I attended a funeral yesterday.
You don't usually enjoy funerals, at least I don't. They're about grief, heartbreak, sorrow, shock, loss, pain... not the types of things you anticipate and look forward too, much less get much joy out of. You don't know what to say to the family...you feel awkward even trying. Funerals are endured not enjoyed.
Yesterday's funeral had all of that, but it also had a surprising element of joy.
It was the funeral for the wife of my friend Larry Burgbacher. By all accounts she was an amazing lady...pastors wife, mother, friend, leader of women...tragically taken in a car wreck two blocks from her home. Just 54 years old...the same age as my mother when she left us so soon.
Her 3 children, each involved in ministry...two in other countries, gave moving testimonies to the value that she brought to their home. Through their tears they opened a window for us into the woman they knew as mom.
I scanned the program to see who would bring the message of comfort for the family and friends and was surprised to see that Larry would be the preacher at the funeral of his wife. My mind was flooded with thoughts: How difficult would that be? How will he hold up? Could I do it?...I didn't even want to go there.
Can I tell you...it was the best message I've ever heard.
He began by establishing the obvious...there were many capable candidates to deliver the sermon that day. Friends in ministry, mentors, each who would have been honored to have been asked and would have no doubt done a good job. But, he said, he knew a secret that none of us were privy too. On more than one occasion she had let him know that he was her favorite preacher. Armed with that knowledge, how could he not be the one to speak at this, her final service in the church they had led together for the past 24 years.
It was in that moment that I abandoned every effort at dignity and wiped my eyes and rapidly running nose on the sleeve of the suit I was wearing, reserved mainly for occasions like this.
He said that for the first two days after her death he was in a fog, not knowing if he could bear the pain, and crying out to God with questions...Why? Why now?...knowing that the answers may be hidden until eternity. Then he thought about the roles she played for him, their family, and the church. She prayed for him, encouraged him, cheered them on, was a role model for the women in the community. Who would do that now?
On the third day he got his answer and the peace that comes with it.
She would. She would continue to fill the roles.
God showed him that she was now a part of the mighty cloud of witnesses referred to in Hebrews, and that her role in heaven was simply an expanded version of what she did on earth. She was now free to do more perfectly what she had attempted in this dimension. She would continue to be the intercessor for their family, the one cheering them on until the work is complete.
I guess I knew that...but I had forgotten. Its easy to forget when you get fuzzy about where your treasure is...where your final home is located. We miss them, but somehow they haven't missed a thing.
Larry kept his composure pretty well ...until close to the end. He told us about celebrating their wedding anniversary the previous weekend. He held her in his arms as they took a trip down memory lane, visiting the highlights of 34 years together...not knowing that that chapter of their lives was coming to an end. Then he quoted us Yankee great Lou Gehrig upon his announcement to his fans that he had ALS and would have to retire from baseball - "When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed, that's the finest I know. People say I've been given a bad break, but today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth. I've got an awful lot to live for."
At that point we all lost it along with our heart broken friend...each of us quietly wondering if we would have had the strength to do what he had just done...hoping that we would never face a moment like this.
Yesterday I felt joy in a sad place as I was reminded of the foundations of my faith by a man who'd had his shaken. I think it is probably what the Apostle Paul meant when he said that we mourn, but not as those without a hope.
Thanks Larry...you're my hero.
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