A Vision Of Heaven
Sermon
Life Everlasting
The Essential Book of Funeral Resources
Object:
For a young person who suffered a cruel disease
A Vision Of Heaven
Revelation; Isaiah; Psalm 23
A service in remembrance, in celebration, of Karl's life and in witness to our faith in God. In witness to our hope, our strength, our peace in God. In witness to the promise of resurrection life, through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. More times than I can remember, I have gathered for similar services, not in the church, but at the funeral home. Services for folks who weren't part of the church community. As to this dual purpose of remembering and proclaiming, celebrating and witnessing, eulogizing and preaching ... at this point in the service I have said time and time again "the remembering, that's your part, and the proclaiming, that's my part."
Well, you know that's just plain wrong, such division of duties. Yes, you are here to remember. Some of you with a lifetime of memories of Karl, as well as some of the youngest church school choristers whomever met Karl, but have still been praying for him. Yes, you are here to remember, but we are here to proclaim faith, as well. It is true that we have gathered here to remember Karl and celebrate his life, and mourn his death. Karl's brothers and sisters and his brother-in-law have so courageously led us in that holy remembering. But there was proclaiming faith, as well. In the words of scripture, in the prayers we have shared, in the prelude offered before God, in the anthems and the hymns, we stand shoulder to shoulder to sing and to play and to whisper and to groan a word of life, through tears and clinched teeth, we dare to breathe that word of life right into the face of death. There's a room full of preachers here today for we are the church. And by the grace of God, and through the power of the risen Christ, and with the comfort of the Holy Spirit, we come into this place so that death can't have the last word.
In the last days of his life, Karl had requested to hear words of scripture that tell of a vision of heaven. On the day of his death, I read to him from the book of Revelation, the text offered in your hearing this morning. I also read this from the book of Isaiah: "For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands" (Isaiah 55:12). This portion of scripture offers a promise to the people of Israel in the Old Testament amid the seemingly endless journeys of life and faith. I guess in this case of my reading it to Karl, it was less of a vision of heaven, and more of a prayer for him as his own journey of life and faith took him up to and through his death, and into the very arms of God. "That you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace" as God's creation itself bursts into song.
One of the dangers of the division of labor I mentioned earlier, one of the dangers is that folks often think that someone who wears a robe and stands here, some professional like this, has all the answers. You have to know that to gather here two days before Christmas, called together by the death of a 24-year-old child of the church, taken in months by the cruelest of diseases, you have to know there are more questions than there are answers. There is more lament than there is joy, even more anger than there is peace. There is more grief than there is celebration.
I don't stand here with answers. We stand here together surrounded by our faith. With candles and flowers and wreaths and Advent, we stand together here in this place where within hours we will sing again of the Savior's birth. To stand at the manger and look to the cross, look to the empty tomb, that's what it means to be the church. For this love made known to us in the Christ Child, it is God's love and life made known, not with answers, but with a hope-filled light that breaks into the darkness of our lament, our anger, our grief. That light is the light of all people, coming to the world, and the darkness of death shall never overcome it. That light of the Christ Child, whose victory over death is what will carry us out from this place today.
Faith is what surrounded Karl in his life, now ended way too soon. Faith is what surrounded him. It occurs to me that you family members ought to be sitting over there in your family section. That faith, before it was Karl's, and was your family's, it was here, and in every case, such faith is a gift of God. It was that faith that surrounded Karl in his life, in his sickness, in his death.
Some of you may know of the Psalm 23 quilt from Barbara's third- and fourth-grade church school class. That quilt is how the children learn Psalm 23. Barbara reminded me that she never asks them to memorize it, but they do. That quilt has made the rounds to person after person in our church family, people who were sick, rehabilitating broken bones, and mending grieving hearts. As Karl's death came and went, as he went out in joy and was led back in peace, Karl was literally wrapped in the words of Psalm 23. Those words of our faith surrounded him in the valley of the shadow of death. Those words of our faith wrapped him in death. Those words of our faith led him to eternity.
For Karl, death shall be no more, the sickness is forever gone. No more pain. No more darkness. His body shall be restored within the gates of heaven. His service in the heavenly kingdom has begun.
And together, you and I shall proclaim that death shall not have the last word, for the last word belongs to that Savior, born in the manger, born that Christmas night, the last words belong to the infant Jesus, "I am the resurrection and I am life."
We shall proclaim with heart, and soul, and voice, for Jesus Christ was born for this, he opened the heavenly door, we are blessed forevermore. Christ was born for this. Christ was born for this! Amen.
A Vision Of Heaven
Revelation; Isaiah; Psalm 23
A service in remembrance, in celebration, of Karl's life and in witness to our faith in God. In witness to our hope, our strength, our peace in God. In witness to the promise of resurrection life, through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. More times than I can remember, I have gathered for similar services, not in the church, but at the funeral home. Services for folks who weren't part of the church community. As to this dual purpose of remembering and proclaiming, celebrating and witnessing, eulogizing and preaching ... at this point in the service I have said time and time again "the remembering, that's your part, and the proclaiming, that's my part."
Well, you know that's just plain wrong, such division of duties. Yes, you are here to remember. Some of you with a lifetime of memories of Karl, as well as some of the youngest church school choristers whomever met Karl, but have still been praying for him. Yes, you are here to remember, but we are here to proclaim faith, as well. It is true that we have gathered here to remember Karl and celebrate his life, and mourn his death. Karl's brothers and sisters and his brother-in-law have so courageously led us in that holy remembering. But there was proclaiming faith, as well. In the words of scripture, in the prayers we have shared, in the prelude offered before God, in the anthems and the hymns, we stand shoulder to shoulder to sing and to play and to whisper and to groan a word of life, through tears and clinched teeth, we dare to breathe that word of life right into the face of death. There's a room full of preachers here today for we are the church. And by the grace of God, and through the power of the risen Christ, and with the comfort of the Holy Spirit, we come into this place so that death can't have the last word.
In the last days of his life, Karl had requested to hear words of scripture that tell of a vision of heaven. On the day of his death, I read to him from the book of Revelation, the text offered in your hearing this morning. I also read this from the book of Isaiah: "For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands" (Isaiah 55:12). This portion of scripture offers a promise to the people of Israel in the Old Testament amid the seemingly endless journeys of life and faith. I guess in this case of my reading it to Karl, it was less of a vision of heaven, and more of a prayer for him as his own journey of life and faith took him up to and through his death, and into the very arms of God. "That you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace" as God's creation itself bursts into song.
One of the dangers of the division of labor I mentioned earlier, one of the dangers is that folks often think that someone who wears a robe and stands here, some professional like this, has all the answers. You have to know that to gather here two days before Christmas, called together by the death of a 24-year-old child of the church, taken in months by the cruelest of diseases, you have to know there are more questions than there are answers. There is more lament than there is joy, even more anger than there is peace. There is more grief than there is celebration.
I don't stand here with answers. We stand here together surrounded by our faith. With candles and flowers and wreaths and Advent, we stand together here in this place where within hours we will sing again of the Savior's birth. To stand at the manger and look to the cross, look to the empty tomb, that's what it means to be the church. For this love made known to us in the Christ Child, it is God's love and life made known, not with answers, but with a hope-filled light that breaks into the darkness of our lament, our anger, our grief. That light is the light of all people, coming to the world, and the darkness of death shall never overcome it. That light of the Christ Child, whose victory over death is what will carry us out from this place today.
Faith is what surrounded Karl in his life, now ended way too soon. Faith is what surrounded him. It occurs to me that you family members ought to be sitting over there in your family section. That faith, before it was Karl's, and was your family's, it was here, and in every case, such faith is a gift of God. It was that faith that surrounded Karl in his life, in his sickness, in his death.
Some of you may know of the Psalm 23 quilt from Barbara's third- and fourth-grade church school class. That quilt is how the children learn Psalm 23. Barbara reminded me that she never asks them to memorize it, but they do. That quilt has made the rounds to person after person in our church family, people who were sick, rehabilitating broken bones, and mending grieving hearts. As Karl's death came and went, as he went out in joy and was led back in peace, Karl was literally wrapped in the words of Psalm 23. Those words of our faith surrounded him in the valley of the shadow of death. Those words of our faith wrapped him in death. Those words of our faith led him to eternity.
For Karl, death shall be no more, the sickness is forever gone. No more pain. No more darkness. His body shall be restored within the gates of heaven. His service in the heavenly kingdom has begun.
And together, you and I shall proclaim that death shall not have the last word, for the last word belongs to that Savior, born in the manger, born that Christmas night, the last words belong to the infant Jesus, "I am the resurrection and I am life."
We shall proclaim with heart, and soul, and voice, for Jesus Christ was born for this, he opened the heavenly door, we are blessed forevermore. Christ was born for this. Christ was born for this! Amen.
