Funerals

A friend's mom died over the weekend -- I'm officiating the funeral tomorrow night and just finished up preparations for the service.

Funerals are tough from just about every aspect. I think that what's weirdest about them though is how in such a stark presence of the reality of death, that grim reality is not truly there.

Just ask anyone who has gone through the difficult loss of a loved one -- the funeral can oftentimes consist of a rush of adrenaline, full of plans to be made, the presence of family and sweet memories of a life well-lived. The depth of the death, while terribly painful, is hard to fully realize. A few weeks or months down the road though, that's when it gets tough. That's when the nights are lonelier. That's when great memories bring tears instead of smiles. That's when key times when you would have been together bring back the sting of what should have been.

It's hard to have hope there.

I've had a lot of friends lose people they love over the last few years: Justin and Naomi, Larry, Kati, Ann, Kurt and Sue, Leonard and Mary, Lois, Megan, Julie, Josh, Betty -- to name a few.

I've been reading John 11 pretty often lately; it's the passage where Jesus declares Himself "the Resurrection and the Life". It's also the passage where Jesus weeps. I don't think that Jesus was sad about Lazarus being dead. The passage begins with Jesus finding out that Lazarus was sick. So He, the One who heals the sick, decides to wait a few more days before going to see the family. On the way, Jesus hears that Lazarus died. When He arrives on the scene, the mourners are gathered, the body is buried, the family is grieving. Jesus isn't surprised by any of this -- He intentionally waited.

Have you ever been so angered by something that it brought tears to your eyes? I have. I've gotten so angry and frustrated that I've cried. I think that's what happens with Jesus in John 11. Jesus sees this wreckage that death brings -- a wreckage that He never intended, that is a result of the brokenness and fallenness of this world, and He weeps because this is not the way it was supposed to be.

I wish I could have heard Him say "Lazarus, come forth!". A commentator I read once, I think it was J. Vernon McGee, said (paraphrase here), "Had He not prefaced that statement with Lazarus' name, every grave in Israel and Samaria would have opened and ushered out resurrected bodies!"

Jesus, the Creator of life and Giver of life, hates sin and hates the sting that it brings humankind. It was never supposed to be this way. His children were not designed to feel this pain. When He made the world, there were no plans for graveyards, hospitals, ambulances, or funeral homes.

This is the beauty of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, because in Christ, the way things were meant to be has now been restored. In Christ, the sting of sin and death is gone. In Christ, death is a new chapter in the reality of our present eternal life. In Christ, funerals take on new meaning.

That's not to say that in Christ, there is no pain in the loss of people we love. But it is to say that in a venue of hopelessness, there is hope. In a place that is so dark, there is light. In the presence of death, there is life. The call of suffering is a call to a higher plane of life in Christ.

So to you, my friends who are hurting, I give you these words:

I look up to the mountains--
does my help come from there?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made the heavens and the earth!
He will not let you stumble and fall;
the one who watches over you will not sleep.
Indeed, he who watches over Israel
never tires and never sleeps.
The Lord himself watches over you!
The Lord stands beside you as your protective shade.
The sun will not hurt you by day,
nor the moon at night.
The Lord keeps you from all evil
and preserves your life.
The Lord keeps watch over you as you come and go,
both now and forever.
-- Psalm 121

Pics From Vacation

Christy and Daddy after her first canoe ride.


Here's the kids...all packed in with all our stuff. Lots of stuff. Too much stuff.


Here's a family pic at the scenic overlook...lots of eagles to behold.


Here's the kids in a "cave" in a bunch of gimongous rocks.


Trey conquers the biggest rock in the world!

Reflections From My Vacation

It's been a long time since I posted a new blog because I have been on a vacation with my family. We went to a cabin on the Susquehanna River just north of the Maryland border. It was beautiful. Here's some things that happened.

Trey caught his first real fish -- a ten inch largemouth -- with a grub jig. It was a man's catch. He wasn't interested in cleaning it or eating it.
Ben caught his first fish ever on his first cast ever.
Christy went for her first canoe ride.
Sheri went for her first canoe ride.
I had a great wipeout on a mountain bike trail.
We saw bald eagles.
We went on great hikes and nature walks.
Sheri and I stayed up late talking and reading.
We colored, painted and played with PlayDoh.
We barbecued a lot. I'm a great barbecuer.
We went rock-hopping on some huge rocks.
Plenty of time for napping.
Early morning time with Jesus.
No media all week. No TV, computer, phone, PDA, nothing.
Unplugging is hard.
Unplugging is great.
Unplugging is essential.

Here's some random thoughts I had:

1. Spending all that time with my family made me realized just how much the church is like a family. It's not a business, an institution or an organization -- it's a family. Families are messy, but families are the truest form of community. That's a really deep thought.

2. I really think the Eagles will have a good season this year. Without the TO distraction, and with a healthy McNabb, Westbrook and Smith, I think we can go far in the NFC.

3. Bald eagles are so cool. I was watching an eagle one morning. He was flying way high, circling over a great blue heron. The heron dove at the water and came out with a fish. The eagle pursued the heron, attacked it with his "large talons" (nod to Napoleon), and forced the heron to drop his fish in order to get away. After the heron released the fish, the eagle went into a steep dive, plucked the fish out of the air, took it to his tree and ate it. It was one of the coolest things I've ever seen.

4. Spending all that time with Jesus and my family made me realize again that I need to be cool with being defined by that primarily. I oftentimes define myself by who I am as a pastor/ministry professional. But if I have them, and only them, I'm good to go. Three things I can do that no one else can:
a. no one else can have me relationship with Jesus for me
b. no one else can be a husband to my wife
c. no one else can be a daddy to my kids

It's good to be home. If vacations were normalcy, they would cease to be vacations. Coming back to Lebanon, I was sort of disappointed, but then I realized that we were coming back to our calling in the Kingdom. Staying at the cabin perpetually would mean bailing on who God intends us to be, it would be to miss out on our destiny. It's good to be home again.

Happy Metal

I went to my first real metal show last week at the Troc in Philly. It was the most intense concert experience I've had. The energy level was through the roof. We were up on the balcony, but the floor was insane. I was so glad to not be down there. It was this mass of humanity, moving and singing -- all celebrating the same thing: metal.

I was sitting there watching the most phenomenal guitarist I've ever seen and looking at this crowd and a thought came to me: this is a pretty authentic form of community. A crowd of people coming together for one purpose, thoroughly enjoying that purpose and invading one another's personal space for the sake of the purpose.
When the band was performing its set, everyone was dancing, moshing, yelling, singing along and freaking out during unbelievable guitar solos. These were real music fans too, not teenyboppers celebrating celebrity stereotypes with no musicianship. There was celebration of some incredible creativity, art and beauty. I know a lot of you out there don't get metal, but that's not the point. In the words of Nelson Mandela (I think): "that which is loved is always beautiful". And this crowd rallied around a common beauty that translated into passion.

Makes me wonder why the beauty of Christ that we rally around doesn't translate into passion like that. Would we stand in line for an hour and a half to get to church? Would we stand for four hours while the service goes on? Why do we seem bored with Jesus? He's better than metal -- and that's the understatement of the year.


Totally random thought: I think it's cool that when people get together for a concert, a common form of expression of passion and tribute is for people (people who don't necessarily know Jesus) to raise their hands in the air.