I knew Shirley for almost 9 years. I was her pastor and she was a home-bound member of my congregation. I visited her on a somewhat regular basis. We would talk about goings on at church so Shirley would be up on the latest news of her church home and the people there that she knew and loved. With each passing visit she would reveal more and more of herself and her family. We would always end our visits on a worshipful note as I would have a devotion with her and we would pray for her and whatever her needs were. I would then give her Communion. Shirley would always have an envelope containing all of the CD’s of the worship services that had been mailed to her since my last visit. She wanted to make sure they were recycled. She loved to have those. The CD’s and my visits helped keep her connected to our congregation; they helped immensely in making her feel a part of the church, the communion of saints.
I say I knew Shirley for almost 9 years because she was recently called home to glory by our heavenly Father. I went to the visitation at the funeral home early to meet and visit with the family before the crowds would gather later in the day. Shirley’s daughter and I gathered by the casket to talk about Shirley, her late husband, and the service at the church the next day. I didn’t say anything at the time, but if it hadn’t been for the sign directing me to the room in which Shirley’s body was located, and if it hadn’t been for her family being in the room at the same time, I would never have recognized the body in the casket as Shirley!
All of my visits with Shirley over the years were the same—she always had on a plain house dress and would be sitting in her chair in the living room, right by the front door. Shirley’s hair was always just brushed to the side and she never had her dentures in her mouth. But when I saw her in the casket, her hair had been cut at the funeral home and very nicely styled. She was dressed in a very pretty pink laced outfit. And most important of all, her dentures were in! Her face looked nice and full—she looked great!
As I thought about the stunning difference between seeing her at home and now at visitation I knew I needed to change my sermon text and direction immediately. I had to preach on I Corinthians 15:35-44:
35But someone will ask, "How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?" 36You foolish person! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. 37And what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. 38But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body. 39For not all flesh is the same, but there is one kind for humans, another for animals, another for birds, and another for fish. 40There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is of one kind, and the glory of the earthly is of another. 41There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for star differs from star in glory.
42 So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. 43It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. 44It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body.
To me these words of the apostle, Paul are a beautiful way to explain the resurrection and to encourage and comfort those of us left behind when our beloved family members and friends are taken to be with our Lord in glory.
Death and burial is just like planting a garden, whether of flowers or vegetables. I grew up in Iowa and for 8 years pastored a congregation in the middle of corn and bean fields. A tiny little dried seed about the size of my nail on my pinkie finger, along with millions of other seeds just like it, would be planted in the fields in the spring—all in nice neat, evenly spaced little rows. Bare fields would slowly turn green as the corn would germinate and begin pushing the shoots of their stalks above the ground. As the corn would push higher and higher toward the sky, leaves would begin to branch out. Fields which once were bare and brown were now lush green. The corn would dance back and forth as the wind would blow over this ocean of corn. The corn would grow to six feet as tassels topped off the plant and ears of corn began to grow between the leaves.
It was quite the transformation. But what was planted wasn’t what was harvested. From a small seed to a giant plant. That was what I noticed with Shirley at her visitation. From plain dress and appearance to one of being beautifully styled and coiffed. We affectionately call it, “cleaning up good”. But as I said in her funeral sermon, that transformation pales in comparison to the transformation that will take place at the resurrection of all flesh on that great and glorious day when Jesus comes to take us to be with him forever and ever. We were gathering to lay her body to rest in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection; to “plant” it in the hope that what we sow will not be what is harvested. As Paul said to the Corinthians, our bodies came into this world perishable (mortal), weak (sinful), and dishonored (bearing and enduring the consequences of sin). But he also wrote that our bodies would be raised imperishable (immortal, never to taste death again), and in power and glory (utterly devoid of sin and its effects). He went on to conclude that we were “sown”, “planted”, buried a natural body (of the world) but we would be raised a spiritual body (of heaven, fully and completely in the image of God—holy, righteous, and perfect as our heavenly Father). All because Jesus died on the cross to make payment for our sin and win for us the victory over sin, death, and the devil.
Once we plant, we wait with eager expectation for flowers to bloom so their beauty can grace our yards and tables; just the same we wait with great anticipation of the taste of fresh vegetables on our table. The difference between what we plant and what we harvest is like night and day. The difference makes the wait worth waiting for. And so it is with death and resurrection. What our loved ones will one day be lessens the sting of death that we feel and encourages and empowers us to continue living on with the expectation and anticipation of our great reunion in heaven.
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