"Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the great waters; they saw the deeds of the Lord, His wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea. They mounted up to heaven; they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their evil plight;
they reeled and staggered like drunken men and were at their wits' end. Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them from their distress. He made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad that the waters were quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven." Psalm 107:23-30

Monday, December 15, 2014

When Divine Meets Death

Yesterday as my children and I walked up to the rail to receive the Lord's Body and Blood, I was caught off guard by an unexpected sight.  The third Sunday in Advent is known as Gaudete Sunday, or, the Sunday of rejoicing. On this Sunday in Advent we turn slightly from the somber repentance that is the Christian's focus while contemplating our Lord's second coming and judgement day, and we rejoice that for those in Christ His second coming brings peace and eternal life. 

So, imagine my surprise then when, adorning the floor area in front of the chancel, I saw three beautiful funeral arrangements. I remembered that the day before the church had held a funeral for a member who just went home to the Lord but, found myself instantly captivated by the sight....and by the irony. In my church the Sunday of rejoicing is not only met with the pink candle on the advent wreath being lit but the entire church bursts forth the decorations of Christmas and, later in the afternoon, the choir shouts forth beautiful hymns of advent in a concert for the entire community. So, there I knelt, staring at two 25 ft tall evergreen trees decked tip to stump in Chrismons and twinkling lights, and...funeral flowers. 

My eyes trailed to the altar and, for some reason, my eyes were caught by the edge of the white altar covering and the pole that holds it in place running through its side. Suddenly my mouth went dry as I thought back to the previous Holy Week and the stripping of the altar. I could still see in my mind Pastor pulling the rod out so the covering could be gently folded up and removed, leaving the altar naked and bare. 

I looked from the flowers to the trees over and over and it hit me, the life of a Christian truly is constant irony. It's black and white, sinner and saint, weeping and laughter, repentance and absolution, Christmas and Good Friday, Good Friday and Easter, death and life. 

Suddenly I loved those funeral flowers. They made a very bold statement that I do not think was intentional on the part of the person who left them. We hold hopeful, expectant vigil as we await our Christmas feasting but on this side of heaven Lent will come once again, as will Good Friday. It will come in our lives too...suffering, sickness, depression, misfortune, destruction, torture, war, death...but there's a reason we adorn caskets with flowers. It's not some kind of departing "thank you" note to the deceased, it's a testimony of life. 

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." (Matthew 6:28-29 ESV)

Those flowers are a testimony of a promise, a declaration of faith. Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ WILL come again, and when He does, He is taking us home. 

I wish I could arrange for there to be funeral flowers on the third Sunday in Advent every single year. Gaudete Sunday was the first Sunday after my Dad's deadly plane crash. I remember thinking then how ironic that was, and yet, how wonderful. We rejoice even in death because Christ is coming for us, and when He does, oh Happy Day!!!

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