True Beauty
Sermon
Life Everlasting
The Essential Book of Funeral Resources
Object:
For a well-loved, elderly woman
True Beauty
Romans 8:31-39; Philippians 1:19-24
Once, when I was thirteen or fourteen years old, I was sitting with my mom and a couple of her brothers and sisters at a table at a family picnic. They were talking about their mom, who was my grandmother. In fact, she was the grandmother I had lived with for much of the past seven years. As I sat there, I heard them making fun of my grandmother, even being critical of her. That was not something you did around me. I said, "That's my grandmother you are talking about!"
It seems funny now that I should have been so offended. I know now that grandmother wasn't perfect, no one is. She had her flaws like everyone else, but I loved her with the love of a grandson for a grandmother, and through those eyes, not many of the flaws were often seen. For me, my grandmother was a saint; an angel God left behind here on the earth for me.
I looked at Gladys kind of like that. I know she was flawed. I heard some of the family members the other day talking about how she sometimes demanded attention. They called her, "The Queen." And she was famous for being unable to make a decision of any consequence. And I am sure she had other flaws as well, you all know them. But didn't her beauty really outshine those flaws? She always looked super. Now remember, I didn't meet Gladys until she was almost seventy years old. She was not the physical beauty of her youth anymore, but she always looked fantastic -- and not just because of her appearance. There was a kind of grandmotherly glow about her; a beauty that just flowed out of her.
At the door on Sundays as she left the church, I would say, "You look great Gladys," and she would respond, "Oh, pastor!" and a huge smile would come to her face -- often followed by a little kiss. I loved just seeing her there. When I'd visit her, she always had cookies, and cakes, and coffee. Even lately, when she had such a hard time getting around, she still provided that famous hospitality of hers.
And we'd talk, mostly about her grandkids. I know a lot about you all. I probably know some things you don't want me to know. Then, when I'd get up to go she'd have some stuff for me to take home to my kids. That was one of her things, always thinking of others. Genuine concern! Genuine love.
She was a lover who made us feel loved, made us feel special. That's why I saw her as I did my grandmother; she lived to make her family a good one. You loved her, and I loved her, and we are all going to miss her. She was the quintessential grandmother, just what God made her to be. A gift -- an angel left here by God for us.
I recently watched the amazing and powerful television miniseries, Band Of Brothers. It is the true story of the 101st airborne division in World War II. I watched as these ordinary men, boys really when they began, were brought together, and went through a process that made them not only true men, but heroes. They literally saved the world. Each night I watched, I was brought to a place of reflecting on my own life. To be honest, my life seems pretty insignificant compared to those men. They fought in a battle to save the world, but there is another battle that goes on every day. It is the battle for the hearts of men and women. Some are lost to anger, and bitterness, and hatred, and it is those losses that ultimately lead to bigger wars. If enough of these little battles are won then we never need to fight the bigger battles that those men of the 101st airborne had to fight sixty years ago.
"Our battle is not with flesh and blood," says the Apostle Paul, "but with the principalities and powers that rule this present darkness." It is a battle against spiritual forces that seek to destroy life in little ways every day. You and I are part of that battle every day. Gladys was a warrior in that battle. She fought with her smiles, and sweetness, and cookies, and cakes, and love for you all. She won a lot of battles and a lot of hearts. Your job now is not to let her down. Our job, in the aftermath of losing her, is to pick up the standard that she carried for so many years, and go on winning battles.
Sweet, quiet Gladys, a mighty warrior of God who wielded the weapons of kindness, genuineness, humility, and deep love. Keep her legacy alive. Take up arms and do battle as courageously as she did. Amen.
True Beauty
Romans 8:31-39; Philippians 1:19-24
Once, when I was thirteen or fourteen years old, I was sitting with my mom and a couple of her brothers and sisters at a table at a family picnic. They were talking about their mom, who was my grandmother. In fact, she was the grandmother I had lived with for much of the past seven years. As I sat there, I heard them making fun of my grandmother, even being critical of her. That was not something you did around me. I said, "That's my grandmother you are talking about!"
It seems funny now that I should have been so offended. I know now that grandmother wasn't perfect, no one is. She had her flaws like everyone else, but I loved her with the love of a grandson for a grandmother, and through those eyes, not many of the flaws were often seen. For me, my grandmother was a saint; an angel God left behind here on the earth for me.
I looked at Gladys kind of like that. I know she was flawed. I heard some of the family members the other day talking about how she sometimes demanded attention. They called her, "The Queen." And she was famous for being unable to make a decision of any consequence. And I am sure she had other flaws as well, you all know them. But didn't her beauty really outshine those flaws? She always looked super. Now remember, I didn't meet Gladys until she was almost seventy years old. She was not the physical beauty of her youth anymore, but she always looked fantastic -- and not just because of her appearance. There was a kind of grandmotherly glow about her; a beauty that just flowed out of her.
At the door on Sundays as she left the church, I would say, "You look great Gladys," and she would respond, "Oh, pastor!" and a huge smile would come to her face -- often followed by a little kiss. I loved just seeing her there. When I'd visit her, she always had cookies, and cakes, and coffee. Even lately, when she had such a hard time getting around, she still provided that famous hospitality of hers.
And we'd talk, mostly about her grandkids. I know a lot about you all. I probably know some things you don't want me to know. Then, when I'd get up to go she'd have some stuff for me to take home to my kids. That was one of her things, always thinking of others. Genuine concern! Genuine love.
She was a lover who made us feel loved, made us feel special. That's why I saw her as I did my grandmother; she lived to make her family a good one. You loved her, and I loved her, and we are all going to miss her. She was the quintessential grandmother, just what God made her to be. A gift -- an angel left here by God for us.
I recently watched the amazing and powerful television miniseries, Band Of Brothers. It is the true story of the 101st airborne division in World War II. I watched as these ordinary men, boys really when they began, were brought together, and went through a process that made them not only true men, but heroes. They literally saved the world. Each night I watched, I was brought to a place of reflecting on my own life. To be honest, my life seems pretty insignificant compared to those men. They fought in a battle to save the world, but there is another battle that goes on every day. It is the battle for the hearts of men and women. Some are lost to anger, and bitterness, and hatred, and it is those losses that ultimately lead to bigger wars. If enough of these little battles are won then we never need to fight the bigger battles that those men of the 101st airborne had to fight sixty years ago.
"Our battle is not with flesh and blood," says the Apostle Paul, "but with the principalities and powers that rule this present darkness." It is a battle against spiritual forces that seek to destroy life in little ways every day. You and I are part of that battle every day. Gladys was a warrior in that battle. She fought with her smiles, and sweetness, and cookies, and cakes, and love for you all. She won a lot of battles and a lot of hearts. Your job now is not to let her down. Our job, in the aftermath of losing her, is to pick up the standard that she carried for so many years, and go on winning battles.
Sweet, quiet Gladys, a mighty warrior of God who wielded the weapons of kindness, genuineness, humility, and deep love. Keep her legacy alive. Take up arms and do battle as courageously as she did. Amen.
