Two funerals in two days. Our church said goodbye to a 56 year old brother and a saint who lived 90 years, and for two days in a row we stood to honor them, to honor their grieving families, to witness the end of one type of life and commemorate the beginning of another type. Earth vs. Heaven. Pain vs. Healing. Worry vs. Utter Peace. Abundant life vs. True Living.
It seemed strange, yet fitting, the way the church is decked out for Christmas: sweeping 12 foot Christmas trees covered in twinkle lights, bright red poinsettias, glowing candles, and there among the usual bows and sparkle of Christmas were tucked funeral flowers with memorial ribbons and a casket in the very place where, in a few weeks, a little wooden manger will rest. Our children will walk down the aisles in their too-long robes and their makeshift head coverings, posing as shepherds, wisemen, and angels, watching as the curly-blonde-haired Mary from the sixth grade Sunday school class lays baby doll Jesus on His bed of hay. The two moments couldn’t seem more different: death and life. Yet, it’s completely appropriate that on the day when we watch our children act out the first Christmas, we will inevitably still be picturing the funerals we just witnessed. Death will invade the Christmas scene, as it should.
This is why Jesus came. This is why He laid in a manger and inspired all of the Christmas songs and decorations and traditions. This is why Christmas exists–because death exists, and it is an enemy that needs defeating. As one country song describes it: this is such a strange way to save the world. But when I stood there today and took in the Christmas cheer and wiped sorrowful tears from my face, I could so clearly feel why the joy of the first Christmas is so overwhelming, why it completely changed the world, why it causes people who don’t even acknowledge Jesus as Lord to stop for a few days in December and just take in a little fresh breath of joy and peace. Because whether this world acknowledges it or not, Christmas strikes a hard blow against death and tears and grief. It’s the beginning of the good news. God is keeping His promise. Death will be defeated.
To one side at the front of our sanctuary, there’s a large wooden cross. For the Christmas season, it’s covered in bright poinsettias–we don’t remove the cross from our Christmas thoughts. There’s so much more to that little baby than a touching Christmas story and cute animals and a lovely little creche. Torture and death were coming. The wrath of God. The suffering of the One who humbled Himself not just to lie in a manger, but to hang on a cross. At each of the funerals it’s like the whole gospel was laid out for us in the beauty of Jesus and the tragedy of dying bodies. The Christmas trees twinkled as a reminder of the sweet baby, the casket sat in the forefront, a reminder of why we need a Savior, the ugly cross, made beautiful, loomed as a reminder about what it really took for that little baby to save our souls, and Jesus’ resurrection was preached as a reminder that these bodies lying in caskets would one day come alive again. What hope!
In some sense we should always detect the pall of death at the manger. Jesus entered a dying world so that He could bring hope for eternal life, not just now, when our loved ones are absent with the body and present with the Lord, but there will be some sweet day when death won’t exist. We’ll never again live in fear of it, suffer through it, or watch someone we love endure it. Death will be a distant memory, awake in our hearts just enough to help us remember how great a Savior we worship for all eternity. Imagine living in a world without death. That’s why we have Christmas trees. That’s why we sing “Angels We Have Heard on High.” That’s why we lay out our delicate little nativity scenes–because hope is here. When we stand before a casket and wonder how much more death can take from us, let us also remember that we are standing before the manger, before the cross, before the empty tomb, and that God is still writing this story that wraps up with the end of death forever.
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