by A.W. Tozer
We have long been of the opinion that for the blood-washed Christian the worst thing about dying is the funeral. Even among gospel Christians the funeral obsequies have degenerated into a gloomy ordeal that leaves everybody miserable for days. The only one not affected by the general heaviness that hangs over everything is the servant of God who has died and in whose honor the service is held. He has gone where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary be at rest. The minister and the undertaker, however, see to it that those who remain are neither untroubled nor at rest.
An odd contradiction exists here, for dolefulness is just what everybody is trying to avoid. Every effort is made to create the impression that the deceased is not really dead, and that the cemetery is not a graveyard at all but a pleasant park where everything is bright and full of cheer. Strangely enough, in spite of this obvious effort, the average funeral (even the Christian funeral) succeeds only in accenting the presence of death all the more. The dimmed lights, the low music, the smell of cut flowers, the unnatural tones of the minister and his slow march ahead of the coffin all contribute to the feeling of utter futility with which the service is charged.
We can't beat death by setting it to music. The instinct of the human heart is too strong to be cheated by little well-meant attempts to turn away its thoughts from the serious business of death and dying. Death is a solemn fact. Only unbelief or the insensibility caused by sin prevent the funeral of an unsaved man from being an agony of terror for his unsaved relatives. The honest minister can bring to the funeral of a lost man no real words of hope for the deceased. For the living there is hope, and the minister may do well to point them to the Savior, but if he has a proper regard for the sacredness of his office he will not give the living false hope concerning the dead.
The basic spirituality of any group of professed Christians may be discovered by observing the conduct of its advocates when faced with the harsh necessity of death. Where there is abounding gospel assurance among believers the funeral invariably takes on the air of a celebration rather than of a lamentation. Where that assurance is lacking, the whole atmosphere reveals it, however bravely the minister may quote, "There is no death, what seems so is transition." Where various ecclesiastical wires are pulled in an effort to secure last minute favors for the departed, where every attempt is made to placate death by timid posturing and ingratiating genuflections, we may be sure that the true gospel light has not shined. For a ransomed man knows how to die without crawling, and ransomed men know how to keep their poise in the presence of death.
The early Methodists enjoyed a degree of spiritual victory that lifted them above sorrow at the passing of their brethren. One of their funeral songs, for instance, ran like this:
Hosanna to Jesus on high!
Another has entered her rest:
Another has 'scaped to the sky,
And lodged in Immanuel's breast;
The soul of our sister is gone
To heighten the triumph above;
Exalted to Jesus' throne,
And clasped in the arms of his love.Another song often heard when the Methodists lay away their beloved dead was this:
Weep not for a brother deceased;
Our loss is his infinite gain;
A soul out of prison released,
And freed from its bodily chain;
With songs let us follow his flight,
And mount with his spirit above.
Escaped to the mansions of light,
And lodged in the Eden above.How inferior the songs we sing today at the graves of our Christian dead. The note of joyous triumph is gone. The whole mood reflects the plaintive hopelessness of paganism. By our conduct at the funeral of those who sleep in Jesus we effectually cancel out the testimony they gave while they lived. It is time for a change.
We share with other believers the hope that for many of us the return of Christ may circumvent death and project us into the Immaculate Presence without the necessity of dying. But if not, then let there be no gloomy faces among the few that gather to pay their last regards. We lived with the Resurrection in our heart and died in the Everlasting Arms. Hosanna! There's no room there for lamentation.
"I have observed," said the old historian, "that these Christians die well." A Christian can die well because he is the only one who dares to die at all. The lost man cannot afford to die, and that he must die is his infinite woe. A Christian dares to die because his Savior has died and risen. Let us renounce paganism at our funerals and die as we lived, like Christians.
( Article taken from The Price of Neglect, Chapter 2 )
[ Back ]
Place on line by the Neve family. We'd like to hear your comments : click here