16 August 2019 St. Mark Lutheran Church
Funeral Sermon for William Douthwaite
Ridley Park, PA
“The Promise of Nothing”
Text: Isaiah
55:6-13; Romans 8:26-39; Philippians 1:18b-26; Matthew 28:1-10
I wrote this sermon when
Dad was put on hospice for the first time; when we were told he only had ten
days to live. That was three and a half years ago! God gave us the gift of
these extra years, which were so precious. So, with a little editing . . .
Nothing can separate us
from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
If you go with us to
Mount Hope cemetery today, you will see those words etched into my father’s
headstone. Those were his words. Nothing can separate us from the love of
God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
And I think the older he
grew, the more precious they grew, because it seemed like he was being
separated from everything and everyone else. All of his immediate family has been gone for some time now. When you’re the youngest child,
I guess that’s to be expected to some extent. But that has been the case for quite
some time now - not just that they were all taken from him, but that they were
so soon. Too soon.
Of course, the separation
that hit him hardest was when his Nancy was separated from him. Being ten years
older, he said, he always thought he would go first. A not unreasonable
expectation, we would say. But that our Lord called her home frist, and almost 15 years ago, is another indication of
what Isaiah said: that God’s ways are not our ways, and His thoughts not our
thoughts.
Then for the past almost
six years, he was separated from his home - from the home he had lived in for
almost 50 years, the church, here, that he was a member of for over 50 years,
and from some of you that he had been friends with for 50 years. That grieved
him too. He loved it here. He loved all of you. He didn’t want to be separated
from you, but knew . . . but knew that it was needed. A bum hip, a tired body,
and a failing memory were making it too hard to stay.
So Dad, I think, was a
lot like the apostle John in this regard. John was the last one too. At the end
of his life, he was separated from his home, in exile on the island of Patmos.
In the book of Revelation, John sees visions of the martyrs who went before him
- and I always think he saw his friends in that group in heaven wearing white
robes. Peter, his brother James, Andrew, and the rest - they all went before
him, too.
But then Dad was like the
apostle Paul, too. For Paul’s words from Philippians that we heard were his
words: My
desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain
in the flesh is more necessary . . .
Dad didn’t know why staying was necessary; he wanted, like Paul, to go home. He
said it many times. All the separation was hard for him. Hearing another friend
had gone before him - especially his good friend Jack Buss - was hard for him.
He wanted to go to that place Jesus had gone to prepare for him.
So
how very, very precious these words of Christ for him, and for us today.
As he, and we, live in the midst of a world of separation: Nothing can
separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing. Neither death nor life,
nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor
height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation. Nothing. Not even a failing memory.
And the answer why is
very simple: we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. More than conquerors through Him who
was separated from His Father for us; forsaken on the cross for us. More
than conquerors through Him who loved us so much that He entered into our
death with us, enduring the condemnation of our sin for us. More than
conquerors through Him who then brok the seal of
the grave for us and rose to life again. More than conquerors through
Him who then baptized us into His death and resurrection, that we might rise too. With Him. And never be
separated from Him. Baptism is that inseparable bond where Jesus binds Himself
to us, so that nothing can separate us from Him. Nothing.
Yes, His Word and promise combined with that little bit of ordinary water is .
. . that . . . great.
And Dad knew it. Jesus
had planted that faith in his heart and made it grow and flourish over the
years, as Dad was fed by the Word he heard preached here by so many pastors
over so many years from that third pew on the left - right in front of the
pulpit. That was his pew. And as his faith was strengthened by the Word of Absolution
he heard pronounced here so often, and as he was fed by the Body and Blood of
the Lord at this altar. Jesus was holding onto him.
And that’s why a few
years ago, Dad wanted to make sure of his baptism. One day he started thinking
about the fact that while he thought he had been baptized, and was
pretty sure he had been, he didn’t have a certificate, and all that had
witnessed it were already gone. The church wasn’t even there any more. But he wanted to be sure. It was really important
to him. To have the nothing of baptism - the nothing can separate
you from the love of God in Christ Jesus - that was so important to
him.
And so my sister started
making phone calls and investigating and following up . . . and finally found a
pastor who had the records from the old church that had once been there, and
Dad made a copy of the page showing that he had been baptized on April 20,
1924. And just how important that was to him is shown by the fact that he kept
that page in special folder all its own, which he kept in his fireproof lock
box with all his other really important papers.
Ironically, while we were
looking at some of his old papers on Tuesday, we found his baptism certificate
- it was on the display you saw when you came in. He had it all along. He just
forgot. Toward the end, he forgot a lot of things. But Jesus never forgot him.
Jesus never forgets his children.
Nothing can separate us from
the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Which
is why he could say so often, with Paul, and pray for the Lord to take him
home, to that place prepared for him. It wasn’t because he
was so strong, so faithful, or so good - but because he had Jesus’ promise. Nothing
can separate me from you, Bill. Nothing. Tribulation,
or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword . . . or
dementia?
Nah. I beat it all. I am your Good Shepherd. You shall
not want . . . and you shall dwell with me in my house forever.
So now Dad has been
separated from us - but just for a little while. The Father
who did not spare His own Son but gave him up for us
all,
has now answered Dad’s prayers and called our father home. As He graciously
gave him all things here in this life, so now still graciously giving
him all things - including rest and peace and no more pain, as we await the day
of the resurrection of all flesh. Our grand reunion with Dad
and Mom, Bill and Nancy - Uncle Bee - and All the Saints who from their
labors rest (LSB #677).
So we will do as Paul
said, and rejoice today. That’s not the same as being happy. We’re not happy to
be here today! It’s better than that. It’s that because of Jesus, because of
His death and resurrection for us, because of His promises, because of His
forgiveness . . . we can rejoice even in the midst of sadness and separation. Because He conquered them. Because He is
greater than them. Because We Know that Our
Redeemer Lives (LSB #461).
And we’ll also do what
Paul says in another place (1 Thess
5:18), and give thanks. Thanks for Jesus and all that He
has done for Dad and for us. But also thanks to God for
giving us this man for so many years, as father, grandfather, and
great-grandfather; as uncle and friend; as His blessing to us.
So
thank you, Father, for this our earthly father, and friend.
For giving us a father who loved us, especially when that love showed itself as
a leather belt across my disobedient and rebellious
butt. For giving us a father who took us to church faithfully, who had us
baptized, and showed us the importance of faith and being in the Word. Who
showed us by devotions every night after dinner, lighting a candle and reading
the Scriptures.
Thank you, Father, for
giving us a father who showed us what love is as he took care of Mom in her
last days. For giving us a father who prayed - the image of that I will always
remember is of him sitting in his recliner in the morning, before work, before
the sun came up, with his Bible on his lap, his eye closed, and his hands
folded.
Thank you, Father, for
giving us a father who was a sinner and showed us how important your
forgiveness. For giving us a father who struggled, to help us
learn from him and giving us a chance to care for him and love him and
understand that when we are weak, you are strong (2
Cor 12:10). For
giving us a father who wasn’t afraid to cry, and who taught us the importance
of family.
But thank you most of
all, Father, that You put him in Your family. That You adopted William as Your son. That You baptized him,
redeemed him, forgave him, and at 2:17 am Monday morning, took him home to be
with You. And thank You for the confidence that we now
have in Your Word, not only that he is with You, but that we will be too, one
day. That the “nothing” that was so precious to him is also
for us. That it is true: Nothing can separate us from the love of
God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Nothing.
For Christ is risen! He is risen
indeed! Alleluia!
In the Name of the Father,
and of the (+) Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
To watch and listen to
the video of the service my brother made on his cell phone, go to:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUtFLF669ak&feature=youtu.be