Transitory Psychosis

I’ll be attending a funeral this weekend. The deceased is a cousin of mine and a long-time pastor. He was, in fact, my pastor for a time when I was in college. You will not find his name among the pastoral “superstars.” He was never invited to speak at a big “church growth” conference or quoted as an authority on preaching. He was, however, a faithful man of God who loved God, loved people, and was true to his calling.

I’m actually looking forward to the service in a way. It will be a celebration of a live well lived and a glorious entrance into heaven. There will be a number of people present whose lives were impacted by the deceased. I expect more than a few admirers and perhaps even some who were not his fans. No doubt, his faithful, compassionate, and often Christlike ministry will be remembered fondly. So, too, will his godly character.

He’s not the only one of his kind. In hundreds of churches, in rural communities and sprawling cities, there are men just like him who serve God and their flocks with dignity and grace. They live exemplary (not perfect) lives, often serving in hard places for low wages. You won’t hear about them on the news. Their congregations are too small for the media to notice and their conduct is too righteous to create a scandal. Their only recognition comes from their small flock and the God who sees all.

One day, these faithful men of God will step into glory and another man, nameless and faceless to this world, will step up to take their place. Friends and family will mourn the passing of these men. Few others will pay any attention.
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In recent days a series of celebrities have died. Three such deaths have prompted my thinking. One was an actor: Farrah Fawcett. One was a musician/entertainer: Michael Jackson. One was a former NFL quarterback: Steve McNair.

Farrah, and MJ were part of my world as a teen. McNair captured my attention after I moved to Tennessee, where he played for the Titans. All three individuals were talented in their own way and rose to public notoriety as a result. Their deaths have left literally millions of people mourning the loss.

Unfortunately, each died with a certain shadow over them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not depreciating their talents and contributions. Judging by the testimonials I’ve seen on TV, all three had a profound positive effect on some people. Still, even their friends have to look past certain indiscretions or unanswered questions to find the good.

I’m not suggesting we adopt a holier-than-thou attitude about these deaths. We’ve all got too many skeletons in the closet to adopt an attitude of moral superiority. What I am reminded of, however, is that in spite of all their accomplishments, all their money, and all their popularity, their lives came to an end.

Some years ago, I did a graveside funeral service for a homeless man. I rode in the hearse (the front seat), alongside the funeral director. Upon arriving at the cemetery, the director recruited four cemetery employees to help carry the casket to the grave. When it was in place, we gathered around –the director, the workers in their dirty jumpsuits, and me. No family. No friends. No acquaintances. None of us even knew the man. I read Scripture. Talked for a moment about the brevity of life and the love of a just God. I prayed. We left.

Today I am reminded that these celebs and that homeless man, though occupying quite different places in life, stood on level ground in the end. Death is the great equalizer. The writer of Hebrews put it this way: “. . . it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” (Hebrews 9:27).

The reality is that every person on this planet will die and all will face their Creator. A sobering thought for all. And for some, a heartbreaking thought.

Jesus, however, offered the counterpoint: “I am the resurrection, and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die” (John 11:25-26). Then Jesus asked, “Do you believe this?” (verse 27). I do. Do you?

Perhaps the most difficult funerals I’ve conducted as a pastor have been for individuals who have committed suicide. Some of the deceased carried out the act in a very well-planned careful manner designed to spare loved ones the worst, complete with a detailed note. Others seemed to make the decision in a split moment, the result of a quick response to an overwhelming moment. At least one took his life in a way that it seemed an intentional effort to cause as much hurt and pain to the survivors as possible.

It’s difficult to know what to say when a person takes his or her life. It is most often a decision borne of despair–the conclusion that things will never be different or never get better. Among Christians, the often unspoken question is did the deceased go to heaven or hell? Answering that question is impossible. Here’s why:
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Most of the time, life is fun. I enjoy what I do. I have a great wife, excellent kids who married well, the world’s best grandchildren, and much, much more. Today, though, I am reminded that an enemy lurks in the shadows, not far from any of us.

Two of my friends are mourning today. This weekend, one’s father died in his sleep. The other friend’s wife lost her battle with cancer. Reality came for a visit.

In the face of death, the promise of heaven is more real than ever. The good news for those who know Him is that Christ has made death a doorway into an eternity of joy. For the believer, death is not the end. It is only the beginning.

One day we will never again say goodbye to those we love. Until then, we place our hope in God and lean on our brothers and sisters in Christ for support. Pray for my friends, Don and Mike today. Remember their hurting families and churches as well. Thanks.

Yesterday’s online edition of the New York Times included a powerful story of Theresa Brown, a new nurse, and her first experience with the sudden, unexpected death of a patient (referred to by the staff as Condition A). The story, “Perhaps Death Is Proud; More Reasons to Savor Life,” is a moving account of the demise of a female lung cancer patient that was soon to be released to return home.

In a matter of moments, the woman went from seemingly doing well to spitting up blood. In an instant, she was being worked on by a roomful of medical professionals and in spite of their best efforts, she died. (Read the full story here.)
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I’ve been pretty silent on this blog of late. My silence is partly because of my extremely hectic schedule in recent days. But it has also been due to a nagging thought I wasn’t sure I really wanted to put into words. I’ve decided I need to do it, even though it’s not the usual lighthearted or fun post that is common on many blogs. I apologize in advance for the melancholy mood of this post.
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We were listening to the Brian Mason show on the way to church last Sunday. Brian is a DJ in the Nashville area that has been around contemporary Christian music since its early days. I like his show because he frequently plays some of the old stuff that you don’t hear today.

Anyway, he devoted Sunday’s show to remembering Rich Mullins who died 10 years ago in a car accident. Whatever one thinks of his music, Rich was an interesting fellow who often saw things from an unusual perspective.
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I went to a viewing last night–that strange custom we have of putting dead bodies on display for family and friends. I’ve been to many such events, conducted many funerals, and mourned over the loss of a few loved ones of my own. The same thought runs through my mind: So this is what it comes down to.

We all know death is looming. We know it can show up on our doorstep at any time to take a family member, friend, or even us. Sometimes it happens quickly–alive and well one moment, lifeless the next. Sometimes it is agonizingly slow. But, we all know the truth–nobody gets out alive.
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