Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14
To
me, to live is Christ, to die is gain. Philippians 1:21
Dave was 17 when I first met him. I was about 25, and straight out of college to
be the pastor of the local Baptist church – single, bearded, and frighteningly
ignorant and naïve.
One of the
leaders suggested that the church needed a young people’s work, and we agreed
to do this together. The first thing we did was to arrange a meeting one
Saturday afternoon to which we invited anyone who might be interested in it.
Two lads whom we had never seen before turned up: one of them being Dave. How
he got to hear about the meeting I have no idea.
But that
meeting was the start of the “Young People’s Fellowship”, as such gatherings
tended to be called at that time. And within a year or two Dave was converted,
baptised and added to the church membership. Marriage to Jean followed, plus
parenthood (times five) and grandparenthood (having moved away thirty years ago
I’m afraid I haven’t kept track of all the grandchildren).
Last Monday,
fifty years on, I was able to attend Dave’s funeral, and I can only describe it
as a massive privilege to be there. The service brought to mind Paul’s glowing
words to the church in Thessalonica: “Brothers and sisters, we do not want you
to be ignorant about those who sleep in death, so that you do not
grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope”.
We certainly
grieved last Tuesday; oh yes. But
equally certainly our grieving was not a hopeless grieving. Oh no! – the
banter and fun, the friendly insults, the vivid memories dredged up from over half
a century, the half-familiar faces half-remembered and then triumphantly pinned
down (“…of course, you’re…!”).
And a short message from
Pastor Tom on how the light of God shines for us even “in the darkest valley” (Psalm
23:4): it was a rich and beautiful mix. The man with whom I started that young
people’s fellowship emailed me that evening: “I hadn’t anticipated those
contacts and they were a blessing to me… it did my soul good”. Too right it did,
John!
Many times over my years as a
minister I have been struck by the enormous difference between truly Christian
funerals and those of people who, to borrow Paul’s words, “have no hope”. How
dreary is the singing; how flat and formal the worship; how heavy the mood. But
then what can one expect when a life has come to its end and the mourners have
nothing to hang on to but vague ideas that the person is somehow “all right”?
Dave’s life wasn’t always easy
(is anybody’s?). He wasn’t always in work; the main jobs I remember him in were
as a green-keeper at a local golf-course, and as a lollipop man shepherding the
children across the road. And an ever-growing family was bound to present
difficulties from time to time. But he was a cheerful and positive man, and
maintained his Christian faith right to the end. To be fair to him, he didn’t really
look like Wurzel Gummidge; that was just my affectionate little joke.
The Thessalonian Christians
were bothered when some of their fellowship died. Would these people miss out
on the great, final event of Christ’s return in glory? They hadn’t anticipated
that; it seems they expected Jesus’ return in their life-times. So Paul writes
to reassure them.
And the essence of his message
is: “They haven’t died! They have simply fallen asleep!” It’s worth noticing
how, in the space of six verses (13-18), that metaphor for death occurs no less
than three times.
Rest, or sleep… it’s a
familiar Bible image, of course. Think of the times we read in Kings and
Chronicles of how a particular king “rested with his fathers”; think of Jesus at
a scene of bereavement: “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going
there to wake him up” (John 11:11); think of Jesus in the house where Jairus’
daughter lay: ‘“Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but
asleep”. But they laughed at him’ (Mark 5:39-40).
Sleep is truly a mysterious
and rather wonderful thing. While we’re doing it we don’t know we’re doing it.
But the moment we wake up we know we’ve done it. Hours pass without our
awareness, and then time resumes its normal pace. Where were we during
those hours of sleep? The answer is: nowhere special, just lying in
unconsciousness, without thoughts, feelings or desires. But the resumption of
conscious life is real and vivid, filling every corner of our minds.
And so it is with death. We
fall asleep in Christ and pass into oblivion. But he will wake us at the right
moment, and then… well, then we will be infinitely more alive than we have ever
been before.
I gather that Jean had taken
Dave a cup of tea. When she went to him again, the tea was still there. But
Dave – bless him – wasn’t; no, he had fallen asleep.
Thanks be to God for his
victory over death!
Thank you, Father,
that your Son Jesus died and rose again. Thank you that death is a defeated
enemy and that as we hold on to you in faith we can be assured that we too will
one day awake from the sleep of death. Help me to live what remains to me of
this earthly life as one who is risen with Christ in glory. Amen.
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