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Those Very Difficult Funeral Sermons

By May 28, 2014No Comments
Reading Time: 2 minutes

I hesitated posting this message but after talking to the family of the deceased I was told to post it if I felt it might help someone. I certainly hope it can.

I try to put a lot of effort into funeral sermons. Back in Bible College, my ministry professor told us, “Be known for your funerals.” I took those words to heart and have really tried to do my best. I’ve done a lot of them too. I have a mortician friend who often uses me for difficult funerals. I’ve done a lot of state funded funerals for families that have next to nothing. I’ve also done a few for people living in group homes for the developmentally disabled. Those are very dear to my heart.

And I’ve done suicides.

Those are never easy, but this one was exceptionally difficult. A young man in our church took his own life. We’re a small community and everyone knows everyone else. The whole town was rocked. Over the course of the week following the suicide, we had high school students in our building for counseling and simply a place to get away and be together. We met with them in the schools, on the streets, anywhere they were.

Speaking at such an event is difficult enough. Knowing what to say and how to bring peace into the situation can seem impossible. It may have been if it weren’t for my own loss through suicide.

In 1999 my brother took his life. In the midst of that terrible experience I had what I can only describe as a very unique touch from God and an awareness of His presence like never before. There’s not enough room here to write about it, but maybe I will later. The verse at the center of this sermon was also at the center of my heart through that experience. Psalm 90:12, “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”

I’ve had many positive comments following this message. People have told me they were amazed how I didn’t shy away from the issue of suicide but addressed it with love and grace. The family told me they were comforted because I seemed to know exactly what to say.

Truth be told, Austin’s funeral sermon was the one I would have preached for my brother if I could have. I used my own pain and what I’ve learned in the fifteen years since to address the situation in front of us. I think Rick Warren is right, “Don’t waste your pain; let God heal it, recycle it, utilize it and use it to bless other people. Use your pain as a model for your message and a witness to the world.”