September 29, 2003

MUSINGS AT A FUNERAL

Recently, I attended the funeral service for a local pastor’s wife. Since I had no responsibilities in the program, I had the opportunity to relax and meditate on some of the things said during the service.

Most of the speakers were ministers who knew the woman’s husband well, but they were not very familiar with her. As a result, they tended to describe her with high-sounding words and phrases.

One speaker used the word “saintly” several times in reference to her. Now, I knew the sister well and always enjoyed her sharp wit and her outgoing personality. However, she never reminded me of Mother Theresa, and I was not ready for her to be canonized.

The very next speaker used a slightly different word; he referred to her two or three times as “our sainted sister.” I liked that a lot better. “Saintly” seemed to be a description of her pious and righteous behavior—a reputation she herself earned. “Sainted,” by contrast, depicted a gift which God had bestowed on her, something which she had not attained on her own.

When I die, you can call me “sainted.” That’s the undeserved status I will have by God’s grace. But please don’t use the word “saintly,” because then my friends will realize you didn’t really know me.

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I was impressed by one speaker’s reference to the woman’s death as her “final testimony.” That really stayed with me. How we go through “the valley of the shadow of death” may be the most effective testimony we ever give to our family and friends. We tend to think of death as defeat, when it really is the great moment of victory for a believer.

In this connection, think of the word “martyr,” one who dies for what he or she believes in. Actually, the Greek word marturos means “witness.” The early Christian martyrs did not see themselves as helpless victims, as they were led to their death. They chose to see their death as an active choice to witness of their faith in Christ’s resurrection by stepping boldly through the doors of death.

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This story was told at the funeral:

A bus driver was near the end of his shift. At the last stop, a few people got off, but one man remained. The driver went back to him and said: “Sir, this is the last stop. The bus will be going to the car barn now, and I’ll be going home.”

The man said: “Just drive on toward the barn, I’ll pull the cord when you get to my stop.” The driver complied.

After awhile, the man pulled the cord, and the bus driver stopped. He said: “Sir, you want to get out here? There’s nothing but a cemetery.”

The man answered: “Yes, but do you see those lights way over there, beyond the cemetery? That’s where I live. I can only get home by going through the cemetery.”

–Pastor George Van Alstine