We Remember And Anticipate
Sermon
Best Funeral Meditations
for a neighbor, friend, and mom
Michael B. Brown
We gather in this place on this day for a service of memory and anticipation. We remember the life of a loved one and the promises of God. And we anticipate the fulfillment of those promises in the life of her whom we mourn and in our own lives as well.
____________ was a wife, mother, and cherished friend. She was a person who across many years gave of herself for the sake of others, loving, teaching, and nurturing at home, in the community, and the church. One here remembers her as a life partner, a woman who shared his hopes and dreams, who joined with him in the parenting of three beautiful children, and who enhanced his understanding of the meaning of grace.
Three remember her as "Mom," one who changed their diapers, sang them lullabies, rocked them to sleep, chauffeured them to school functions, chaperoned their parties, ironed their shirts and dresses, fixed their meals, read them bedtime stories, and kissed their hurts away. In time she became for them the model of what it means to be an honest, hard--working, sensitive, Christian adult. Now, as long as they live in the memory of her witness, she will live through them.
Many remember her as a neighbor, friend, or church member. In every role she touched our lives with charm and wit, with courage and hope, with kindness and faith. We at this church recall with gratitude the long hours of volunteer activity she rendered in countless activities, especially with older adult ministries. And we always knew her love for the church revealed a deeper love for the Lord of the Church.
Likewise, today we remember promises God made in both our scripture lessons. The first came from Psalm 23. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me." Two important words are articulated there. First, we walk "through the valley of the shadow of death," not into it. We are not abandoned to our grief forevermore. Instead God will lead us through the pain to healing and wholeness on the other side. Second, "Thou art with me." As we face this time of mourning, there is an unseen Presence walking beside us. And we can lean on that Presence for comfort and counsel when otherwise we would fall. You are not alone in your grief. "I will fear no evil, for thou art with me."
Here's the other promise. In John 14, Jesus said to his disciples: "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 return again and receive you unto myself, that wherever I am you may be also." What we call "death," Jesus calls "homecoming." There is a room in the Father's house, he said. It has been prepared by his own hands for your wife, for your mom, for our friend. Last week when you stood at a hospital bed, saying, "Good--bye," Jesus stood at the front door of the Father's house, saying, "Hello." In that promise we find our ultimate strength for facing this loss and all others like it: the promise of life beyond this life in a place where there is no sickness, no sadness, and no death. The risen Christ has made provisions for those whom he loves. And he loves your wife, your mother. And last week when you released her, his arms were open wide to embrace her.
Dr. Michael B. Brown is the senior minister of Central United Methodist Church, Asheville, North Carolina.
Michael B. Brown
We gather in this place on this day for a service of memory and anticipation. We remember the life of a loved one and the promises of God. And we anticipate the fulfillment of those promises in the life of her whom we mourn and in our own lives as well.
____________ was a wife, mother, and cherished friend. She was a person who across many years gave of herself for the sake of others, loving, teaching, and nurturing at home, in the community, and the church. One here remembers her as a life partner, a woman who shared his hopes and dreams, who joined with him in the parenting of three beautiful children, and who enhanced his understanding of the meaning of grace.
Three remember her as "Mom," one who changed their diapers, sang them lullabies, rocked them to sleep, chauffeured them to school functions, chaperoned their parties, ironed their shirts and dresses, fixed their meals, read them bedtime stories, and kissed their hurts away. In time she became for them the model of what it means to be an honest, hard--working, sensitive, Christian adult. Now, as long as they live in the memory of her witness, she will live through them.
Many remember her as a neighbor, friend, or church member. In every role she touched our lives with charm and wit, with courage and hope, with kindness and faith. We at this church recall with gratitude the long hours of volunteer activity she rendered in countless activities, especially with older adult ministries. And we always knew her love for the church revealed a deeper love for the Lord of the Church.
Likewise, today we remember promises God made in both our scripture lessons. The first came from Psalm 23. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me." Two important words are articulated there. First, we walk "through the valley of the shadow of death," not into it. We are not abandoned to our grief forevermore. Instead God will lead us through the pain to healing and wholeness on the other side. Second, "Thou art with me." As we face this time of mourning, there is an unseen Presence walking beside us. And we can lean on that Presence for comfort and counsel when otherwise we would fall. You are not alone in your grief. "I will fear no evil, for thou art with me."
Here's the other promise. In John 14, Jesus said to his disciples: "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 return again and receive you unto myself, that wherever I am you may be also." What we call "death," Jesus calls "homecoming." There is a room in the Father's house, he said. It has been prepared by his own hands for your wife, for your mom, for our friend. Last week when you stood at a hospital bed, saying, "Good--bye," Jesus stood at the front door of the Father's house, saying, "Hello." In that promise we find our ultimate strength for facing this loss and all others like it: the promise of life beyond this life in a place where there is no sickness, no sadness, and no death. The risen Christ has made provisions for those whom he loves. And he loves your wife, your mother. And last week when you released her, his arms were open wide to embrace her.
Dr. Michael B. Brown is the senior minister of Central United Methodist Church, Asheville, North Carolina.
