Funerals and Parties

Last week on consecutive days I attended two completely different events.  One cold overcast afternoon I stood on a hillside in Arlington National Cemetery and honored my brother-in-law as he was buried.  The next evening, I sat in a church fellowship hall in Florida with my special needs brother as we celebrated at his organization’s annual Christmas party.  The first event was somber and dignified; the second was light-hearted and fun.

The burial occurred nearly five months after my brother-in-law died; the waiting list at Arlington is that long, so it was, in a sense, the reopening of a wound.  The ceremony itself helped in treating the wound.  I have attended and conducted several military funerals and I am always moved by the intentional and respectful way the service is conducted.  Jim’s body was borne on a caisson pulled by a team of horses.  An Air Force flight of about 20 service members accompanied the procession.  Of course, there was a three-gun salute and the playing of “Taps.”  The military part of the ceremony ends with a slow and deliberate folding of the flag and presentation of it to a relative, in this case my sister-in-law, with the words, “On behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation ….”

The next night we were celebrating with a room full of happy people.  We were treated to a handbell concert by Angelwood clients, some down-home Christmas music by a local trio, pulled pork, banana pudding and a visit from Santa.  It has become a Christmas tradition for us and it is always wonderful to see Bubba’s face light up when he spots us across the room.  Bubba makes it a point to speak to Santa and Santa gives everyone a candy cane.  After chatting with Santa, Bubba went to another table, found his girlfriend, gave her a kiss on the cheek and presented her with the candy cane he had just received from Santa.  Bubba is much more interested in the receiving, rather than the giving, part of the Christmas equation, so I was stunned.  Love  can make us do the unexpected.  We took a picture of the pair and the joy on their faces was beautiful.

I am always fascinated by the juxtapositions life presents us and these two events, so close to one another and both involving family, spoke to me.  Each was a celebration, although the funeral was, of course, tinged with sadness.  Yet in each grace was to be found. In Arlington, we saw the grace of a life well-lived and a husband and father well-loved.  In the church fellowship hall, we saw the grace of simple love and friendship.  We experienced joy in Arlington as we remembered Jim and as the family gathered, ate (of course!) and laughed together.  We experienced joy in Florida as we celebrated with Bubba and as the family gathered, ate (obviously) and laughed together.

His family won’t celebrate Christmas with Jim this year, and that will be hard; we will celebrate with Bubba and that will be fun.  That is symbolic of what so many people experience at Christmas: pain and loneliness for some and joy for others, or some of both for many.  We live in a sometimes painful world and that is to be expected because we live in a fallen world.  Yet Christmas brings the promise of grace and joy to us.  In the midst of pain, we can find joy.

Psalm 126:5 states, “Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting.”  It’s always dangerous to lift a verse out of context, but I think this one works here.  The psalm is one of rejoicing after release from captivity and the verses in the second half of the psalm speak of an unlooked-for harvest which brings joy.  We often shed tears in our heartache, only to find that God ends up blessing us in the sorrow.

Where is the joy to be found in burying Jim?  It is hard to find for us, and I don’t know that my sister-in-law and nephews have found it yet.  But they can know that, as a believer, Jim is living the life the way it was meant to be lived for creatures created in God’s image, and that is incredibly joyful.

The beautiful hymn, “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross”, contains the verse:

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Jesus’ birth was a time of joy.  His death was a time of sorrow, yet also indescribable joy because it offered new life to all who believe, and it happened because of His great love for us.  Sorrow and joy.  Sorrow and love. Funerals and parties.

In times of sorrow, seek the joy the Lord offers.  In times of celebration, embrace the joy.  That’s the wonderful thing about the joy of the Lord – it is consistent and available, whether you’re at a funeral or a party.