Goodbyes Stink

I checked my phone and saw who had called. Him calling me at 8am on a Sunday wasn't good. "Jon, I wanted you to know that Dad's gonna hear you preach in heaven today." Those words took my breath away. My friend, Ray, had died last Sunday, November 18, and his son, Danny, called me with the news. I sat down at my desk, put my head in my hands, and wept.

In my vocation as pastor, I deal with death and dying on a regular basis. I've lost track of the times I've spoken the words of the Rite of the Commendation of the Dying, yielding our loved ones to the Lord's care: "Father, into your hands we commend his spirit." Dozens of times, I've made the sign of the cross and spoken a final blessing over the body of the dead, "Now may God the Father who creates this body; may God the Son who redeemed this body with His own precious death; may God the Holy Spirit who sanctified this body in the waters of Holy Baptism, bless and keep these remains until the resurrection of all flesh."

I tell you this so you understand I am no stranger to death and dying. Most of those times, I do so with dry eyes. Yes, I have shed a tear; once or twice I've even had to pause to collect myself, clear my throat, and with a deep breath continue.

But this has hit me hard. All week long, as I've remembered my friend, my throat has gotten tight,  my chest felt heavy, my eyes moistened, and a tear would trickle down my chest. It hurts. My friend has fallen asleep in Jesus.

Oh, I know the answer is in Christ: don't misunderstand me. I know, believe, trust and rely that in Christ's death and resurrection, He has conquered sin, death and the grave. I trust Jesus' promise, "I am the resurrection and the life... He who lives and believes in me will never die." With Martha, I answer Jesus' question, "Do you believe this?" with "Yes!"

But, remember, even after this exchange, when Jesus stood outside his friend's tomb, He wept. Honest tears, hot tears, sad tears. Death isnt supposed to happen. God didn't create man to die; He created man to live. Jesus wept because death was interrupting life.

Yes, He knew He would interrupt death by raizing Lazarus and then with His own resurrection. But in that moment, death hurt.

Death is hurting today. It has all week. I tried and failed to sing "I Know That My Redeemer Lives." Tears ran hot and free. I choked up offering condolences to the family. And when I shook Danny's hand, we were two sons who lost fathers and two men who had both lost friends in each other's fathers.

That's where I am.
This is who I am:
A Christian...
Who hurts..
Trusting in the promise of Jesus...
While knowing His tears.