“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” Romans 12:15. Simple. Imperative.
Yesterday I had lunch with an old friend who lost her husband a year ago and we compared some notes and shared our stories of grief. Daily I talk with the friend of my son who lost his wife about the same time I lost Pam and we share our grief burdens with one another.
It occurs to me that even our society has embraced this notion that death takes us to “a better place.” I am told by those describing the dead as being “in a better place,” even when the teller and the decedent have shown no inkling of Christian beliefs. I suppose that is intended to bring us comfort. But is it a false comfort? The writer of Romans, in the verse above, tells us, who are Christian, to rejoice with those who rejoice and to weep with those who weep, without qualification. Without reservation.
Is it possible that in the 2 millennia following Christ’s death, burial and resurrection that society has been inculcated through Christian life and influence? Even if their hope is misaligned.
Read these ancient epitaphs:
I was not, I was, I am not, I don’t care.
May the earth lie light upon thee.
A tomb now suffices him for whom the world was not enough
No friend ever served me, and no enemy ever wronged me, whom I have not repaid in full.
After breaking my opponent Demetrius, I did not kill him immediately. Fate and the cunning treachery of the summa rudis [umpire] killed me.
There is no hope in these ancient epitaphs. These are men who died without hope and the vanity of their souls shines through; though dead, they speak.
My point is this, these is a general hope communicated among and to those who grieve in our modern age. Is this a Christian influence upon a world that has witnessed for 70 generations the hope of Christians as we grieve and of a culture that has taken upon itself a certain, even if illegitimate, hope?
Guy Waters, in his book, Facing the Last Enemy, Death and the Christian, points us to the words of the apostle Paul to the Thessalonians for our comfort. “Their believing loved ones have died, and they do not know how to respond biblically. Paul is concerned that they will lapse into the familiar cultural response of griev[ing] as others who have no hope” (v.13) the author goes on to write that the Bible does not do away with our grief, but it does transform it. The apostle offers five lines of comfort:
First, in verse 14: “We believe that Jesus died and rose again.” Jesus conquered death. In like manner we shall too.
Second, in verse 16: our loved ones, preceding us in death, are “dead in Christ.” Nothing, including death, destroys the bond wherein we are united to Christ.
Third, also in verse 16: “the dead in Christ will rise first.” Here he assures these young believers, that though dead, their loved ones will not miss out. They are the Lord’s “first agenda” upon his return.
Fourth, in verse 17, we find two grand reunions: first with our departed loved ones and then with Christ himself.
Finally, also in verse 17, “we will always be with the Lord” meaning this union with Christ is not passing but eternal. Waters chapter 5
Has the world errantly picked up our distinctively Christian hope? Perhaps. But to we who remain, we should weep with those who are weeping, all the while remembering the eternal hope that is ours in Christ. And to the living, we must demonstrate the true and living hope that is ours and ours alone in Christ.
As we make our elections sure, let us leave our loved ones, at our passing, with the assurances that we too await such a glorious reunion- together and with Christ. That is the hope that is ours. That is the hope that undergirds our grief.
Brad