In the introduction to his message yesterday, our pastor made the statement that life is like an overstuffed suitcase. He mentioned Matthew, his sister's oldest son whose untimely death was the catalyst for an overwhelming sense of grief. Ma…
In the introduction to his message yesterday, our pastor made the statement that life is like an overstuffed suitcase. He mentioned Matthew, his sister's oldest son whose untimely death was the catalyst for an overwhelming sense of grief. Matthew seemingly had it all. He was smart, athletic, and personable. He married in his thirties and he and his wife became parents a year later. The next year, with everything in the world to live for, Matthew became ill. He went through treatment for sixteen months and then he was gone.
Our pastor officiated at his nephew's funeral and at the graveside. He said something closely akin to: "The only hope that day was the family that surrounded us and the empty tomb in Jerusalem from which Christ Jesus arose. As children of God, we have this promise: 'He that believeth in me, though he were dead; yet shall he live."
The story he shared was a trigger that reminded me of the story of my mother's youngest brother. He was diagnosed with cancer at the age of twenty-one while stationed in Japan while serving in the U.S. Army. He subsequently returned home, broke up with his girlfriend because his life expectancy was extremely short, and he believed she needed a more optimistic future. The doctors gave him six months to live.
My uncle moved from his parent's home in Ringgold, TX because everyone he knew treated him as though he was sick. He subsequently, came and stayed with our family in Odessa, where he found work and was in an environment where no one he worked with knew he was sick.
The girlfriend he broke-up with had a different mindset. She had an aunt in Odessa, and she followed closely behind him and found work in Odessa. In short order, my uncle and his girlfriend married, bought a home, and resolved to live life to the fullest for the time he had left. They were parents with a one-year-old when he died.
As the family subsequently gathered at the small Baptist Church in Ringgold for his funeral and stood together at the cemetery, the reminder of eternal life for the children of God provided comfort amid our loss. I was thirteen years old at the time and I will never forget that day.
Our church was filled with many yesterday and I'm very certain the words shared by our pastor resonated with all who were present. My favorite hymn is Because He Lives. Perhaps the words resonate with you as well:
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