Friday, March 30, 2007 at 1:01am
Speaking the truth in love
Column: For His Glory
I was at a military funeral on Tuesday, a new experience for me. During the service my eyes were fixed on the coffin draped with the U.S. flag. I wanted to know more about the man whose life I had anointed just a week earlier. What had he been like? What had he feared? Whom had he loved? What had been his dreams?
With eager anticipation I awaited the minister's eulogy. His words were kind and loving, yet not satisfying — not because they weren't spoken in love but rather because they did not speak about the man who had just passed away. I was left wanting more. I was curious, and his message was void of the details of the deceased man's life.
Yet there was one more person left to speak, and I understood that this person was in charge of filling in the gaps, recounting the deceased man's life and summing up the essence of the man we had come to honor. I have to admit to feeling a sense of expectancy. Would the life of a man who was known to be an atheist be glossed over with pleasantries or would we get to know who he really was? I have heard of funerals at which the sins of repugnant people were overlooked and people left the funeral wondering if they were in the wrong service. Would this be one of them?
The answer was no. The speaker opened by admitting that the person in the coffin was a "self-proclaimed" atheist. I felt tense, wondering if his friends and family were hoping for a "pie in the sky" eulogy or for the truth. Yet, in an unabashed manner the speaker wove together a history of the deceased man. He told about the fatherless childhood this man had had to experience. He recounted the possibility that this circumstance might have hardened the man's heart against our heavenly Father. Raised by a single mother during the Depression could harden a person's heart. He spoke briefly about the man's military experience and the rigors that brings. He spoke about the estranged relationship the man had with his own daughter, the result of him being fatherless. Detail after detail was shared, intertwined with glimpses of the love of our Heavenly Father.
Throughout this atheist's life, our Heavenly Father was searching to reconcile this man with Himself. Little by little our Heavenly Father brought people into his life to peel away the pain that this man had locked up inside. Why would an atheist listen numerous times, as the speaker said, to the testimony of a drug addict saved from death to life, unless his own heart wanted to believe? Why would he spend time eating his meals at a place known for recounting stories of marvelous conversions? God was chasing him till the very end to give this atheist hope, and God did just that. Late in his life God sent him a wife whose name translates into English as "hope." I can imagine that with the seeds of the gospel message implanted in his heart through audio testimonies and bedside stories, that every time he uttered his wife's name, his heart yearned to hope that there was a better place, a heavenly place, for him. May his soul rest in the hope of the resurrection and the love of Christ.
When the speaker concluded, there was a time for a short sharing of memories of the deceased man. One of his friends stood up, a biker who was tattooed and wearing a U.S. flag bandana; he shared that the speaker had summarized the life of the dead man correctly. No need to gloss over someone's life — just tell the truth in love, and your words will reach the hearts of others.
At the gravesite the 21-gun salute pierced the afternoon air. Yet my prayer is that when the trumpet of God sounds and the dead in Christ awake, this man will rise and meet the Father he always had, our heavenly Father. "For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first" (1 Thessalonians 4:16).
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Gio Marin is an author, currently working on a master of divinity degree at Andrews Seventh-Day Adventist Theological Seminary, with a dual emphasis on systematic theology and church growth & evangelism. Visit For His Glory, the blog, and send an email to {email GioMarinColumn@aol.com}GioMarinColumn@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Gio Marin
With eager anticipation I awaited the minister's eulogy. His words were kind and loving, yet not satisfying — not because they weren't spoken in love but rather because they did not speak about the man who had just passed away. I was left wanting more. I was curious, and his message was void of the details of the deceased man's life.
Yet there was one more person left to speak, and I understood that this person was in charge of filling in the gaps, recounting the deceased man's life and summing up the essence of the man we had come to honor. I have to admit to feeling a sense of expectancy. Would the life of a man who was known to be an atheist be glossed over with pleasantries or would we get to know who he really was? I have heard of funerals at which the sins of repugnant people were overlooked and people left the funeral wondering if they were in the wrong service. Would this be one of them?
The answer was no. The speaker opened by admitting that the person in the coffin was a "self-proclaimed" atheist. I felt tense, wondering if his friends and family were hoping for a "pie in the sky" eulogy or for the truth. Yet, in an unabashed manner the speaker wove together a history of the deceased man. He told about the fatherless childhood this man had had to experience. He recounted the possibility that this circumstance might have hardened the man's heart against our heavenly Father. Raised by a single mother during the Depression could harden a person's heart. He spoke briefly about the man's military experience and the rigors that brings. He spoke about the estranged relationship the man had with his own daughter, the result of him being fatherless. Detail after detail was shared, intertwined with glimpses of the love of our Heavenly Father.
Throughout this atheist's life, our Heavenly Father was searching to reconcile this man with Himself. Little by little our Heavenly Father brought people into his life to peel away the pain that this man had locked up inside. Why would an atheist listen numerous times, as the speaker said, to the testimony of a drug addict saved from death to life, unless his own heart wanted to believe? Why would he spend time eating his meals at a place known for recounting stories of marvelous conversions? God was chasing him till the very end to give this atheist hope, and God did just that. Late in his life God sent him a wife whose name translates into English as "hope." I can imagine that with the seeds of the gospel message implanted in his heart through audio testimonies and bedside stories, that every time he uttered his wife's name, his heart yearned to hope that there was a better place, a heavenly place, for him. May his soul rest in the hope of the resurrection and the love of Christ.
When the speaker concluded, there was a time for a short sharing of memories of the deceased man. One of his friends stood up, a biker who was tattooed and wearing a U.S. flag bandana; he shared that the speaker had summarized the life of the dead man correctly. No need to gloss over someone's life — just tell the truth in love, and your words will reach the hearts of others.
At the gravesite the 21-gun salute pierced the afternoon air. Yet my prayer is that when the trumpet of God sounds and the dead in Christ awake, this man will rise and meet the Father he always had, our heavenly Father. "For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first" (1 Thessalonians 4:16).
— — —
Gio Marin is an author, currently working on a master of divinity degree at Andrews Seventh-Day Adventist Theological Seminary, with a dual emphasis on systematic theology and church growth & evangelism. Visit For His Glory, the blog, and send an email to {email GioMarinColumn@aol.com}GioMarinColumn@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Gio Marin