John 14:1-6; Romans 8:18-28; Lamentations 3:22-33
In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Dear Rosemary, Kymn, Dawn, Gail, and Cheryl; grandchildren, family; brothers and sisters in Christ, and friends: Grace, mercy, and peace be unto you from God our Father and from our Lord Jesus Christ.
In preparation for this service, I read through Clarence’s obituary and the thoughts and memories several of you shared with me. One thing appeared again and again: Clarence’s voice. Whether it was singing, cheering, laughing, joking, auctioneering, crying out in pain, or simply talking, Clarence’s voice was memorable. It made an impression everywhere he went.
Clarence was the birthday singer at Terex. He sang for everyone in the company, and his voice carried throughout the factory. He had the perfect voice for auctioneering too. After the flood of 2008, as furniture lay scattered across the lawn while the family sorted what could be saved and what had to be thrown away, Clarence began calling bids like an auctioneer. The entire neighborhood could hear him. Neighbors down the block were shouting, “Yep!”
At sporting events his was the voice everyone heard. “Shoot the ball!” “Steal third!” “Throw home!” “Nice serve!” And, of course, “Come on, ref!”
On Wednesdays, when Clarence and Rosemary came for the midweek service, I knew when they arrived because I could hear Clarence talking all the way from the Gathering Room. And when service began, Clarence lifted our a cappella singing to the apex of this sanctuary ceiling.
Even during Clarence’s final days in the hospital, when a music therapist visited, Clarence sang favorite hymns and songs together with you, his beloved family. I suspect the whole floor could hear him singing.
Clarence did not know a stranger. He could strike up a conversation with anyone. He had a positive outlook on life and encouraged people wherever he went. His social calendar was full: church activities, softball, rabbit club, 4-H, the United Way, UAW retirees, card games, Schafkopf, and cheering on children and grandchildren at sporting events, concerts, and county fair competitions.
Chad cherished summer breaks spent with Grandpa, working together in the garden, picking berries and green beans, collecting those special leaves by the elementary school to make cucumbers into pickles. “That made me feel special when it was just us,” Chad said. I know every grandchild here likely has stories like that. Clarence loved family. He loved neighbors. He especially loved children and making them laugh.
Chad also shared a story from when he was very young. Clarence had fallen asleep on the couch, and to a little boy Grandpa’s round belly looked like a perfect landing spot. Chad launched himself from the back of the sofa and landed squarely on Clarence’s stomach. Clarence woke startled, hurt, and more than a little irritated. But even when he was upset, somehow he was still funny.
Clarence knew joy. But Clarence also knew suffering. The last years were not easy. His body bent under the curvature of the spine. His feet and legs troubled him. Walking became difficult. Neuropathy, weakness, pain, and dependence on others crept in. Yet suffering never extinguished his joy or kindness. He still joked. He still encouraged. He still sang. He still laughed.
That should make you stop and wonder why. Because contentment, joy, peace, and hope are difficult enough when life is easy. When pain settles into your bones, when movement becomes hard, when frustration grows, joy does not come naturally. It comes from somewhere else.
Clarence’s confirmation verse was from Hebrews: “Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for He has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’” That promise shaped Clarence. The source of Clarence’s peace was never merely his personality. It was his Lord. “The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.” That is not sentimental talk. Those words were written amid suffering, sorrow, and ruin. Yet even there, faith clings to God’s mercy.
And God gave Clarence more than enough mercy. The Lord gave him joy that bubbled over into laughter. Peace that became encouragement. Hope that became song. Love that overflowed toward family, friends, neighbors, and strangers.
Saint Paul writes: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Clarence believed that. He knew suffering was real. He knew pain. But he also knew suffering does not get the final word. Christ does. That is why Jesus says today, “Let not your hearts be troubled.”
And our hearts are troubled. Death troubles us. Empty chairs trouble us. Silence troubles us. For a man whose voice filled rooms, stadiums, church halls, and sanctuaries, the silence feels especially heavy. But Jesus speaks into troubled hearts. “Believe in God; believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you.”
Clarence’s voice is silent to us for now, but Clarence himself is not lost. He is with Christ. The Lord who promised, “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” kept that promise to Clarence through every burden, every ache, every hard day, and every difficult step. And the Lord did not abandon him in death either.
Jesus says, “I will come again and take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also.” Clarence is with Christ. No pain. No bent spine. No aching joints. No struggling to move. No weakness. Only joy. Only peace. Only the presence of Jesus.
And yet even this is not the end of the Christian hope. We do not merely confess life after death. We confess the resurrection of the body. The day is coming when Christ Himself will speak again, not only to troubled hearts, but to graves. The trumpet will sound. The dead in Christ will rise. Clarence will stand again, not bent over, not weak, not suffering, but restored, whole, and glorified. And perhaps then, with a resurrected voice stronger than ever, Clarence will sing again among the saints.
That is the Christian hope. Not wishful thinking. Not sentimentality. Not positive vibes. Jesus Christ died and rose again. He is “the way, and the truth, and the life.” Because He lives, Clarence lives. Because Christ rose, Clarence shall rise.
So grieve, yes. Tears are fitting. Death is an enemy. But do not grieve as those without hope. For the steadfast love of the LORD never ceases. His mercies never end. They are new every morning. And for Clarence, morning has already dawned.
In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.
