John 14:1-6; John 3:16-18; Psalm 23
In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.
David, Paul, Ann, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, family, friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, grace, mercy, and peace be unto you from God our Father and from Jesus Christ our Lord.
The church should be packed today, not only because we commend to the Lord a dear mother, grandmother, friend, and sister in Christ, Helen, but because we are saying farewell to a significant part of the living memory and history of this community. Together, Helen and Harlan represented just shy of a century of Waverly life, memory, and history. Both were born, baptized, and confirmed in Waverly. They grew up here, raised their family here, and made their home here for most of their lives. They could tell you who lived where, who owned what business, what used to be in that building, and so much more. It is hard to overstate how rare it is becoming for someone to live nearly their entire life in the same community, or how great a loss their death is to that community.
The church should be packed today, but it’s not. The reason it’s not is because, well, Helen has actually outlived many people who would have come. That’s another reality when you have lived just shy of a century. Ninety-eight years is a long life by any measure, and I don’t think I’m betraying any secret to say that Helen felt it and was ready to go, especially since her beloved Harlan died in January. They were married for 76 years, just one month short of 77.
As a pastor, I’ve been blessed to minister to several of the Lord’s children who have lived to be a hundred or more. Without exception, every single one of them asked the same question: “Why won’t the Lord take me home?” This is not some morbid death wish, but the plaintive cry of a person who knows they are God’s child and longs to be with Him. That was most certainly Helen’s desire these past several months.
When you live into your late ‘90s, chances are you have outlived your spouse, siblings, friends, and many of your closest relatives. And when your body can no longer do the things it once did, there can be a sense of helplessness and purposelessness that is, quite simply, not what the Lord intended for us. “Why, Lord?” “When, Lord?” These are not necessarily questions of doubt, but the longing of a Christian for Sabbath rest and communion with Jesus.
The Lord blessed Helen with a long, rich, and full life, and He made her a rich blessing to many. She was a wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. She was an exceptional seamstress and later a master quilter. She served her church through the Dorcas Society. She worked for many years at Rohlf Memorial Clinic and, after retirement, she and Harlan enjoyed twenty-five years spending part of each year in Clearwater, Florida.
And then there were the things that made Helen, well, Helen. Her lemon meringue and rhubarb pies. Her German Pfeffernüsse cookies at Christmas. Bridge with her friends. Ceramics she made and gave away. Her love of reading, right up until two weeks before she died. And, of course, attending David and Paul’s and the grandkid’s athletic events and watching college football and basketball, never afraid to offer free advice to the coaches and referees from her chair in the living room.
These are the things we remember today. The things that make us smile. The things that make us laugh. The things that make us miss her. And we should remember them. They are gifts from God, and they are part of the life He gave her.
But today we remember something even more important: Helen belonged to Jesus. The Twenty-Third Psalm says, “The Lord is my shepherd.” The Lord was Helen’s Shepherd throughout her long life, and He remains her Shepherd even now. She walked through the valley of the shadow of death, but she did not walk there alone. Her Shepherd was with her.
And why can we have such confidence? Because Jesus tells us in the Gospel appointed for today: “God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” This is the heart of the Christian faith. Our hope is not that Helen lived a long and good life. Our hope is not that she was a good person. Our hope is not even found in the wonderful memories we have of her. Our hope is Jesus Christ.
He died for Helen’s sins. He died for your sins. He rose from the dead. And because He lives, death does not have the final word. Jesus says, “I go to prepare a place for you.” And then He gives us this promise: “I will come again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also.” That is the promise upon which Helen lived and died. And that is the promise upon which we stand today.
Helen is not simply gone. She has been taken home to be with her Lord, awaiting the day when Jesus will come again and raise her body from the grave. The separation caused by death will be ended, and she will live with her Lord in the fullness of resurrection life.
And so we grieve. Of course we grieve. We grieve because we love Helen. We grieve because death is an enemy. We grieve because we miss her. But we do not grieve as those who have no hope. The Lord was Helen’s Shepherd. He led her through a long and blessed life. He led her through the valley. And He has now brought her home.
So, dear family and friends, give thanks to God for Helen. Remember her with joy. Mourn her death honestly. But above all, cling to the same Jesus in whom Helen trusted. Hear His Word. Receive His forgiveness. Come to His Table. And when your own earthly pilgrimage is finished, trust that the Good Shepherd who has carried His people through every valley will carry you home as well. For Jesus has promised, “I will come again and will take you to Myself.” “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” And forever is precisely what Jesus has promised.
In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.
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