A Funeral, and Healing

Last Saturday, I conducted the most difficult funeral so far in my ministry. It was for Ron, a man who was a member of the Beechworth congregation, and lived with mental illness and intellectual disability. There was a very complex family dynamic, as he had been estranged from his sons for many years, although his eldest son had taken significant steps towards reconciliation in the past few years, and had a very significant conversation with Ron on his death bed, which was very special to them both.

I found it very difficult to prepare and find the words to say, as I was already emotionally fragile from other things happening in my life, and Ron was a very dear and well loved member of our congregation, so on this occasion I had a dual role, both as the minister, and also as a mourner. Many people were praying for me, that I would find the right words, and also that I would be able to hold myself together through the service.

The funeral went very well (and I only cracked up once, towards the end)

* The truth was told about the difficulties in Ron's life,

* The pain was acknowledged, and not glossed over

* Ron's life was honoured, and his sister gave a cracking eulogy

* the gospel was proclaimed

* and there were words of healing, which many people told me were helpful for them in the process of grieving and healing of past hurts.

Below is the sermon I preached, using Revelation 21:1-7 as my text (chosen by Ron's son and daughter-in-law).

Much has been said … much more could be said – each of you will have your own memories and stories about the life of Ron. Some of you knew him in his earlier years, and others knew him more recently, here in Beechworth, so I encourage you to continue sharing stories and memories over refreshments after the service.

I met Ron when I first moved up here to be minister in this parish, a little over three years ago, and he’s been a faithful member of this congregation during that time (and had been for some time before that too). I also have many stories I could tell about Ron, and pray your indulgence, as I tell a couple of them.

When I arrived here, there was a list posted on the church noticeboard. A list of Ron’s suggestions for making the church better. Ron loved this church, it truly was his spiritual home, and he thought we should be more proactive about promoting the church and our activities in the local community.

My favourite suggestion on his list was that the church should purchase a quad bike, for the minister (me) to use for pastoral visits around the town, which would also enable me to do letterbox drop of pamphlets advertising the church, between visits, going from one house to the next. I explained to him that I had a car, and would rather use that to get to pastoral visits. He grudgingly accepted that.

Another time, Ron and I were chatting at morning tea, about our respective health issues. When I mentioned the problems with my knees, he said quite earnestly, as only Ron could, “Don’t want to be rude or anything, but do you think it might help if you lost a bit of weight?”

That comment was so typical of Ron- very direct, not especially tactful, but it came from a place of genuine care and concern. Because underneath the sometimes gruff exterior, I believe Ron had an essentially good heart, but, as we heard from his sister in her tribute to Ron, stuff got in the way of people being able to see that a lot of the time.

The Bible reading that we heard today (Rev 21:1-7) speaks about new beginnings, which may seem a little strange, since we’re here today to mark an ending- the ending of Ron’s earthly life. But so often in life; in the world around us and in the Bible, beginnings and endings are closely related.

It’s so often the case that the new and fresh thing can’t begin to grow until the old has passed away and made room for the new to flourish. However, it’s important to realise, as we look at the imagery in this reading from Revelation, that the new heaven and new earth that are spoken of do not simply replace the old, as if God ‘starts all over’. No, there is a sense of continuity; of redemption rather than replacement.

This world, God’s good creation, is not replaced, but redeemed. God does not make ‘all new things’, but rather makes ‘all things new’ (v5). And the ultimate city, the new Jerusalem, bears the name and recognisable features of the original earthly city.

Ron’s life was not easy. The mental and physical limitations he lived with meant that his life wasn’t easy for him, or those around him. Sometimes it seemed like he lived in a cloud of confusion and fuzziness, but every now and then, like the day we had that conversation about my knees, the cloud would clear, and we could get a glimpse of the real Ron, as he was created to be.

One thing that was not fuzzy or confused about Ron’s life was his faith in God. Ron knew that he was loved by God, and he knew that when he died, he would walk straight into the arms of Jesus, the best place he could possibly be.

So now for Ron, the cloud of fuzziness and confusion has cleared forever; he has left behind the limitations of this earthly life, to be made new in Christ. He’s still Ron, but now is the real Ron, the whole Ron, without any of the impediments that prevented him from being fully the person God created him to be.

For, we are told, that in the new heaven and new earth,... 

God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’

For Ron, this is now his experience. Thanks be to God.