Please Don't Make My Funeral All About Me

I just got home from another funeral. Seems we've gone to more than our share lately. And once again, as I left the church, I pled with those closest to me, "Please don't make my funeral all about me."

We were an hour and fifteen minutes in to today's funeral before anyone read from the scriptures, and further in until there was a prayer. Resurrection wasn't mentioned until the benediction. There were too many funny stories to tell about the deceased, too many recollections, too many good things to say about the things she accomplished to speak of what Christ has accomplished on her behalf.

But then this wasn't a funeral. It was a "Celebration of Life." In fact there was really little mention of death or of the ugly way sickness slowly robbed our friend of everything. Christ and his saving benefits could not be made much of because death and its cruelties were largely ignored.    Continue at Nancy Guthrie

Those Who Sleep in the Dust Will Awake

Around that time, our neighborhood began the annual ritual of decorating for Halloween. When my neighbors hung their orange lights on October 1, it seemed a bit early, but I told myself it was no big deal. I didn't want to be the Grinch of Halloween. I love a carved pumpkin, bales of hay, a few corncobs, and a silly costume. And I'm all for loading up on bite-size candy bars. But then came the afternoon in late October when I drove through the neighborhood and passed a house showcasing a hearse with a casket coming out the back. A few doors down, several skeletons were hanging from trees. It felt like a punch in the stomach.

We buried our daughter, Hope, in the heat of June. Nothing in my life has ever felt so wrong as putting her body in the grave and simply walking away. Then came that October morning when there was frost on the ground and a nip in the air and the heat came on in our house for the first time, giving off the smell of burning dust. I lay in bed, feeling a wave of resistance and resentment toward the cold. I thought about the cold earth surrounding Hope's body and I wept, feeling a sense of helplessness in surrendering her body to the coming winter. It's a mom's job to keep her child warm, isn't it?   Continue at Nancy Guthrie

A Great God and Our Worst Moments

Recently, I had the opportunity to sit down with author and speaker Nancy Guthrie and discuss the subject matter of suffering. Nancy and her husband, David, lost two children to Zellweger Syndrome – a genetic disorder where the body does not produce peroxizones which aid in metabolism on the cellular level. Infants diagnosed with Zellweger usually live only six to eight months. Both Hope and Gabriel were born with the rare genetic disorder. The family’s journey through the experience is captured in Nancy’s book Holding On to Hope. God has used the Guthrie’s experience to minister to countless numbers of individuals and couples who’ve lost children. You can read more about their ministry here. I asked Nancy to help us understand what those suffering are going through and what we should expect to see as we minister to them. Her answer, which will be posted soon on the ReNew Conference website, echoed the perspective of the Psalmist in Psalm Seventy Three. Basically, our initial responses in the midst of pain are our worst. The Psalmist takes us through a play-by-play of his worst moments. It unfolds like a you’re not crazy session for the suffering.   Keep Reading...