Don’t cry at a Christian child’s funeral

Luke 7:11 Soon afterward, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went along with him. ¹² As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out-- the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her. ¹³ When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, "Don't cry." ¹⁴ Then he went up and touched the coffin, and those carrying it stood still. He said, "Young man, I say to you, get up!" ¹⁵ The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother. ¹⁶ They were all filled with awe and praised God. "A great prophet has appeared among us," they said. "God has come to help his people." ¹⁷ This news about Jesus spread throughout Judea and the surrounding country.

I served for eight years as a pastor in a small mission congregation in central Kentucky. Because our congregation was less than 75 members for most of my ministry there, and because it was mainly made up of younger military families, I only conducted two funerals in those eight years. It was quite different as soon as I arrived at Epiphany – a much larger congregation with a much older membership. In my first year I conducted fifteen funerals. I learned how to preach at funerals pretty quickly that year.

Over the years I have conducted numerous funerals – big funerals, small funerals, funerals at church, funerals at the funeral home, and memorial services at the cemetery. By God’s grace, the one funeral I have not had to conduct is for a child.

You have been to those funerals. They are heartbreaking. They are difficult. They are filled with tears. They are large.

It is an axiom of time that the older a person gets, the smaller his funeral will be. Perhaps that’s because we can make sense of the death of someone who is older and unhealthy, who has lived a long life. Funerals of the elderly tend to be calmer and more peaceful. There is even a sense of relief.

When the young die, though, there is outrage and bitterness and anger. It’s not supposed to be this way. No parent should have to bury her child. But when it happens, the funeral tends to be large, painful, and filled with tears.

That’s the scene Jesus comes upon as He walks toward the gates of the small town of Nain. Jesus has a crowd following Him, for He has been preaching to various groups, gathering disciples, and healing the lame and the deathly ill. There is also a crowd following the funeral procession. The two crowds meet and Jesus can easily pick the mother out of the crowd of mourners. He immediately knows who she is. On the cross He would single out His own dear mother and provide a son for her in His death. Jesus singles this mother out and is about to provide her with her son.

Perhaps some of you have felt this woman’s grief and pain. She has buried her husband and now she must bury her young son. Her eyes surely were swollen with tears; her face contorted with grief; her heart broken with pain.

This is what death does to us. It robs us of those we love. It separates husband from wife, son from mother. Death will come to all of us because all of us are sinners. Children are sinners, too, therefore children die. Death is the wages of sin; it’s the price of Adam’s sin and our own. That young man was a sinner, born with the congenital disease of Adam in his own flesh and bones. Whether the young man died of an accident or an illness, the ultimate cause of his death was his sin.

That’s sometimes overlooked at funerals. We’re hesitant to talk about sin amidst all the grief over the death of a loved one. We know we aren’t perfect. We realize we are sinners. We confess it every Sunday. But we don’t really want to hear about it at a funeral. No, we want to celebrate the life, not focus on the reason for the death.

Before I write a funeral sermon, I meet with the family to gather stories about the deceased – dates of baptism, confirmation and wedding; how their faith was demonstrated in church and home; what their faith in Christ meant to them and to their family members; etc. I was gathering similar stories about one of our members who had been called home by her Lord. Sadly, her children no longer attended a Christian church. Jesus wasn’t important to them any longer. One of the daughters actually said to me, “Pastor, I know you need to talk about Jesus and stuff, but can you focus on telling stories about our mom in your sermon?”

No. Christian funeral are different from any other kind of funeral. Sure, those who aren’t Christian and don’t go to church try to find comfort – or at least consolation – in nice stories about their deceased loved one. You and I go to the Christian funeral because we know we are going to hear what a miserable, wretched sinner the deceased person was. But we will also hear what a glorious, righteous saint Christ made that sinner into through His own death and resurrection. We don’t attend a Christian funeral to hear stories about the deceased. We come to hear Gospel stories about Jesus Christ. A Christian funeral is not about celebrating the life of the deceased. It is about the life, death, and life again of Jesus Christ, who has then given that life to our Christian loved one.

Jesus hates death as much as we do – even more than we do. His compassionate heart reaches out to this grieving mother. He saw her in her utmost need (CW: 413). The Word incarnate speaks of word of comfort, as only Jesus can: “Don’t cry.”

In all the funerals I’ve done, I’ve never told people not to cry. Crying is natural. Sadness abounds and tears flow freely. But with Jesus, it’s different. His words come with action. His words actually do dry tears. Because His words carry life.

He goes to the open coffin and touches it. Touching a dead body made one unclean in Jewish ceremonial law. But a dead body could not make the Lord of life unclean. Instead the Lord of life – who is perfectly clean, completely righteous and alive with almighty power –makes the dead boy alive again. “Young man, I say to you, ‘Get up!’”

Last Sunday we witnessed Jesus’ Word doing what He says in healing a centurion’s servant, even from a distance. But now we witness how far the Word of Jesus reaches. Even into the death and the grave. Even the dead hear His voice and must obey!

The little town of Nain becomes ground zero for the battlefield between the Son of God and the god of this world. The war is on between the Lord of life, and the death-dealing, life-robbing devil. When Jesus touches the boy’s coffin, Life and death meet. Neither willing to give an inch. Jesus in compassion; death in its cold finality. The procession stops but the battle commences. And with only a touch and a Word, Life wins. Death, which that morning had looked so powerful, was forced to flee and relinquish its grip on the boy. Where there had been sorrow, now there was joy. Where there was mourning, now there was faith. Where there had been tears, now there was the reality and the future promise that there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain (Rev 21:4).

At this time of the year, the TV is filled with all kinds of previews for upcoming summer blockbuster movies. What happens in Nain is a preview, a prologue, of the blockbuster event which would take place on Calvary. For there, on the cross, the battle would be taken up again, between the Son of God and the god of this world, between life and death. And there, on the cross, just as at Nain, the eldest son of a widow will die. But there would not be a great crowd of mourners, only a few faithful disciples who take His body down, and a few faithful women who follow to the tomb to see where He is laid. And death again will look very powerful indeed.

But the Word incarnate rose from the dead. Death was once again left powerless. It had lost its grip on its greatest Victim. And because Jesus lives, those who die in the Lord will be raised with the Lord. The voice of the Word incarnate will call all those from the grave, and it will have to release them, too. The elderly, the middle aged, the young.

What Jesus did for the poor widow who was so stricken with grief, He will do for each of us. Reuniting parent with child, breaking down the walls of the grave, swallowing up death in His victory. Resurrection means reunion, life with God, life in Christ, life in communion with our fellow saints in heaven.

“Don’t cry.” If you or I try telling a grieving parent not to cry, it just sounds foolish. Of course she’s going to cry! We can offer her pious platitudes like, “It’ll be all right.” “I’m here for you.” “Time heals all wounds.” Only the Lord of life and death can say, “Don’t cry” and mean it. For there is no need to weep when we notice that “God has come to help his people.” “He lives to silence all my fears; He lives to wipe away my tears” (CW: 152). “Come not in terrors, as the King of kings, But kind and good, with healing in thy wings, Tears for all woes, a heart for ev'ry plea; Come, Friend of sinners, thus abide with me” (CW: 588). With Jesus, a parent’s sorrow over her Christian child’s death is turned to joy; her hope is restored; her reunion is assured; for life will follow death, because even death must obey its Lord and Master.

The events in Nain teach us that Jesus did not come to make peace with death. He did not come to contain it, appease it or tolerate it. He came to defeat it. He came to defeat death because He came to defeat sin. So when life and death meet at the city gates, death must retreat and life gains the victory.

We must remember that victory, even at the funeral of a Christian child. The death of a child is always difficult and heart-rending. People speak about their time ending too short, about all the thing they will miss in life. But I’ve taught my daughters about the death of a young person in terms of riding a roller coaster:

My girls and I love riding roller coasters. One of our favorites is Expedition Everest in the Animal Kingdom park at Walt Disney World. It is such a popular ride that the lines can be between one and two hours long. In order to keep people interested while waiting in line, Disney has provided a museum dedicated to the yeti of Everest that people can wind their way through. They will have fun reading the displays, looking at images of Tibet, seeing make-believe footprints and skulls of the yeti, and watching other people having fun on the roller coaster.

But Disney World has something called a Fast Pass where riders can skip the long line and go straight onto the ride. Only a select few get to use the Fast Pass every hour. Sure, they miss all the stuff to do in line, but getting to their ultimate destination is way more fun and important.

That’s what the death of a Christian child is like. God, by His grace, has selected that child for a Fast Pass into heaven. Yes, the child misses all the fun and interesting things God allows us to do to keep busy here before we reach the gates of heaven, but that child also misses 70-80 years of pain, sin, heartache and everything else we endure while standing in life’s line. Instead, God takes them to their ultimate destination – heaven – which is more fun and more important, by far. By divine inspiration, the apostle Paul said it so well: “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. … I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far” (Philippians 1:21, 23).

So, Jesus tells us that we don’t have to cry at a Christian funeral, even at the death of a child. Life has already defeated death. Jesus has conquered the devil at his own game. The victory has been won. A family reunion will take place in heaven. Don’t cry for the Christian child, for, by God’s grace, he has bypassed this veil of tears and is already enjoying the ultimate destination in paradise. Amen.