Our Welcoming God (A Funeral Sermon)

Prelude

There is no deeper human need than the need to belong, to feel at home, to be welcomed.  I want to tell you about our welcoming God. I want to tell you about Jesus.

There are many good things a sermon at a funeral might hope to accomplish. Certainly, we want and need to hear words of comfort and hope. And yet not saccharine or superficial words—there is no sweetness in death; and hearts wounded by a real loss are not healed with words devoid of depth. So my prayer is that I might not MERELY provide bandage for your sorrowing spirits but a healing balm. Jesus—this I truly believe—Jesus is the healing balm. Jesus is our precious Savior, our strong and reliable refuge, our place of solace. 

I grew up saying it this way: 

My one and only comfort comes in knowing that I am not my own, but BELONG, body and soul, in life AND in death, to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ. 

So I could really end it right there, but I must confess this is just the introduction. But in a nutshell what I’m saying is this: We belong to Jesus; we belong to a faithful, promise-keeping, welcoming God.

 

I – Matthew (Welcoming the forgotten ones)

But I want to expand upon this just a bit—and, in doing so, to relate this to some happy memories and evidences of God’s grace in Phyllis’ life. And, to do this, I want to reflect upon four of my favorite gospel passages… one each from Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

In Matthew Jesus tells a story about the final judgment that reveals volumes about God’s priorities for us. In this story the king separates men and women like a shepherd sorting sheep and goats and he puts the sheep on his right hand, saying, “Come, you who have won my Father’s blessing! Take your inheritance—the kingdom reserved for you since the foundation of the world! For I was hungry and you gave me food. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was lonely and you made me welcome. I was naked and you clothed me. I was ill and you came and looked after me. I was in prison and you came to see me there.” 

You know the rest of the story, right? Those winning the king’s favor are surprised—even shocked—and ask, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and give you food? When did we see you thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you lonely and make you welcome, or see you naked and clothe you, or see you ill or in prison and go to see you?” And the king says, “I assure you that whatever you did for the humblest of my brothers and sisters you did for me.”

Sounds like God wants us to be a reflection of his own radical hospitality. To give to the ones least likely to pay us back, to remember and care for the forgotten and hidden ones. 

Our God as a WELCOMING GOD, a God of hospitality… makes me think of Phyllis.  I’ve heard so many neat stories from family and friends of Phyllis opening up the yard to trucks and her home to friends and family and strangers alike, stories of coffee-time evolving into a meal—maybe goulash with some corn on the side, maybe some bread pudding for dessert. Even at Country Neighbors every visitor got a Dum-Dum sucker. 

Grandchildren, great-grandkids, did you ever not feel welcomed? Did you ever not feel valued and loved? Of course not.  

Phyllis was ALWAYS helping somebody, always caring, sharing, demonstrating Christ’s compassion through her own caring spirit, reflecting God’s hospitality in a hundred different ways. What a wonderful legacy she leaves for your family. What a wonderful legacy for the church. 

     

I was in Mankato last night at the recognition dinner for the individuals and groups who volunteer to ring the bell during the Christmas season for the Salvation Army’s Red Kettle Campaign. The speaker told a story about a time when the founder of the Salvation Army, William Booth, wanted to send a “message to the troops” for their annual meeting. In the past, General Booth, as he was known, had always been present for these gatherings. But now his health was failing and he wouldn’t be able to attend. Funds were tight and Booth was by nature frugal and this, of course, was long before email or texting. So he sent a one-word message… by telegraph.  And it was opened with great fanfare and then read to the whole convention. It said simply, “OTHERS! Signed, Gen. Booth.” 

 

One word: Others.

II – Luke (Welcoming the lost)

There are three interconnected stories in Luke’s gospel and these, too, speak volumes about what God is like and our motivation for being caring, welcoming people:

In the first one, a shepherd has a sheep that’s gone missing. There are 99 accounted for and safe—just one missing. You know the ending, right? The shepherd finds the lost lamb and calls his friends to celebrate. In the second story, an elderly woman has ten coins but one is… LOST… she cleans like crazy until she finds it and then, coin in hand, she posts an excited message on Facebook, “Come to my house! We’re having a party with Potato Pancakes and Bread Pudding. Because the coin was lost but I found it!”

And do you remember the third one? Just like the first two—there’s something lost. And in the end there’s a party. Remember?

And when the younger son was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. The son started the speech he’d been rehearsing over and over, saying: “Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned against you; I don’t even deserve to be called your son...”

But the father wasn’t listening. “Quick!” he said to the servants, “Bring out the best robe and put it on him! Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet! Fetch the fattened calf and slaughter it. We’re going to feast! We’re going to have a wonderful time! Because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life! He was lost and is found!”

And then the festivities began in earnest!

So why should we do all the things Phyllis showed us how to do? Why do we live as reflections of our welcoming God? What’s our motivation?

One word: Gratitude

.

Because each of these stories is about us.

Lost.

And then found.

Dead.

And then alive again.

And then God throws a party.  Because, pure and simple, finding the lost makes God over-the-top happy; it makes God just as overjoyed as he wants us to be.

   

III – Mark (Welcoming the children)

So quickly to Mark for one more story.  The disciples—like us lots of times, although most often not to each other’s face—were arguing about which of them was most important. And Jesus said, “You want first place? Then take ahold of last place because whoever wants to be first must be least of all and the servant of all.” And then he reached for the hand of a little boy, placed him among the disciples, and hugged him. Then he said, “Whoever welcomes one of these children in my name welcomes me.” 

In spite of the challenge to our innate desire for first place, that story makes us smile, doesn’t it? It does because again we see Phyllis in the story—we remember how close she was to each of you and how she did just what Jesus said, “Welcome these children. Embrace them. Make sure they know they are precious, honored, loved.” 

Can we see something else in this story, too?  Isn’t it true that when you or I feel, “Yes, I do indeed belong to God; yes, I’m the little child that Jesus embraces”—it is at that very moment that we are set free to really live and laugh and love… to reflect the hospitality of our welcoming God as Phyllis did in her life. 

IV – John (Welcoming us home)

Both the subject and the object of this sermon is Jesus. The focus isn’t so much about how Phyllis lived or how we are called to live—that’s not unimportant but not the focus and we only worry about that AFTER we grasp the subject of our worship—Jesus—and give praise and thanksgiving and our innermost longings to the object of our worship—Jesus again.

It is this Jesus, the Son of God, who makes promises only he can keep.

Like Phyllis preparing a place for everyone at the supper table, Jesus assures us, Jesus promises, “I’m going to prepare a special place for you. And in the meantime, I’m going to leave you with the Holy Spirit who will make my presence REAL and ALIVE to you! So don’t let your hearts be distressed or stressed. You are precious to me. Have no fear, for I am with you always.”

Postlude

You know, the Bible give us a lot of details about how Jesus comes to take us home. There are a lot of popular ideas, images, pictures in our minds:  My grandmother had visions of a second story—all white—above her nursing home—where it was easy to walk around and the food was great.

I have this picture of Mary Ann and Myron and all of you and even me walking Phyllis to the edge of the River. And at the edge, we let her go and she walks through the water alone—but only for a moment—it’s less than a moment and then Jesus has her hand, and Jesus takes her safely across to the place where there’s no more pain, no more dying, no more tears. 

 

Whatever your image of this, you can be sure:  Our God is a “Welcome Home” God.  Jesus welcomed the least of these, the lost, the children.

Jesus’ very posture on the cross—his arms spread open—is a posture of welcome. Jesus’ posture at the fire on the shore after his resurrection—even towards Peter who had denied him—was a posture of reassurance, forgiveness, and welcome.  And so, even now, you can be sure, Phyllis is safe in the arms of Jesus.   

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.