“Mercer”
Ever seen your name on a gravestone? It’s haunting and humbling. I did that again late last year while visiting relatives (living and dead) in New England.
As a pastor, I wrestle with the challenge of communicating and reconciling the tangible resurrection joy we have in Jesus Christ and the reality that we all live on the edge of mortal precipice. 100% of us die. Many of us will die long, slow, painful deaths. Understandably, we usually avoid the thought of death, or preparing for death, until it’s forced upon us. “It’s a downer!” as they say.
We no longer walk by the graves of our relatives on the way to worship as our ancestors did. We’ve moved cemeteries conveniently and safely out of sight.
I find Carl Trueman, writing in the June edition of First Things, quite right and helpful:
As Paul declares, if Christ has not been raised, then Christians are of all people most to be pitied. Yet herein lies a paradox: Christians grieve, too. Indeed, Christians grieve acutely. The hope for the resurrection has to be set within the context of the reality of death, yet that very hope perhaps intensifies the pain. Abraham, the recipient of the covenant promise, weeps for his beloved Sarah. And Jesus himself sheds tears at the tomb of his friend Lazarus, even as he declares himself the Resurrection. Why so? I suspect it is because the very framework of the covenant promise highlights the tragedy that is death. As he stands at the tomb in Bethany, Jesus sees the full horror of what sin has wrought, which only his death and Resurrection can overcome. He knows—he sees—that death is not some part of the natural life cycle. It is a powerful and evil incursion. Yes, we look to the resurrection, but Christians, of all people, should understand the pain and horror that make the resurrection necessary.
If I ruined your weekend please forgive me!
A Place to Write 