My Dad’s Funeral

On Saturday we buried my father. The funeral service itself was quite beautiful. Lots of people and lots of tears both Saturday and Friday at the viewing. Something that stuck out to me was how many people had felt that my dad “especially liked” them. At the funeral I delivered the pastoral message and what follows is my unchanged––and punctuated/formatted for speaking not writing––text.

 

Saturday, April 7, 2018

“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.”

Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die.”

Everything within us resists Death.

“If only…”

…Martha moans. Full of regret. Her brother Lazarus gone.

Two paragraphs later, her sister Mary    same thing 

“If only you had been here…”

We don’t like our loved ones suddenly ripped from us.

If only…I could have had more time…    one more chance to…

I myself have tickets two weeks from now (Chicago/NY). 

My calendar that day reads:   “Breakfast with Dad”

Me, my dad, my 17 yo. 

It was to have been the first stop on my son’s “becoming a man” trip

The oldest son’s oldest son’s oldest son getting some manhood advice

My dad talking man-to-man to my son

Now that breakfast will never take place. 

And I don’t like that.   !! It’s nearly first thing Mom said @midnight:02 night of Dad’s death. “Oh, Dann…I’m at hospital…he’s not going to be able to do breakfast with you.”

And she wept.

Like we are weeping today.

None of us will sit down to another meal with Larry Johnson. 

No more Sammy’s Pizza. 

No more plastic gold bowls with 4 breakfast cereals poured to precision in both quantity and order. 

No more piping hot…anything. 

These are the kings of things that make us so desperately SAD today. [We’re going to miss him!]

However. However.

We will eat together again. We will sit down to eat together at the marriage supper of the Lamb.

And that’s what makes us so desperately HOPEFUL today. 

This isn’t the end!

Though I cannot prove that to you if you doubt it. 

In fact, God himself made His world in such a way that we will forever fall short of even being able to prove he exists! 

Not until He comes again on the clouds. 

********Because what God ultimately wants is love freely given.********

We love Because He first loved us.

[Sing??“Oh, how I love Jesus, because…”]

And ONLY God’s love can explain how Larry Robert Johnson should have loved so many of you. 

A year or so ago    visiting our house and     guys hanging drywall

Apart from the love of God, I cannot explain why one of these kids, who failed to graduate, had no vehicle or driver’s license, supporting a girlfriend and a son but no stable housing, should say to me: 

“I like your dad. I don’t know, he’s cool. I really like him.” 

It’s not because my dad was actually “cool.” Far from it. Right? He didn’t know the first thing about cool. Or anything about anything that this kid would have cared about in his life. 

But he LOVED!

He was honestly interested. 

Talked with this guy. Gave him a Bible. Told him about Jesus being the Way. Jesus being Truth. Jesus being Life. Quoted lots of other Scriptures while they talked. 

My dad saw this  young man’s potential because he saw him for what he truly was: 

a one-of-a-kind human being created with glory and for glory. 

[All I can recall saying was, “Dad, these guys aren’t doing any work while they’re talking with you… Can you dial it back a bit?]

He said to me: “That boy is close. He’s ready. He’s not far from the Kingdom.” 

And that’s how my dad saw the world. 

A lot of you experienced that, too. It might have even been a fairly random encounter with a quirky, corny, pretty particular old man, but somehow you knew he liked you. Acted like he loved you. 

Cause he did.     Cause God does.

The day after my dad died, I talked to grandson Christopher on the phone. “I’m so sorry, Christopher; you’ve lost your grandpa.” 

Do you know his immediate response? “Yeah, he really loved me.” 

Such a deep, deep longing that we ALL share: to be unconditionally loved. 

And when we find it. When we know it! It FREES us to also love.

Nothing looks more Christlike on us than when we love.

Though love is a always a risk. It always hurts. There will be loss. 

We’ve lost him. Our time with my dad is finished. 

Today, we honor him, and his life. We celebrate the great guy that he was. 

But NOW he meets JESUS face to face! 

He’s with his Maker! No more tears for him!

[In fact, I can already picture my dad’s smile on the day that I join him up there. (Though for some reason I’m having trouble imagining away that missing tooth he had there at the end…)]

This is the HOPE we have.

Hope for the next life is the only thing that makes sense of this one. 

Christ in this life is the only thing that can make sense of Death when it comes. 

And we see Death for what it really is: 

Just a door. From “reality” into REALITY.

From I Corinthians: 

“Death has been swallowed up in victory! Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death is your sting? 

“The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. BUT thanks be to God! He GIVES US the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

“Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.”

We celebrate Larry. 

Trust  Christ.

God be with you.

2 thoughts on “My Dad’s Funeral”

  1. Dann,

    I wish we could have been there for your dad’s sendoff. I’m sorry I didn’t know him better than I did. Even though your dad is my uncle, I only saw him maybe 3 times when I was a kid. The strongest memory I have of him was his smile. I can’t wait to get to know him.

    Pease and comfort,

    Mark

    1. It would have been wonderful to have you there, Mark. Hard to believe, thinking of how many scores of times I’ve been with your folks, that you didn’t cross paths with my dad more.
      Heaven awaits!

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