“On Death and Dying”
On the eve of his death, Jesus speaks to his disciples about their fears, their anxieties, their despair in what has become known as his Farewell Discourse. In the midst of all their confusion, in our scripture reading, Jesus has words of comfort to offer. (Read Text)
This morning we conclude our sermon series on the adult life cycle. We have talked about singleness, marriage, divorce, parenting, and old age. For our final time today, we will talk about our dying days, and more specifically, our grief. Grief is the natural response when we lose a loved one.
It seems in recent days, many of
us here at
Whether you are 16 or 60, we all grieve at times in our life. Or as Jesus put it so succinctly, “In this world you have tribulation.” We all will grieve because we will all die, and when loved ones die, there is great sadness. I stand before you today to say that life is hard. But I also stand before you to say that in the midst of all the pain, God is good. I suppose that is my thesis for my sermon this morning: life is hard, but God is good.
In 1969 psychologist Elisabeth Kubler-Ross wrote the classic “On Death and Dying,” which outlined five very definable stages of grief that most everyone goes through in the grieving process. The work of social scientists since then have only confirmed her findings. When we lose a loved one, we grieve. Grief comes in other circumstances as well, when there is divorce, a loss of a job, when a child leaves home, when we move. What I am sharing about losing a loved one is equally valid in other situations of crisis. Not everyone grieves the same way. Different people naturally have different responses and move through the stages in different ways.
The first stage of grief is denial.
The pain and grief hurt so bad that the only way a person can respond is
to deny its reality. “I feel fine. This can’t be happening,” we sometimes
say. One who is in denial will often go
through the first few weeks of losing a loved one as if everything is
fine. And sometimes we in the Christian
community will see such a person and marvel at how “strong” their faith is,
especially as they haven’t even shed a tear.
But in reality, it’s not about strength of faith; it’s about denial of
pain. It is pretending that at some
moment they are going to wake up and discover that it is a bad d
Another stage of grief is anger. “Why me?” we may say. “It’s not fair. No. No. How can I accept this?” Anger is often directed at the person who is sick or dying or who has died. Often the anger is directed at God. It is tragic when people get locked into that. They can never work through their bitterness, and they go through life feeling nothing but anger.
A third stage of grief is bargaining. “Just let me live to see my children graduate. I’ll do anything. Can’t you stretch it out? A few more years.” Often such bargaining is done out of guilt. Sometimes we say, “I didn’t do enough. I should have recognized the illness sooner. I should have insisted that she go to the doctor sooner.” At times, our guilt arises because we feel that God is punishing us for some unconfessed sin. If that describes you, then please listen carefully. All sin may cause suffering, but not all suffering is caused by sin. I repeat: all sin may cause suffering, but not all suffering is caused by sin.
A fourth stage of grief is depression. “I’m so sad. Why bother with anything? I’m going to die. What’s the point?” At this point, we live life just going through the motions. We neglect our friends and family. We neglect ourselves. We hurt. The pain—the sense of loss—is so excruciating. It’s like we’re walking around as zombies, the living dead.
A final stage of grief is acceptance. “It’s going to be OK. I can’t fight it. I may as well accept it.” This is the stage that, I think, we would all want to ultimately arrive at. Each of these stages represents a coping mechanism as we move through our grieving process. You can’t get locked into one stage. It is important that we move to the point where there is peace and acceptance of death and loss. The anger, the sadness, the mourning have tapered off, and we can now resume a healthy life. The five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. The psychologists have a lot to offer to help us heal from our grieving.
But what do we, the church, have to offer? What do we teach? We teach good news. We don’t teach the immortality of the soul as is commonly believed. That is not a Christian idea. That is a pagan Greek philosophy. We teach the resurrection of the body. When a person dies, he/she goes into the presence of God. In God’s time, we believe, they are given a new body, one that will last through eternity. Paul describes it as a seed springing forth into a body that God has chosen. (1 Corinthians 15:38)
“Because I live,” Jesus says,
“you also shall live. I go to prepare a
place for you.” (
I love the story of a doctor who was called to the home of a terminally ill patient. The patient asked the doctor his view of heaven. “I’m not afraid to die, but I want to know what the other side is going to be like.” The doctor was unable to respond at first, until he heard scratching on the front door of the patient’s home and the whining of a dog. He remembered that when he was called to the man’s house his little pet had jumped into his car. The doctor had left the car window open. The dog was trying to get in the room to be with his master. Suddenly, it dawned on the doctor. “I can answer your question. Do you hear my dog scratching? He does not know what is in here, but he is trying to get in because he knows that I am in here. Likewise, regarding heaven, we do not know the details. All we know is the Master is there!”
Jesus says, “I go to prepare a place for you…and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.” Such words meant so much to me over 15 years ago as my mother lay dying. I experienced some of the deepest grieving I have ever had to do. I had the good fortune to be nearby throughout her dying days. It was an honor to be a big part of that difficult time. I hold many special memories.
One I remember so clearly. It was Mom’s next to last day on earth. A good friend, a pastoral counselor named Henry, came by to do his final session with Mom. After fighting cancer for some five years, Mom had reached a comatose state. She lay in bed unresponsive to anything and breathing very slowly and deliberately. But that didn’t stop Henry. He sat next to her, grabbed Mom’s hand, and he spoke to her very tenderly. He did some visualization exercises with her as he talked about the love of her family and friends and many special memories. Then he talked about letting go of her family on earth and walking to “the other side” to a place of no more pain. It was a beautiful place, where Mom would come face to face with her deceased parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles and loved ones and even the child she lost giving birth. They would be waiting for her in joyful anticipation on the other side. Henry then finished his meditative talk commending these words to Mom, “I am deeply grateful to God for the privilege of having lived.” I am convinced that though she seemed unconscious—I understand from the experts that hearing is usually that last sense to go—Mom heard every word that Henry spoke to her that day, and that conversation helped give her the peace to let go. She died the next day.
I wish I knew what Mom’s afterlife is like now. I wish she were here. Maybe in a way she is. I have no idea really what heaven is like. But I believe that it is a place full of activity, where we grow in the grace and love of God. While I am in no rush to get there, when I do, I can’t wait for my reunion with Mom and to be in the very presence of my Master. Death holds a beautiful promise for us as Christians—that we will abide in the very presence of God forever. But let’s not be Pollyanna. The pain of the loss can be deep and wide for those left behind.
Jesus’ disciples knew something
of that pain. When Jesus had reached the
last week of his life, he gathered his disciples in the
Jesus’ words of assurance to the disciples contain a new promise. The promise is they will not be alone, but they will live in the peace of Jesus. Such peace is not like the world’s peace, not the false promise of security or even the end of conflict. It is his peace, a peace that derives from the heart of Jesus’ life. It is all embracing and brings deep abiding joy even in the midst of pain and suffering.
I once heard that grief is like the survival of a tree during winter (Henry Close). During the harshness of winter, nothing is asked of the tree but to survive. The leaves fall off and the tree becomes barren and ugly. But beauty is not called for in the winter. All that is called for is survival. There may be ice storms that break some of the limbs of the tree, leaving an open wound. But healing is not called for in winter. To all outward appearances, the tree is lifeless and dead. But growth is not called for in winter. All that is asked of the tree is to survive.
Finally in the beginning of spring, the days become longer and there is more light than darkness. The harshness and cold of winter give way to the warmth of spring. In response to this light and warmth, the tree comes to life again. The sap is drawn by the increasing warmth of the world up through the trunk and out into the limbs and branches and twigs. Only then are healing and growth asked of the tree. But during the coldness and harshness of winter, all that is asked is to survive.
Grieving is like that. We are caught up in the winter of our losses. We despair of spring ever coming. But down in the deepest grounding of our lives, to which we withdraw, there, surrounding us with warmth and protection, is God. And spring does come, in its own time, and we can feel alive again.
Wherever you are, my friends, in the journey of life, whether single, married, or divorced, whether young, middle-aged or old, whether you are in a deep grief or you feel like you are on a roll, know with full assurance that God is with you, and that God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will NOT fear! Thanks be to God. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer: We thank, O God, for the safe places to which we can retreat during the winters of our lives, for You are there to protect and to sustain us. We thank You for the springtimes that call us to life again, for You are there also, to encourage and bless us. We thank You for the people who have contributed to our lives, and have meant so much to us that we are devastated at their loss. And so we commit to You the deepest yearning of our hearts, in the name of Christ our Lord, who taught us to pray together, saying, “Our Father…”