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SERMON
At one time or another every one of us will lose someone we love. We'll stand at the cemetery and listen to some encouraging words (that is, if we're able to pay attention) and then have to walk away, leaving the earthly remains of our friend or family member behind. Today's lesson from Genesis is the rather matter-of-fact account of the death and burial of Sarah. But in this simple story I believe we can find help for those times when we face our own grief.
I want to talk primarily today about the grief that comes with death, although I realize people grieve for all sorts of reasons. We might grieve when a friend moves away, or when a child leaves for school or to be married. We grieve over a divorce or the loss of something cherished. We grieve in the anxiety that comes with a life-threatening illness, or over a romance that may have once seemed so promising but then ended, or over a family relationship that isn't what we hoped it would be.
Grief comes on us for many different reasons, of course. And I know that some of you are wrestling with grief today. As a church family we've endured some deeply felt losses this past year. And I know that some of you are dealing with profound losses in your life. You've had to say goodbye to people very dear to you and the wound may still be tender. So there's a sense in which we come to these verses today not so much as students looking for insight as the wounded looking for healing. So I pray God's healing touch in his Word for us today.
1. The first sentence of our text begins: "Sarah lived…" She lived for one hundred twenty-seven years. Then the second sentence begins: "She died…" Now it may seem rather pedantic, but I think the order is quite important. Sarah lived before she died. That simple fact, however, is easy to forget when we're faced with a loss. And that oversight may be particularly true when it comes to those who have been ill for a long time, either in a care facility or at home. For a while it seems like all we can remember is the process of dying. Memories of a time when that person was filled with life are sometimes hard to recall. We have no trouble remembering the trials of the disease, but find it hard to recall the blessings that came before those trials.
Well, it's that way with any loss. It's so easy to forget the good when the bad seems to have taken over. And, of course, it's natural to focus on death when it happens. But unless we're aware of what's going on, we may miss an opportunity to celebrate the blessings we've enjoyed. That's why I cherish those times when I can sit with a grieving family and talk about the past. Those are some of the most precious conversations I have the privilege of being involved in. We laugh at the joy we've known and cry at the loss we endure.
Sadly, when talking with someone who has suffered a loss, many people make the well-intentioned mistake of avoiding altogether talking about the person who died - or anything associated with the loss. They "don't want to upset" the one who is grieving, they'll say. Unfortunately they're acting as if the person never lived. It is not helpful to the person grieving to feel that the one who is gone could be so easily forgotten. In my own limited experience, the one thing most grieving people want to do is talk about the one who has died. They want to talk about how rich life was when that person was around. They love to hear about a special memory or to be told that you were missing that person today. True, at times it brings a tear - but it's usually a grateful tear.
I want you to notice also from the text this morning that there was much more to know about Sarah. The obituary tells us how old she was and where she died, and that's about all. But what a life story that woman had to tell! She was grandmother of the nation of Israel, despite having born the shame of childlessness until she was ninety years old. Twice she was trapped in a foreign king's harem because of her husband's unbelieving folly. She could only stand and watch as her only son was led away to be sacrificed - yet lived to see his thirty-seventh birthday before she died. What a full lifetime of experience! A person's life is so much more than what we read in their obituary. It always is.
Do you realize that there are unmined riches in everyone we meet? There are blessings to be gained, joys to share, and depths to explore. We need to take time to get to know each other. Let me make a few suggestions for those of us who are getting on in years - say, over thirty. Tell your stories to your family; and if you're ambitious, write them down. Ask others about their lives, their dreams. Take lots of pictures. Set out to learn something new about the people you care about every day. People love to talk about themselves; but usually we have to ask. Sarah lived before she died. Don't miss that.
2. Another lesson from our text today is the rather simple observation that Abraham "went to mourn for Sarah and to weep over her." I'm glad the author included that. There's a foolish notion that people of faith don't cry at the death of someone they love. When you hear people say, "I have to be strong," it may be helpful to ask them, "Why?" Grief is a natural part of life and death.
Max Lucado has given us some wonderful insight in his book, No Wonder They Call Him the Savior. He writes: Tears - those tiny drops of humanity; those round wet balls of fluid that tumble from our eyes, creep down our cheeks, and splash on the floor of our hearts. They are always present at such times. They should be, that's their job. They are miniature messengers; on call twenty-four hours a day to substitute for crippled words. They drip, drop, and pour from the corner of our souls, carrying with them the deepest emotions we possess. They tumble down our faces with announcements that range from the most blissful joy to the darkest despair.
The principle is simple: when words are most empty, tears are most apt. A tearstain on a letter says much more than the sum of all its words. A tear falling on a casket says what a spoken farewell never could. What summons a parent's compassion and concern more quickly than a tear on a child's cheek? What gives more support than a sympathetic tear on the face of a friend? When words are hard to come by, tears speak clearly.
Sometimes people will think: "I'd go visit this grieving person, but I just don't know what to say." If that's what you're thinking, allow the late Joe Bayly to tell you about his own experience of grief after the death of one of the three sons he buried. He writes:
I was sitting, torn by grief. Someone came and talked to me of God's dealings - of why it happened, of hope beyond the grave. He talked constantly; he said things I knew were true. I was unmoved, except to wish he'd go away. He finally did.
Another came and sat beside me. He didn't talk. He didn't ask leading questions. He just sat beside me for an hour and more, listening when I said something, answered briefly, prayed simply, and then left. I was moved. I was comforted. I hated to see him go.
From my experience, people don't "get over" their grief; they learn to manage it. Sometimes people are tender for months, perhaps years, after they lose someone they care about. In fact, many years later a tender memory can bring an unexpected surge of sadness. Abraham "went to mourn for Sarah and to weep over her." I'm glad that's part of the story.
3. But to me, perhaps the most helpful lesson from our text is what Abraham did after Sarah's death. The balance of chapter 23 offers some fascinating insight into the business practices of Abraham's day. But if we focus too much on his negotiations with Ephron, we might miss the deeper significance of what Abraham was doing. He was negotiating the purchase of a cave. True to the custom, Ephron had offered not only the cave but the field as a gift. But that was clearly part of Ephron's game plan. Because in those days, as now, such a "gift" might have all sorts of strings attached. Abraham wanted clear title to the cave. So he asked again; and finally Ephron offered to sell him not only the cave, but the entire field - for four hundred shekels of silver.
Did Ephron take advantage of Abraham's grief? Did he throw in the field and then jack up the price because he knew Abraham was in no position to argue with him? Probably. But Abraham maintained his integrity and paid the full asking price. And that cave would become the final resting place for not only Sarah, but Abraham - and Isaac and Rebekah - and Leah and
Jacob. But there's more to the story than that.
For almost seventy-five years God had been promising Abraham a land that he and his descendants would possess forever. But for all those years Abraham had been a wanderer, forever recalling the promise of a "promised land," but with clear title to none of it - until now. Abraham chose to bury his wife in that cave in that field because he believed God would keep his word. Abraham didn't buy that field for convenience; he bought it in faith. He chose to bury his wife there because he believed that this would one day be the homeland of his family. Even in his grief, Abraham was looking ahead in faith. Now there's a powerful image for you and me. Abraham focused on the promise - even in his time of loss and grief. He didn't withdraw from God. In fact, he went ahead and acted on God's promise.
Now, please understand. I'm not suggesting that Abraham stopped feeling sad. I'm sure there were nights when he rolled over and missed seeing Sarah next to him. I'm sure there were times when he thought, "I need to tell this to Sarah," only to remember that she was gone. I'm sure there were times when he was caught off guard and a new wave of grief swept over him. But I suspect Abraham comforted himself with simple words - like "some day."
The author of the letter to the Hebrews put the matter this way. "All these people (Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Leah) were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own… They were longing for a better country - a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them."
Brothers and sisters, if we want to get through our times of grief, we would do well to remember the example of Abraham. When the pain of loss is fresh, focus on God's faithfulness. In Jesus, God has promised us not only life with him forever, but reunion with those we love. So in our times of grief we have to ask ourselves the same question Abraham asked himself: "Do I really believe God's promise?" It's easy to profess belief when things are going well. But when you're looking death square in the face, faith in a resurrected Lord Jesus is no longer an academic issue; it is intensely practical and real.
There are a few decisions I hope you will consider making today. First, I hope you will decide to make sure that your faith is sure. Then I hope you'll work to make sure that the faith of your family is sure. And I say that rather selfishly, because I find it rather difficult to do a funeral for someone who has no apparent interest in the gospel. I know that we are not to judge - that's God's job. And I know that some people turn to Christ in the last moments of their lives. But some don't. And in those times it's harder to speak with any clear sense of hope. To put it bluntly, there are people for whom death is a tragedy rather than a graduation.
Don't leave your family to wonder about you. And don't let your family go through this life without the confidence that comes with a personal and life-changing relationship with Jesus. None of us is good enough to earn heaven. We need help if we have any hope of salvation. We're talking about life and death here. So why not sit down as a family and talk about eternity today?
Second, I hope you will decide today to be a friend to those who are grieving. Be patient with them. Learn to listen. Share stories of the good old days. Let them know that they don't grieve alone.
Finally, I hope you will set out to make the most of your life. Cherish the people God sends your way. Open your eyes. Take it all in. Ask questions. Celebrate life. As one very wise person put it: "You've got to dance like nobody's watching, and love like it's never going to hurt." But I will warn you that if you live that way, grief is likely to be more intense. The hurt of loss will be more severe. But as far as I know, the only way to avoid grief is to keep everyone at a distance. In other words, to avoid loving. To do that, brothers and sisters, is to waste your life. And your life is too good for that.
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