you one last story that says it all about Flora Ann for me. Her daughter told me that a few weeks ago, when Flora Ann was not completely coherent and was seeing things that weren't there, dreaming in a sense, while awake. She was sitting in a chair in the living room when her daughter came in. Flora Ann asked her, "Have they taken him down from the cross, yet?" Now I don't know about you, but when I dream, I go to the beach, or the golf course, or to a family celebration. We all go various places. Flora Ann went to the cross, the place that was most fundamental to who she was. She went to the cross and was reminded that her Lord loved her so much that he died for her and forgave her sins.
And now, just a few short weeks later, she has followed him from his cross of death into his cold tomb and on to his glorious resurrection. Followed him home that she might dwell in the house of her Lord forever in the place where she belongs. So hard as it is to say good-bye, through the tears and the sorrow, we must also rejoice this day for having known this beautiful jewel of a Christian woman. For having learned from her, for knowing that she is now in the place she has lived her life to attain. She resides this day in the kingdom of God with the Prince of Peace. Hooray for Flora Ann! Let us rejoice! Amen.
Nearer To God Than Me
Philippians 4:10-14
Flora Ann's niece said it well, "Flora Ann was something special." She was a model Christian, a saint among the saints. Preachers love to do services such as this for people such as her; people who have lived such long and good lives that they could look back and have few regrets. For people who loved and enjoyed life, loved and enjoyed the people in their lives, and were loved and enjoyed by others; people who have built their lives around their Lord. For people who founded each day on the rock of their redeemer's love; and people who are so sure of their Lord's love that they can face death without fear.
That's who Flora Ann was. She was above all else a Christian, which is why I chose this passage of scripture from Colossians for her funeral service. It is not a passage about resurrection or eternal life. It is instead about Christian virtue, about walking more closely with the Lord. Flora Ann walked as closely with the Lord in her daily life as anyone I have ever known. And therein lies one of the great lessons of her life for us. She taught us not by her words, because she was for the most part a woman of few words. She taught about patience, endurance, prayer, and grace by exhibiting those qualities. She taught us how to live the Christian life, by living it.
I remember the first time I visited her in her home. She had not been feeling well for a while and she had let it be known that she was hoping that the pastor would visit and he was a little tardy in doing so. So, when I visited, after we chatted for a few minutes in her living room, I said, "I'm sorry I haven't visited sooner. I hope you weren't upset about it." She responded, "I wasn't upset at all. I was just looking forward to a visit with our nice young pastor." What a gracious, graceful reply, one that was concerned about setting me at ease rather than grinding some personal ax. That gracefulness was a big part of who she was. She knew her Lord so well that she was full of his grace.
Flora Ann's daughter told me a story last night at the funeral home about the time when she was a child and she misbehaved, and later she asked Flora Ann, "Mom, why didn't you scold me for misbehaving?" And Flora Ann replied, "Because Mother understands, dear." Mother understood why her daughter had misbehaved, and understood that what her little girl needed at that point was encouragement and love rather than scolding and punishment. That was God's grace at work in Flora Ann. She gave out love when a scolding was deserved. She was a graceful lady.
After she gracefully let me off the hook, we spent the next hour and a half playing some scrabble. She was one of the grand triumvirate of Garwood Street Scrabblers. We talked about the things that she enjoyed. She fretted a bit that she was not going to be able to do much gardening that year. She wasn't well enough. But she had other things to keep her busy, she said. She showed me a gorgeous quilt she was working on. She was a maestro with a quilt. She gave me a bar of her homemade soap to take home. I'm not sure if there was a hidden message in that or not. We talked about her life. She told me of how she had lost her husband when she was just a young woman and of how she had raised her girls and provided for them on her own. You know what impressed me as she told the story of her life? There was no trace of bitterness. Life had dealt her a hardship hand and she had played it with panache.
"Wasn't it hard for you?" I asked.
"Of course, it was hard."
"Didn't you ever just want to give up?"
"Never. God was with me every step. I knew he'd see me through."
Sitting there, the scripture came to my mind from Philippians 4, "Not that I complain of want, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content. I know how to be abased and I know how to abound. In any and all circumstances, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and want. I can do all things through him who strengthens me." She knew, as Paul did, how to be content in all situations with the Lord at her side.
She could do all things with this God at her side.
And then, after a wonderful afternoon, our visit came to end, but not before another lesson. I began to excuse myself and got to my feet to leave and she asked, and here is where the other side of her personality came through, gentle and graceful, but always willing to speak her mind when she felt it necessary to stand firm for her beliefs. She asked, "Aren't you going to pray with me?" I explained apologetically, "Sometimes I feel like I'm being pushy when I ask people to pray with me." I might point out that I have outgrown that embarrassment and I now have no trouble being pushy. She then said to me words I will always remember. She said, "Prayer is a great blessing. To take people into the presence of God in prayer is your duty and your privilege as a man of God." We prayed, and I sensed that I was the one being taken into the presence of God. When we finished praying, I sat there in silence staring at her for a few seconds, knowing that I was in the presence of one of the Lord's jewels. A jewel that had been ground by the hardships and difficulties of life in this world. And polished by her deep abiding faith and the steadfast love of the Lord that never let her down.
I sat there staring into a weathered old face seeing the beauty of a soul who had basked in the glory of God's love and grace for a long time. And the result of that basking was that she had set her mind on the things that are above rather than the things of the earth. She had put off the old and put on the new self of kindness and meekness and lowliness and patience. She had become a gem reflecting the liveliness, and joy, and peacefulness of her Lord. And in all of that, she was, and she remains, someone who has much to teach us about the ways of the Lord. She taught me a great deal in that one short afternoon visit about being a faithful and joyful Christian. She was a beautiful Christian woman, who even had something to teach us in her dying.
Michael Roemer did a television documentary on three cancer patients dealing with how they faced or didn't face their impending deaths. Roemer said, as the documentary ended, "You can't learn to die as though it were a skill. Death becomes the expression of everything you are and you can bring to it only what you have brought to your life. People die the way they have lived." Flora Ann died with the same dignity, grace, peacefulness, and confidence with which she had lived through 92 years. She could do so because she had lived in the Lord's presence all those years, because she was yet in his presence as she lay dying, and because she knew that death would mean entrance into the fullness of his presence, something she longed for.
A five-year-old girl was riding home from the funeral of one of her grandmothers. She was riding with her other grandma and asked, "Where did Grandma go?"
"We believe God came and took her to be with him in heaven," said the remaining grandma.
"How old was she?" asked the little girl.
"Eighty-one," said her grandma.
"How old are you?"
"Eighty-six," Grandma replied.
The little girl was thoughtfully quiet for a bit and then she said, "I hope God hasn't forgotten you."
Flora Ann may not have liked God's timing these past few months. She would have loved to have gone home sooner, but I am sure she never for a moment believed that God had forgotten her. She knew he would come for her and longed for the day when he would take her to his heaven. And in the meantime she rested in his presence, just as she had always done. The last time I prayed with her, two weeks ago, was as joyful as the first.
Let me just tell you one last story that says it all about Flora Ann for me. Her daughter told me that a few weeks ago, when Flora Ann was not completely coherent and was seeing things that weren't there, dreaming in a sense, while awake. She was sitting in a chair in the living room when her daughter came in. Flora Ann asked her, "Have they taken him down from the cross, yet?" Now I don't know about you, but when I dream, I go to the beach, or the golf course, or to a family celebration. We all go various places. Flora Ann went to the cross, the place that was most fundamental to who she was. She went to the cross and was reminded that her Lord loved her so much that he died for her and forgave her sins.
And now, just a few short weeks later, she has followed him from his cross of death into his cold tomb and on to his glorious resurrection. Followed him home that she might dwell in the house of her Lord forever in the place where she belongs. So hard as it is to say good-bye, through the tears and the sorrow, we must also rejoice this day for having known this beautiful jewel of a Christian woman. For having learned from her, for knowing that she is now in the place she has lived her life to attain. She resides this day in the kingdom of God with the Prince of Peace. Hooray for Flora Ann! Let us rejoice! Amen.
