He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
Revelation 21:1-6
Hillier Bereavement Service
Sunday 7th October 2001
He
will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
There
is an Eastern legend about a Hindu woman whose only child had died. She went to
a prophet to ask for her child back. The prophet told her to go and obtain a
handful of rice from a house into which death had not come. If she could obtain
the rice in this way, he promised to give her the child back. From door to door
she asked the question, "Are you all here around the table -- father,
mother, children -- none missing?" But always the answer came back that
there were empty chairs in each house. As she continued on, her grief and
sorrow softened as she found that death had visited all families.
Yes,
it is true that we are all here for the same reason. We have all been drawn by a common bond, the bond of grief and
bereavement. We are here to mourn with
those who mourn and there is something important, something special about
drawing together with others who share our pain.
But
equally true is the fact that each of us is here with a completely different
experience, a completely unique grief and sorrow. We might be here to mourn a parent, a grand parent, a husband, a
wife, a child, a friend. The death may
have been a sudden shock, brought with a knock at the door. It may have seemed premature, unnatural,
deeply unfair. Or they may have died
peacefully, after a long life, or perhaps even with a sense of release after
illness for which we are grateful.
He
will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
And
the ways in which we grieve can be so different. Grief can be the effort of
trying to raise three children, alone. Grief can be being filled with shocked
uncertainty and confusion so that we strike out at the nearest person. Grief
can be a mother walking daily to a nearby cemetery to stand quietly and alone a
few minutes before going about the tasks of the day. She knows that part of her
is in the cemetery, just as part of her is in her daily work. Grief can be the
silent, knife-like terror and sadness that comes a hundred times a day, when
you start to speak to someone who is no longer there. Grief can be the
emptiness that comes when you eat alone after eating with another for many
years.
Grief
is teaching yourself to go to bed without saying good night to the one who had
died. Grief is the helpless wishing that things were different when you know
they are not and never will be again. Grief can be the sheer effort of putting
one foot in front of the other in a world which holds none of the familiarity
it used to have. Grief can be the pain
of unresolved problems and the burden of regrets. Grief is a whole cluster of adjustments, apprehensions, and
uncertainties that strike life in its forward progress and make it difficult to
redirect the energies of life. The way
each of us grieves is unique and equally valid.
He
will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
But
what really makes your experience unique is this: you continue to love the
memory of a person who was a particular individual, at a particular time and
place in history, who you knew and loved in a way that nobody else has done or
could do. Your relationship has been
unique, the experiences you shared together were special and precious, and the
particular path of grief you walk now is unique. That is why, although we are all here to share and support each
other, none of us is truly able to fully understand the particular pain each of
us carries, and each of us has our own isolated journey to make.
But
he will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
I
believe there are as many paths in grief as there are people. But I believe there are two ultimate
responses that the death of a loved one can create in us. One is to be so overwhelmed by our grief
that we give up on life, on other people and on ourselves. This is despairing life. The other is to gradually find our way to a
place where facing the reality of death can lead us to a new appreciation of
the life we have. In learning how
fragile our happiness is, we come to cherish it more. This is hopeful life.
But if we are to live hopefully, we need a source of hope. And if there are many paths of grief, if there are two ways of living, there is one source of hope that has the strength to carry us through death. It is the hope that God is there. It is the hope that he is with his people. On March 2, 1791 John Wesley, a famous preacher, uttered his last words: "The best of all is, God is with us!"
I
believe in the kingdom come. I believe
in life after death. I believe most
cultures and peoples - from the Egyptians with their pyramids, to the Incas
with their royal graves, to the eternal flames in the war cemetries of many
peoples - have an instinct that there has to be more to life than what we know
now. I believe that Jesus rose from the
dead to show us our destiny. I believe
that the vision of our reading is that God's ultimate purposes for human beings
is that all are made new beyond death, that he should be with us. And that he should
wipe away every tear from our eyes.
Some
people say, “Don’t offer me the crutch of eternal life. Don’t give me false hope.” If it isn’t true, then it is a
crutch. If it isn’t true, then
it’s a false hope that we are better off without.
But if
it is true that God exists, then our reading tells us that he holds our
loved ones. If it is true that
the home of God is with us beyond death, then our reading tells us that he ends
their pain, and mourning and crying.
And if it is true that God wipes away every tear, then the more
wonderful thing is this. That each
individual person we have known and loved is also known and loved by God uniquely. That every tear they have shed,
everything they have felt, everything they shared with you is known by
God. He will wipe away every
tear. The Bible says that God knows our
loved ones by name, as individuals, as the special people they were to us, and
are to him.
And for those of us who are left behind, God knows every tear. The true reality of your journey of grief is unknown to anyone else, but every tear you shed, at whatever time of day or night, is known to God. Your loneliness, your isolation, not comprehended even by your closest friens or family, is understood by the God who made you. He will wipe away every tear, not just the tears we show to others, but the ones we hide, the ones we keep inside. He knows them all, and he knows why they are shed.
There
was a man called Hudson Taylor, a remarkable missionary who gave up home,
family, culture, and job to do what he thought God wanted of him. But in
the closing months of his life said to a friend, "I am so weak. I can't
read my Bible. I can't even pray. I can only lie still in God's arms like a
little child and trust." In
each of our unique pathways through pain and grief, may we learn to trust the
God who knows every tear we shed, and promises to wipe them away.