The Hardest Goodbye

Since becoming a pastor back in February I've had an opportunity to be a part of several funerals for elderly men and women. Without question no funeral is easy. I've had the privilege of burying some people who walked with God for many years. People whose funeral was written long before they passed away. The kind where everyone says, "They wrote their own funeral through the way they lived their life." I've also been a part of saying goodbye to some who only by the profession of their mouth was it at all possible to say they knew Jesus. Those are a bit more difficult. All, however have lived a long life. Today, though I didn't take part in the funeral, I attended the hardest goodbye I've seen in my short ministry. As I watched the ministers talk I wondered how I'd be able to make it through were I in their shoes. As I watched the video presentation of the young girl's life flash on the screen I had to look away. It was too hard to see. As I looked at her I saw my daughter and my throat welled up and I was thankful no one tried to talk to me during it. I wouldn't have been able to answer. I was there too late to even be in the sanctuary so I watched on a television and couldn't see the reaction to the family. I can only imagine the visceral emotions that welled up inside of them, and if they didn't let it out they're stronger than I am. There's no good reason to have to say goodbye to your 14 year old child. I don't care that I'm a pastor. I don't care that I'm an adult. I'm a human and a father and I don't want to ever have to do what that family did today. Yet the words of the pastor were the words of God, and that's the ONLY hope we have. That Christ is raised and so we will be too some sweet day. That the tomb our bodies rest in will be broken into by life, where before they dwelled in death. That the same God who said hello to us when we passed away will reunite us with new and perfect bodies. Bodies that will live forever with our savior, Jesus Christ. With those words, Paul said "Comfort each other." And it is a comfort. It's a comfort during the hardest goodbye anyone will ever say. I don't want to say it, but if I do I want someone to tell me about Jesus. About the resurrection. About the Hope of Glory. Nothing else will do. Nothing else is comfort. One day I'd love to meet the girl that was taken on this past Friday. Because of Jesus I'll get that chance. I'm more thankful her mom and dad will get that chance someday.