As A Child
Sermon
Life Everlasting
The Essential Book of Funeral Resources
Object:
For a great church member
As A Child
Isaiah 40
While I was preparing Ella's funeral service yesterday, my wife was out in the backyard of our house, which is right outside my office window, playing with the two-year-old daughter of a couple with whom we have become close friends. Rebecca is the little girl's name, and I just sat and watched Becca and my wife play for a while.
Becca is a beautiful little girl. Blond hair, blue eyes, melt your heart smile, big delightful giggle, and more energy than a wild monkey. She kicked a big ball around the yard. She and my wife blew bubbles and Becca chased them. She furiously pulled weeds in my wife's flower garden. They went in the house and I went over. She chased the cats and watched the fish. She swung in the hanging hammock chair while I tickled and she laughed loudly. She was alive to everything that was happening around her -- truly alive.
It struck me that that is exactly the way Ella is right now. Truly alive -- like a little child in a big exciting world. And that is the great news of this day. The news is that this woman, Grandma Ella, this sweet, kind, gentle, humble Ella, is truly alive. Those, by the way, are the qualities that make this such a hard day, because of the kind of person she was. She was an important part of your lives, wasn't she? Even I, and I'm just her pastor, will miss her. She was the kind of person who you loved to love. She was fun to visit. I listened to her brag about her children and all the grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I listened to her worries over other's health and her concerns about friends' illnesses. Ella's family was her life. She loved all of you; had a big soft heart that went out to each one of you. And when you were around her you felt good; felt important, because you were important to her. She didn't have to tell you. She didn't have to buy you a gift or write you a letter to let you know -- you just knew it when you were with her. You were important to her.
She made me feel good, too. No matter how often, or how rarely, I would visit her over the years she would greet me graciously. She made me feel that she was glad to see me and that was all that mattered. She'd ask about my little son -- who is no longer little -- but she hadn't seen him for a few years now that she was laid up. "He's so cute," she'd say. And she would comment about how well she thought things were going at the church. She never focused on the negative, and so, she made me feel good, appreciated.
And often, especially when she was in the hospital, I'd give her a little kiss on the cheek or forehead before I'd go and she'd say thanks for coming. You could very easily look at Ella's life and say she never did anything great in her life. And in some respects I guess you'd be right. She never got famous, never made a fortune, never wrote or painted or sang or danced her way to the top. But in the respects that count with God she did do many great things. She loved and cared for all of you. She made your lives better, made you better people by showing you how it was done. That's real greatness.
Quietly, gently, humbly, she did the work God put her here to do. That's why today is a hard day. That's why we'll miss her.
But let's not forget the good news of this day. The good news that this woman, Grandma Ella, sweet, kind, gentle, humble Ella isn't dead at all. The good news that she is no longer weak, weary, broken, grieved, but is alive; is made new. The good news is that today she is like a little child.
Today, Ella is wide eyed and full of energy; her cup is overflowing with joy. And she will be that way from this day forth and forever more. She will be that way when you get there and meet her again face to face.
Today, Ella lives like she has never lived before!
Hallelujah! Amen!
As A Child
Isaiah 40
While I was preparing Ella's funeral service yesterday, my wife was out in the backyard of our house, which is right outside my office window, playing with the two-year-old daughter of a couple with whom we have become close friends. Rebecca is the little girl's name, and I just sat and watched Becca and my wife play for a while.
Becca is a beautiful little girl. Blond hair, blue eyes, melt your heart smile, big delightful giggle, and more energy than a wild monkey. She kicked a big ball around the yard. She and my wife blew bubbles and Becca chased them. She furiously pulled weeds in my wife's flower garden. They went in the house and I went over. She chased the cats and watched the fish. She swung in the hanging hammock chair while I tickled and she laughed loudly. She was alive to everything that was happening around her -- truly alive.
It struck me that that is exactly the way Ella is right now. Truly alive -- like a little child in a big exciting world. And that is the great news of this day. The news is that this woman, Grandma Ella, this sweet, kind, gentle, humble Ella, is truly alive. Those, by the way, are the qualities that make this such a hard day, because of the kind of person she was. She was an important part of your lives, wasn't she? Even I, and I'm just her pastor, will miss her. She was the kind of person who you loved to love. She was fun to visit. I listened to her brag about her children and all the grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I listened to her worries over other's health and her concerns about friends' illnesses. Ella's family was her life. She loved all of you; had a big soft heart that went out to each one of you. And when you were around her you felt good; felt important, because you were important to her. She didn't have to tell you. She didn't have to buy you a gift or write you a letter to let you know -- you just knew it when you were with her. You were important to her.
She made me feel good, too. No matter how often, or how rarely, I would visit her over the years she would greet me graciously. She made me feel that she was glad to see me and that was all that mattered. She'd ask about my little son -- who is no longer little -- but she hadn't seen him for a few years now that she was laid up. "He's so cute," she'd say. And she would comment about how well she thought things were going at the church. She never focused on the negative, and so, she made me feel good, appreciated.
And often, especially when she was in the hospital, I'd give her a little kiss on the cheek or forehead before I'd go and she'd say thanks for coming. You could very easily look at Ella's life and say she never did anything great in her life. And in some respects I guess you'd be right. She never got famous, never made a fortune, never wrote or painted or sang or danced her way to the top. But in the respects that count with God she did do many great things. She loved and cared for all of you. She made your lives better, made you better people by showing you how it was done. That's real greatness.
Quietly, gently, humbly, she did the work God put her here to do. That's why today is a hard day. That's why we'll miss her.
But let's not forget the good news of this day. The good news that this woman, Grandma Ella, sweet, kind, gentle, humble Ella isn't dead at all. The good news that she is no longer weak, weary, broken, grieved, but is alive; is made new. The good news is that today she is like a little child.
Today, Ella is wide eyed and full of energy; her cup is overflowing with joy. And she will be that way from this day forth and forever more. She will be that way when you get there and meet her again face to face.
Today, Ella lives like she has never lived before!
Hallelujah! Amen!
