Psalm 90:1-12, A PRAYER OF MOSES, THE MAN OF GOD. Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. 2 Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. 3 You return man to dust and say, "Return, O children of man!" 4 For a thousand years in your sight are but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night. 5 You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning: 6 in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers. 7 For we are brought to an end by your anger; by your wrath we are dismayed. 8 You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence. 9 For all our days pass away under your wrath; we bring our years to an end like a sigh. 10 The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away. 11 Who considers the power of your anger, and your wrath according to the fear of you? 12 So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.
I don’t get to Durham often—and this is not how I planned to spend my weekend. But, then, I suspect none of you expected to be here for Keith’s funeral either. When my brother, Dale, called on Monday, I knew something was wrong. He had that “I have some bad news hesitancy” in his voice—and then he said, “I have some bad news.” Just a few days ago, the last thing on anyone’s mind would be gathering for Keith’s funeral. The New Year began with such promise and hope—who would have expected this? Yet Monday morning came, and with it the word spreading from family members to friends, to co-workers, to acquaintances, that Keith had slipped away from this vale of tears into the presence of the Lord. And so here we are today, and our hearts are heavy with loss. It is a privilege for me to stand here today—to reflect on a life lived well, and to say a last goodbye to a beloved friend.
I have had the privilege of knowing Keith for almost 40 years. What a trip this has been. I have some rather vivid memories of Keith, and I am sure you do as well. However, since I have the floor now, I will share some of mine. I remember the day Keith showed up at school with his ’67 Mercury Cougar. He was wearing what we called his “purple pantsuit.” I remember thinking to myself, this is a man who is secure in his masculinity! If we had only had a 1970’s version of “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” we could have saved him from this massive wardrobe malfunction. But those were the days of Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy—and Keith in his purple pantsuit.
There was a tight little group of friends that used to hang together. And Keith was usually present when we were flirting with disaster. When we went out to toss eggs at people. Or light firecrackers. Or launch water balloons. Or shoot bottle rockets at other cars, or people, or front porches. Or throw bottles at traffic signs. Or shine our spotlight into the living-room windows of folks we didn’t like. Keith was with me when I put my Camaro in a ditch. And then, not to be outdone, he put his Cougar in a ditch. And then I upped the ante and put my Camaro in another ditch. At that point Keith had the good sense to realize there was no future in this ditching of cars—and let me win. Anyone who watched us might have concluded: it is only a matter of time before they all ended up in the penitentiary. And Barry, if someone had asked, “Will Barry spend his life fighting fires—or setting fires?” I suspect it would have been even money on both. But here we are and the only stripes we are wearing are pin-stripes. Amazing grace, indeed.
Well, in time, Keith married, had two wonderful, now-grown and accomplished children, built a career, and completed his college education. Yes, completed his college degree! What a marvelous triumph of dedication and perseverance that was! And he was so proud of both Keith, Jr. and Laura—and so looked forward to Laura’s wedding. Now a word about Keith’s marriage. You know that Keith was the first among us to have a mixed marriage. I remember when he fell head over heels for Cheryl. I thought maybe it was her car that got his attention. I was wrong. He fell in love and married her, and, well, . . . Cheryl was not from around here. I used to think Keith was nuts, marrying a Yankee and all. Until I ended up marrying one, too. . . . Now I think both of us were nuts!
Okay, I am just kidding about that one—but I am not kidding about this. Keith, like all of us, had the capacity to become angry and to be stern. But such emotions were rarely seen and, if they did appear, always seemed out of character. His default setting was something I always admired—and wished that I had. There was a kindness, dare I say, a gentleness, about Keith. A steady, dependable, “what can I do to help you” spirit that came through in every part of his life.
My brother, Keith, was a man of faith. Not the oppressive rule-oriented Christianity of our youth. Long ago, many of us walked away from that flavor of Christianity. Look, it is no secret that a lot of us have had lingering heartburn with the church. And so did Keith. And so do I—even to this very day. Over the years we had many conversations about what is wrong with the church. But it is one thing to complain about the church, and the bad behavior of a lot of church-folks, and another thing entirely to place your trust in a merciful and gracious God. In the midst of all the trials of life, I have never doubted for one moment that Keith’s faith in the Lord was alive and well. It was to the Lord that Keith returned time and again for sustaining grace. And it is to the same gracious God, who gifted him with faith, that we turn today in our hour of need.
Today, as we gather here, I suspect we don’t really think about the meaning of death as the Bible presents it. We don’t like to think about death at all. Like the toddler who believes he disappears when you play “peek-a-boo,” we act as if death will go away if we just ignore it. And so we were all shocked to hear that Keith, so vital, so much a part of our lives, is gone from us. We want to consider his death an anomaly. But that is not the case. Keith is not the exception. To think that this shattering event is extraordinary is the furthest thing from the truth of Scripture. In reality, what is wrong with this picture is not that Keith has died, that he is gone. What is wrong with this picture is that we are NOT dead. D.A. Carson, in his book, How Long, O Lord? notes that “death must be seen, not as the supreme instance of a cosmic lack of fairness, but as God’s well-considered sentence against our sin.” (D.A. Carson, How Long, O Lord?, 110.)
And that is exactly what we find in our text. “You return man to dust and say, ‘Return, O children of man!’ . . . You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning.” Moses, the author of this psalm, continues, “we have been consumed by Your anger. And by Your wrath we have been dismayed. You have placed our iniquities before You, Our secret sins in the light of Your presence. For all our days have declined in Your fury; We have finished our years like a sigh.”
Now, these are not just the words of the “Angry God” of the Old Testament. The New Testament echoes this same theme, telling us in Romans 6:23 that “the wages of sin is death” and in Hebrews 9:27, “it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment.” This means, as Carson points out, “that I am a responsible participant in my own death. ”(Ibid., 112.) We are a race of sinners, on our way to just condemnation. And if God calls one of us to account sooner, rather than later, this does not mean that his sin is more horrendous, or her guilt somehow greater. It does not mean that those who live on are somehow more righteous than those who pass away in an “untimely” fashion. And doesn’t our sense of shock at an “untimely death” say something about our expectation “that we ought to live out a full life span, that God somehow owes that to us?” (Ibid., 116) On the contrary, according to Scripture, everyone in this room has spent a lifetime working towards condemnation and death. My mother used to talk about being “in hell with her back broke.” That is what we have earned.
Not exactly the words of encouragement you were expecting at a funeral, eh? Well, having said these things, there is yet more that we must say. For to stop here is to miss another biblical truth, the truth that God’s anger at our sin is not the whole story. Indeed there is a whole different angle of vision we must consider if we will know fully the meaning of death. The fact is, death also points us to the mercy of God, the love of God, and the grace of God. Hear these words from another Psalm, the 103rd:
“Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's. . . . The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He will not always chide, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children.”
Now let’s be clear about this: God’s compassion is not abstract; it is concrete. Romans 5:8 says that “God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Here is the great mystery of the gospel, that God who hates sin and reckons all sinners worthy of death, loved us with an everlasting love—and sent his son, our Lord Jesus Christ to bear the guilt of our sin, to suffer and to die on our behalf. As the Scripture says, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:22).
Look. Nowhere does the Scripture indicate that God has changed his mind about sin. He still hates sin. In fact, Romans 1:18 reminds us that “the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth.” But this God who hates sin and whose wrath is revealed against all ungodliness is the same God “who so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whoever believes on him, shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” The meaning of death cannot be understood apart from the person of Jesus Christ who died, was buried, but rose again from the dead.
And this brings us to another thought about the meaning of death. Jesus, who died on the cross not only satisfied God’s wrath against sin, he also rose again to show God’s approval of his sacrifice. “The cross, then, is the place where God’s justice and love meet. God retains the integrity of his justice; God pours out the fullness of his love. In the cross, God shows himself to be just and the one who justifies sinners whose faith rests in his Son. The death of God’s own Son is the only adequate gauge of what God thinks of my sin; the death of God’s own Son is the only basis on which I may be forgiven that sin. The cross is the triumph of justice and love.” (Ibid., 116)
This triumph of justice and love is the promise that those who die in the Lord, will yet live again. In John 11, Jesus said, “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.” This is our hope, that death is not the end, but the beginning. When we consider the meaning of death in the light of eternity, we acknowledge that “death remains an enemy, an outrage, a sign of judgment, a reminder of sin, and a formidable opponent.” ( Ibid., 150) But, . . . from another perspective “it is the portal through which we pass” to new and unending life in the presence of our Lord. (Ibid.)
My friends, look around you. Many of us have known each other for three or four decades. We knew each other before losing all the hair, gaining all the weight, and undergoing all the surgeries. We can all remember the days before Insulin, Lipitor, Coumadin, and Viagra. Do not do fool yourself by living as though death will not come your way; as though the strength of your youth will not fail. I can predict your future. And it runs through Clements Funeral Home, . . . or some other mortuary. No one gets out of this life alive.
In his children’s book, The Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis tells the story of Jill, a young girl who finds herself thirsty and standing before a stream of cool, clear water. Although the sight of the water made her feel ten times thirstier than before, she didn’t rush forward and drink. She stood still as if she had been turned into stone. And she had a very good reason; just on this side of the stream sat a huge lion. Those of you who have seen the movie, The Chronicles of Narnia, have seen this great lion. His name is Aslan; he is the Christ figure in Narnia, and in the book and movie he offers himself as a sacrifice to pay for the sins of the guilty. But in this story, Aslan is the barrier between Jill and the stream of water.
After a bit, Aslan, spoke. “If you’re thirsty, you may drink” . . . . For a second Jill stared about, wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, “If you are thirsty, come and drink.” But Jill saw who spoke and was afraid to move. “Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion. “I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill. “Then drink,” said the Lion. “Do you eat girls?” she said. “I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. Aslan didn’t say this as if he were boasting, nor as if he were sorry, or even angry. He just said it. “I dare not come and drink,” said Jill. “Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion. “Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.” “There is no other stream,” said the Lion. Jill went forward to the stream, knelt down, and began scooping up water in her hand. It was the coldest, most refreshing water she had ever tasted. You didn’t need much of it, for it quenched your thirst at once.” (C. S. Lewis, The Silver Chair, 21.)
Let’s be clear: without Jesus, death is the beginning of unending sorrows, separation from God, and eternal darkness. Without Jesus, the emptiness that you sometimes experience now will never end— it will only grow infinitely worse. Your thirst will never be quenched. If you are trusting in Jesus, death is only the “valley of the shadow of death.” He is the living water that quenches the thirst of all who come to him and drink. You see, those who believe in Jesus pass through death and death dies as we enter into the joy of the Lord forever. What are you holding on to this day? Do you have a hope that is greater than you? Hear these words from Revelation 22:17: “The Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.” There is no other stream.
Cheryl, Keith, Laura, Barry, George—we sorrow today, but not as those who have no hope, for we believe that Keith has passed from this life into the presence of his Lord. He is there with his mother Estelle and a host of other believers, without number, from every tongue, and tribe, and nation on earth. Not because Keith was worthy of heaven. Oh Lord, none of us is worthy of heaven and I might very well be the least worthy in this room. No, Keith is in the presence of the Lord because Jesus loved him with an everlasting love—dying for his sins on the cross and promising to raise him to newness of life at that last day. The book of Revelation begins with a vision of Jesus Christ. The apostle John tells us what he saw:
“Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands one like a son of man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest. The hairs of his head were white like wool, as white as snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, ‘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 Hell.’”
Jesus has the keys! The meaning of death has been transformed forever by the resurrection of our Lord, so that we cry out, “‘O grave, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (I Cor. 15:55-57). In the Heidelberg Catechism, Question 1 asks, “What is your only comfort in life and death?” And gives this answer: “That I with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Savior Jesus Christ; who, with his precious blood, has fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation, and therefore, by his Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me sincerely willing and ready, henceforth, to live unto him.” Indeed, our comfort is this: when Keith was not able to hold on to life any longer, he belonged to his faithful Savior, Jesus, who was able to hold on to Keith. And that is our hope; in life, in death, in life beyond death. Thanks be to God.
Funeral Service for my best friend, Keith
Durham, NC
January 10, 2009
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