Sermon: 1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18 Good Grief

When I was growing up, my heart was set on becoming a journalist. So all my work experience was in local newspapers. My subjects for A-Level and my university were all geared towards journalism. And then, in the summer before I started university, God ambushed me with the call to ministry.

For the three years of my course, I was fighting against God’s call. And I had my reasons all stacked up. I didn’t think I would be able to preach (maybe you think that too!); I didn’t really like hospitals and medical stuff; and I definitely wouldn’t be able to be do funerals. As you can see, God won out in the end, and here I am. And when I was ordained as Curate, I had a few weeks to work with the rector before he headed off on holidays. We’d be able to do any funerals together. Well, there were none. And then the morning he was heading off on holiday, probably just as he was getting onto the plane, the local undertaker rang to say that I was about to do my first funeral.

When it comes to death and dying and what happens next, there are lots of questions. Questions that you might think, but have never said out loud. And as time goes on, and you encounter loss - whether sudden or expected - the questions are still there, and never really answered.

It seems that the Thessalonian Christians had questions too. You see, so far, we’ve heard all about the things that they knew. Last week, we saw that they knew how to live to please God, by loving one another. But there were some things they weren’t quite sure about. And it’s understandable. Paul and the team had only been in Thessalonica a short time. He had shared as much as he could, but he wasn’t able to tell them everything. That’s why he prays that he’ll be able to get back to see them. It’s why he sent Timothy to see them.

And now Timothy has returned to Paul, bringing the good news of their continuing faith, but also bringing news of their uncertainty about death. It seems that some of the Christians in Thessalonica had died in the short time since Paul’s visit. And that leads to the question - what happens to them when they die? Will they miss out on the excitement of the return of Jesus? Are they gone forever or will we see them again?

Those are the questions that Paul is answering as he writes this section of the letter. And in verse 13, we see his purpose in writing these verses: ‘Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope.’

Paul’s purpose is to provide information, so that they won’t be ignorant (without knowledge); but more than that, he wants to provide inspiration. We don’t want you to be ignorant, so we’ll tell you what the story really is. And we don’t want you to grieve like other people, who have no hope.

He is’t saying that Christians shouldn’t grieve. He’s saying that we shouldn’t grieve like other people, who don’t have the hope that we do. We mourn and grieve - but we don’t do it in the same way as other people. The answer is to have ‘good grief’ or hope-filled grief.

Rather than speculating about what may or may not happen, Paul grounds everything that he says in objective fact. He points to what has already happened to the Lord Jesus: ‘We believe that Jesus died and rose again.’ (14) That shouldn’t come as a surprise to you - we say that every week in the creed, whichever creed we use. It’s the basis of our Holy Communion service, as we reflect on all that Jesus did - he died on the cross, and he rose again to new life.

This is what we believe as Christians. But it also leads us to believe something else: ‘and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.’ (14)

Because Jesus died and rose again, it means that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. Did you notice how Paul describes these believers? They have ‘fallen asleep’ - verse 13 and here in verse 14. To die as a Christian is like falling asleep - with the understanding that the one sleeping will waken again. And they have ‘fallen asleep in him.’ They are in Christ - united to him, with him - which is why God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. When the believer dies, their soul is immediately with the Lord in what we call heaven; their body is laid in the ground, sleeping, awaiting the resurrection to new life.

To be in Jesus is to be with Jesus - to go where he goes and to stay where he stays. It’s a bit like getting onto a bus. Where the driver takes the bus, you go too. Where he goes, you go. And the hope that we have is that Jesus is going to return.

Now, sometimes, we use that word hope in a wishful thinking, not sure if this really will happen kind of way. I hope it’s a nice day tomorrow. I hope my team win. I hope I get a space at the hospital car park. But the hope that we have - the hope of Jesus’ return to this earth - this isn’t like those wishful thinking, maybe possibly kind of hopes. No, this hope of Jesus’ return is absolutely certain. It’s sure enough to build your life upon. It means that you don’t have to grieve like people who have no hope.

And in verse 15, we see what our hope is. ‘According to the Lord’s own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep.’ Those who have died, trusting in Christ, aren’t going to miss out; they’re not going to be second class citizens; they’re not going to be at the back of the queue. And we, who are left, who are alive when Jesus returns - we aren’t going to precede them.

So what will it be like? Verse 16 shows the events of that day: ‘For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God.’ When Jesus returns, we’re not going to miss it - he will be accompanied by these sounds - a loud command, an archangel’s voice, and the trumpet of God. All announcing his return. All heralding his coming.

And what will happen when Jesus returns? ‘and the dead in Christ will rise first.’ (16). When Jesus returns, those who have died in Christ will rise from their graves. Do you remember when Jesus raises Lazarus from the grave in John 11, and he calls to him, ‘Lazarus, come out’? A famous preacher said that he used the name of Lazarus, otherwise everyone in the tomb would have arisen. But that’s what will happen on the last day, when Jesus returns.

Then, the next bit in verse 17. ‘After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord for ever.’

All believers, whether they have died or whether they are living, will meet the Lord. And it’s not just a passing glance, or a brief encounter - we will be with the Lord for ever. Maybe over the halfterm holiday, you’ve gone to visit family. You’ve spent a day or two with them, but the time comes when you have to return home again. School or work is back tomorrow. Or maybe over the summer holiday you spent the whole two months with family, and it was great, but even then, the time comes to leave them. When that day comes, when we see the Lord, we will be with him for ever. There’ll never come a time when we have to depart. We’ll never again be absent from him.

This is good grief; or hope-filled grief. When a loved one dies, of course we miss them; of course we mourn for them. But as Christians, we have this cure and certain hope - we will see them again, and we will be with them again - because we will be with the Lord Jesus. For ever.

This is the Christian hope, rooted in the death and resurrection of Jesus - that we too will share in his resurrection, his victory over death. We will be with him.

And the application of this morning’s passage is straightforward. Sometimes, it can be hard to know what to do with a passage; what God is calling us to do in response to his word. This morning, though, it’s easy to know what to do. Paul tells us in verse 18. In light of all that we’ve heard, here’s how to do it: ‘Therefore encourage each other with these words.’

There is encouragement in these words, in this passage of Scripture. And so we can remind each other about the hope that we have in Jesus.

The grieving process can be different for everybody; some seem can mourn for a long time, others for a shorter time. But in the message of Jesus, we have the words to share, the hope to bring, the encouragement that we need to have hope-filled grief. And it’s this hope that means that I could deal with the medical stuff, and lead funeral services, and even try to preach. And it’s this hope that we can hold on to in difficult days, when we lose a loved one, or when we face our own death - as we’ll say later on in the Communion prayer:

Christ has died;
Christ is risen;
Christ will come again.

This sermon was preached in St Matthew's Church, Richhill on Sunday morning 4th November 2018.

Sermon: John 11: 1-44 Resurrection and Life

On this Remembrance Sunday, we honour those who served and gave their lives for the cause of peace and freedom. It is estimated that 17 million people lost their lives in WW1, and around 60 million died through WW2. Yet we also remember those who have died since, through war and terrorism. The sheer scale of loss is unimaginable, yet behind those numbers lie the human stories - sons, husbands, fathers, daughters, wives, mothers, sisters and brothers.

Each death brings the pain of loss, the weight of sorrow, the sense of hopelessness in the face of death. And sometimes, death can even bring out some questions about God. Does he really love us - and if he does, why did he let this happen? Does he not care? Why did he not do something to prevent it?

Those are the questions that were spoken around the village of Bethany in our Bible reading. Does God love? Does God care? Is God powerless to help? The chapter opens with an ill man. Lazarus is ill, near death, and so his sisters send an urgent message to Jesus. ‘Lord, he whom you love is ill.’ They remind Jesus that he loves Lazarus, and urge him to come. We’re told in verse 5 that Jesus loves the family, but his love leads him to do something very strange. Look at it with me. ‘Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.’

It’s because Jesus loves that he waits where he is. It doesn’t sound like the loving thing to do. Imagine the sisters, frantically watching Lazarus get sicker and still no sign of Jesus. Where is he? Why has he not come? Does he not love us? Jesus loves them, and he allows them to go through the grief, the sorrow, the heartbrokenness, the sadness - because through their pain, they will see God’s glory all the more. Does Jesus love us? Yes - even though we might not think it.

But does he really care? Jesus had waited two days, then travelled to Bethany, and by the time he arrives, Lazarus has been dead four days. His funeral has finished, and the days of mourning are in full swing. And did you notice that both Martha and Mary said the very same thing to Jesus when he arrived? Verse 21 and 32. ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’ You could have helped, but you dillydallied. Don’t you care?

In verse 33, we see the care and compassion of Jesus up close and personal. When he sees Mary weeping, and the crowd weeping, then he is deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. So much so that we get the shortest verse in the whole Bible - John 11:35 ‘Jesus wept.’

Even though Jesus knows what he’s about to do, he cares for those in need. He is troubled by the things that trouble us. Some of the people watching recognise that care: ‘See how he loved him.’ Yet other people bring up the last of our questions - he might love us and he might care for us, but is he powerless to help?

Verse 37: ‘But some of them said, ‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man also have kept this man from dying?’ Throughout the autumn we’ve been working through John’s Gospel, seeing the amazing things Jesus did, watching as he met with people and brought about change. He made water out of wine; made the lame walk; healed the official’s son by his word 25 miles away; and even made a blind man see (as we’ll see in two week’s time). Was Jesus powerless to help in this instance?

It’s the same question the two sisters asked. Don’t you care, can’t you help? Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. Do you see what they’re saying? Before Lazarus died, you could have helped him, but you’re too late now.

He might have been able to stop Lazarus from dying, but is Jesus powerless against death itself? Can he give us sympathy but that’s about it? Is he all right to tackle some things, but others are too much even for him?

We’ve looked at how Jesus answered Mary, with compassion, his tears flowing with hers. But it’s with Martha that Jesus shows that he is the answer to the power of death. You see, Martha went a wee bit farther than Mary. She says the same, but then she goes on to say: ‘But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.’ Along with the accusation comes a little bit of faith, a mustard seed.

Jesus tells her that her brother will rise again. So she jumps on the Jewish hope of resurrection on the last day. She looks ahead to the end of time, to an event away in the future. It’s what the Jews believed, and it’s what we have affirmed as well - that on the last day there will be the resurrection of the body, the judgement, and eternal life.

But look at what Jesus says. She sees resurrection away in the future. Jesus says: ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.’

Jesus is saying that he gives life, new life, resurrection life in the here and now. To receive Jesus is to receive life, and to have to promise of life eternal. Everyone thought that Jesus was powerless to help, but Jesus says that he has overcome the power of death, and he spells out what it means for all who believe in him. Even though he dies, yet shall he live. Death will come, but it does not have the final say; it is not the last word. Jesus brings resurrection, being raised in a new and perfect body, because he himself would rise from death.

But it’s one thing to say it. It’s another thing to demonstrate it. When Jesus gets to the tomb in verse 38, he tells them to roll the stone away. Practical Martha steps in - ‘Lord, by this time there will be an odour, for he has been dead four days.’ But look at how Jesus replies. It’s all about faith: ‘Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?’

The stone is rolled away. Jesus shouts with a loud voice ‘Lazarus, come out’, and (to make absolutely clear) John tells us ‘The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth.’ This was a dead man walking. Jesus has the power over death because he is the resurrection and the life.

When we’re faced with death, it brings all sorts of questions. Does God love me? Does God care? Is God powerless to help? The answer to each comes in the Lord Jesus, because he has demonstrated his love, his care and his power by surrendering to death, the death of the cross, dying for our sins, to bring us to God; and by rising from death, the firstfruits of resurrection life, to never die again.

Lazarus came out of the tomb that day, but Lazarus would one day die. Indeed, the chief priests plotted to kill Lazarus (12:10) because of his witness to Jesus’ power. But Jesus will never die. As he says in Rev 1:19 ‘Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.’ Jesus loves you. Jesus cares for you. And Jesus has power over death. Will you trust with your death, as well as your life? Jesus says: ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?’

This sermon was preached on Remembrance Sunday 8th November 2015 in Aghavea Parish Church.

Book Review: Conduct Gospel-Centered Funerals

One of the most difficult things a minister can be involved with is a funeral. Yet at the same time, a funeral can be a very rewarding part of ministry. One of the challenges for the minister in preparing a funeral is in being faithful throughout the service, to proclaim the gospel.

In this little book by Brian Croft and Phil Newton, the gospel is front and centre (or should that be center?), as the subtitle puts it: 'Applying the gospel at the unique challenges of death.' The book is divided into four main sections - plan, prepare, preach, perform. For the younger minster this is a really helpful book, as it discusses both the practical aspects as well as the pastoral elements of funerals and bereavement. While there are some parts which are very American in terms of culture and context (such as the graveyard service with chairs etc), the reader can use discernment and wisdom to apply or reject the cultural bits, depending on their own situation.

The main thrust of the book is the most helpful, with the reminder that the gospel should be front and centre in every part of our pastoral and preaching ministry, not just on Sundays or not just in evangelism. There are useful tips and advice on how to explain and include the gospel in every step of the process, not just in the funeral sermon. The fact that the two authors are experienced pastors is also reassuring - they have been there and done that.

As a little bonus, there are helpful appendices, which give some sample sermons, eulogies, appropriate music, and orders of service. While it's a great little book, there were several times where it appeared that there was a lot of overlap and repetition - partly due to the separate efforts of the two authors, and partly even within the authors' sections.

All in all, it'll be very useful for student ministers and newly ordained ministers who are seeking to develop their gospel-centred ministry in the realm of funerals. Conduct Gospel-Centered Funerals is part of the 'Ministering the Master's Way' series of books for pastors, and can be bought at Amazon.

Granny Jean

Life has been a bit of a blur these last few weeks, and what has happened still hasn't really sunk in. On Monday 30th January 2012, after one week in hospital, my Granny Jane McMurray, passed from this world into the joy of her Master.

Jane Hunter, known as Jean to just about everyone, was born at 'The Pole', Macadam's Crossroads in Drummiller, Dromore in April 1927 to John and Sarah Jane Hunter, one of five children - Bella, Billy, Rebecca and Ronnie. Granny worked as a stitcher, mostly in Belfast, but also in Dromore, most recently at Warners, from which she retired in 1987.

Jane met Francis McMurray of Dromore, and they were presently married:


At first, granny and granda continued to live at The Pole with the Hunters, before moving into Maypole Park, and eventually Churchview. Jackie and Yvonne were born, yet in the days after granny died, I discovered that there was unmentioned sorrow and pain in granny's life. Three other daughters were born and died within their first year of life - something I had never known about or ever heard mentioned until we were preparing the information for the tribute.

Granny had endured a lot, also having lost her right eye (with several explanations of what had happened so I'm not quite sure). Yet despite these sorrows, as well as the death of granda McMurray in 1988, granny continued to be lively, full of fun, kind, generous, dedicated, committed, and altogether lovely.

I will never forget the day when we were playing outside on our bikes and granny decided she would have a go on mine. Off she set for a quick lap of Churchview, to the bemusement and delight of Neil and me (and possibly Paul and Mark) - granny on a bike at about the age of 70!

There are so many memories that flood back, as stories were shared and moments recollected that had long been forgotten. When we were wee, the four grandchildren all went to their house for Sunday lunch after Sunday School and church, and what we had for lunch, every Sunday without fail, was 'stewed bugs and onions' - or mince and onions as you might know it. Granny's kitchen was a virtual playground with the stools imagined to be buses or cars or whatever and the table a mysterious tunnel. But the best thing about granny's kitchen was her home baking. A family friend always loved Aunt Jean's Jelly Rings, while there were pavlovas and my personal favourite, the wee pancakes fresh off the griddle.

Granny was baptised, confirmed, married and buried in Dromore Cathedral, and she gave herself in the parish in so many ways. Not so long ago, she received a certificate recognising her fifty years of membership of the Mothers' Union; she also helped at the Clayton Hall Communions, went to Bible study, helped at the Autumn Fair and other catering occasions, and played some bowls. As the Rector, Stephen Lowry said, granny was at church as often as the clergy, morning and evening for so many years.

Sunday afternoons for many years saw my wee car travel the highways and byways of the country, joined by mum and dad sometimes, but every time by granny, as we explored all around us, enjoying conversation and the views. At that time, granny was delighted to hear that I'd been accepted for training at college, with the constant question - will I ever see you ordained?

Granny made it to see me ordained,

and married.

With full determination, she even made it to our new house in Brookeborough, all those miles, to attend my Institution in Aghavea.

Granny's death, so sudden and unexpected, has been very sad. I've lost my last grandparent, and we'll no longer have granny around to call in and see or to phone up. The house will soon be cleared and returned to the Housing Executive for someone else to move in. Things will never be the same again.

Yet it's not all sad. Mixed with the tears of the last fortnight there have been laughs, and beneath all, a sure and certain confidence that we know where granny is now. No longer is she weakened by her Parkinsons and associated ailments; no more does she bear those sorrows and pains; never again will she be sorely tried by temptation.

Granny is with the Lord Jesus, in his safe keeping, already enjoying the bliss of Paradise as she waits for the resurrection and is given her new, perfect body. We know she is there, not because she was good (she wasn't) or perfect (she wasn't) or holy (she wasn't). We know she is there because she acknowledged her sin and trusted in the Saviour. From that moment on, she lived for the Lord Jesus, and not for herself, witnessing in words and ways to the saving power of Jesus.

I can still remember the nights we stayed over in granny's. Neil and me in a single bed (it wouldn't happen now - there wouldn't be room!) with the plastic bottle filled with hot water to warm the bed (a health and safety nightmare!). Granny would go to bed, but before she got in, would kneel and pray for a long time.

It's hard to say goodbye. Seeing granny in her last days in the hospital with wires and tubes and oxygen was difficult to watch as she laboured for breath. It looked as if death was winning. Death claimed another victory. But it's not the end of the story. Jesus lives, and granny lives with him, and one day she will receive her new body. No more sorrow. No more pain. No more tears. Life forever. This was granny's hope, and is ours too. We shall meet again and shall never again be separated.

Touring the Underworld

It seems that any time you're talking about death, the old question always arises: burial or cremation? From there, the discussion will lead on to talking about the crematorium, what it's like, what really happens, and stories you've heard from a friend of a friend.

I'm sure you've heard some of them: that you can't be sure whose ashes you're getting; or that they take the bodies out of the coffins and resell the coffins; or that a pacemaker/bottle of whiskey/something random will explode in the crem.
As a minister, I've often led services up at Roselawn Crematorium in Belfast, and the staff had always been offering a tour to show me what it's really like. Recently I was able to take them up on the offer, and Pat, one of the attendants, showed me around.

Immediately, you can forget the preconceptions mentioned above. It's a very professional, dignified service Roselawn provide, and it was fascinating to see how it all works behind the scenes.

Normally, at the end of the service, the coffin is lowered from the chapel to the lower level. From there, it's transferred onto a trolley, and brought to one of the four (what's the word? ovens? incinerators? cremators?) ovens. Checks are made that the person's name matches the card taken from the register in the office, then the coffin is 'charged' or placed into the oven. The person's name card is then attached to the front of the oven. This means that you're very sure to receive your loved one's remains.

Roselawn has four ovens, which are fired up in preparation for the half-hourly interval committals, with the process taking about two hours. There's some heat involved, reaching temperatures of around 1000° Centigrade at its hottest, although the ovens are all monitored individually with their own computer system and screen for temperature/smoke/etc.

When the cremation has been completed, the remains are removed from the oven and placed in the container (whether a box or urn), to be either collected by the family or undertaker, or scattered by the staff in the gardens of remembrance. Again, the name is checked from the same card, so that you can be sure you're receiving the right remains.

There's really no mystery, and certainly no dodgy dealings in the underworld. It was very interesting to see what happens after the committal, and I'm very grateful to Pat and Eddie for showing me around. There is also the possibility of families or members of the public being shown the workings of the Crematorium, just contact the office to arrange it.

Photo by HeideKlein_OrangenKopf from Flickr.

Remembering

We still remember, two years on.

Be Still My Soul

Yesterday was a difficult day. We said goodbye to Lynsey's granny - who was also 'my' granny. I'm not sure I can write much more just now as she will be sorely missed, being at the very centre of the family. But we know that she is with the Lord - death will not have the last word, because she knew the Lord Jesus as her Saviour, and he has conquered death.

At the funeral, the large congregation sang this hymn:

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

Amen, and amen, even though it is painful.

In The Valley

Two funerals in two days. A busy time, as well as everything else that goes on in the parish. But it's a privilege to be allowed into peoples' homes in their times of grief (as well as the happy times on other occasions). At most funerals, I'll read the 23rd Psalm. A very fitting psalm for people in the midst of the valley of the shadow of death.

A dark place, with grief at the loss of loved ones, the sadness and shock and mourning that comes when confronted with our great enemy. But death will not win. There is no fear in the valley. Why?

'You are with me' (Psalm 23:4)

You - the Lord himself, the one who knows the valley of the shadow of death, who walked this path himself, who has passed through and triumphed over death by being raised to life in the resurrection. YOU are with me.

Are - present continuous tense, not just in the past, not just in the future, but now, in my hour of need. You ARE with me.

With - present alongside, accompanying on the pathway, so that I am not alone, not abandoned. You are WITH me.

Me - the one who deserves death, the one who should fear, but also the one who has been saved, rescued, freed, given life and assured of eternity with God where there is no death. You are with ME.

What a great phrase and a great truth to hold on to at all times, but especially when facing death and bereavement.

Sermon Audio: John 11: 17-44

Here's the sermon mp3 audio file from Sunday night's Living With Loss service for those who have been bereaved in recent years. Resurrection and Life

A State Funeral

Several times in recent years we have witnessed state funerals. Diana, Princess of Wales was probably the most prominent, or on a smaller scale, George Best was granted a semi-state funeral up at Parliament Buildings in Stormont. They are generally grand occasions, with pomp and ceremony mixed with high emotion.

Reading through Genesis, in the last chapter we find a state funeral of sorts. Jacob, also known as Israel, had died in the land of Egypt, having made it to see his son Joseph alive, and also his children. Joseph by this time had risen to the rank of Prime Minister of Egypt, seeing the nation through years of famine and national crisis (another posting on this soon).

Jacob was to be buried in the cave in the field of Machpelah, where his wife Leah was buried, as well as Abraham and Sarah, and Isaac and Rebekah. Thus far, the field and the cave was the only portion of the Promised Land held by Israel. It was all Abraham saw - he died in faith.

Picture the scene:

4And when the days of weeping for him were past, Joseph spoke to the household of Pharaoh, saying, "If now I have found favor in your eyes, please speak in the ears of Pharaoh, saying, 5My father made me swear, saying, 'I am about to die: in my tomb that I hewed out for myself in the land of Canaan, there shall you bury me.' Now therefore, let me please go up and bury my father. Then I will return." 6And Pharaoh answered, "Go up, and bury your father, as he made you swear." 7So Joseph went up to bury his father. With him went up all the servants of Pharaoh, the elders of his household, and all the elders of the land of Egypt, 8as well as all the household of Joseph, his brothers, and his father’s household. Only their children, their flocks, and their herds were left in the land of Goshen. 9And there went up with him both chariots and horsemen. It was a very great company. 10When they came to the threshing floor of Atad, which is beyond the Jordan, they lamented there with a very great and grievous lamentation, and he made a mourning for his father seven days. 11When the inhabitants of the land, the Canaanites, saw the mourning on the threshing floor of Atad, they said, "This is a grievous mourning by the Egyptians." Therefore the place was named Abel-mizraim; it is beyond the Jordan. 12Thus his sons did for him as he had commanded them, 13for his sons carried him to the land of Canaan and buried him in the cave of the field at Machpelah, to the east of Mamre, which Abraham bought with the field from Ephron the Hittite to possess as a burying place.

What a sight it must have been! Israel buried in honour by the state of Egypt in the promised land. Several generations would pass before the people of Israel would leave Egypt for good, and take possession of the land in its fullness. And through it all, God's promise and purpose continue to be worked out.

For now, Farewell

I'm not sure what to say, yet I have to say something before moving to other topics on the blog. Yesterday, I was privileged to be asked to take part in the funeral service for Constable James Magee. As I said before, James was my best friend in Primary School as we grew up.

I've taken other funerals, and thought that they were hard enough - even when I didn't really know the person. But yesterday was the hardest of my life and ministry. Dromore Cathedral was packed full, with many more outside. The last time I was in the Cathedral, was the night I was ordained, and here I was back for a terribly sad occasion. As well as the cathedral being full, there were crowds outside, as well as the obligatory media circus.

I never imagined that just a few months into my ordained ministry I would be helping at the very public funeral of a childhood friend. Yet it happened. Stephen Lowry led the service so well - his pastoral heart shone through as he found words to comfort, recalling James perfectly, and also in sensitively proclaiming God's word. Trevor McKeown and Gareth Harron read lessons, and all three were supportive as I prepared to lead the prayers.

I will never forget the funeral - images and sounds are lodged in my memory. The sound of the policemen marching, and carrying the coffin. The sound of the hymns being sung. The sound of weeping and wailing. The Chief Constable, Sir Hugh Orde, laying a wreath on the grave. Another PSNI officer presenting James' cap and gloves to the parents.

Yet now, when the spotlight is off the family, now is when it will particularly hit hard for the family - please continue to be praying for Freda and Bawn, Sarah and Rachel, and the whole family.