Funerals and Friends

Funerals Cannot Be Where We Realize We Are Absent “Friends”

Last week, as my wife and I were relaxing the evening before I was to leave for the weekend, my wife exclaimed that someone we both know well had passed away just a couple of days prior. While somewhat expected, given the person’s age and health issues, it still hit hard. Very hard. As she read through the obituary, it was on Sunday that the viewing would be held. I wanted so very badly to attend. 

My mourning of the loss of a dear saint was abruptly cut short. Flights out to California, including delays, to see family, meet new friends, and, quite literally, help make the new family as I officiated the wedding of one of my younger brothers. It was a beautiful and momentous occasion. But, then, early Sunday morning, I began the journey home. I was hoping and praying that my flights would not be delayed. And, praise be to God, they weren’t. We actually landed early. 

So, I arrived back home shortly before 4:00 pm, spent some time with my kiddos and wife, then promptly changed clothing and went to the viewing. 

I arrived in the small town where the funeral home was located just before the viewing was supposed to begin, but the line was moving, and was at least seventy-five deep outside of the building, with many more in line on the inside. And it was there that I had a heart-wrenching realization. As the line progressed and I made my way into the building, various friends and acquaintances spoke with me, and I with them, and we did some catching up. Then, when I saw the deceased’s spouse, I broke into a steady stream of silent tears that brought on the conviction of this thought: I have been an absent friend. A horribly absent friend. 

Yes, I am no longer their pastor, but they were, they are, my friends. Not only my friends but, according to Scripture, my neighbors. My family. My brothers and sisters in Christ. I think of them, and I pray for them, but I have not been there for them. I was ashamed. Loving words from friends of old cut deep this past Sunday evening. Words that I needed to hear. Words that hurt, but at the same time, brought me to my knees later that night. 

I have not been able to shake the feeling nor forget the thoughts that have occupied my mind about this in the past thirty or so hours since the viewing. So, here is my charge, dear brothers and sisters in the Lord: Don’t be an absent friend. Don’t be the neighbor who never says hi. Don’t be the loved one that only “loves” once in a blue moon. Don’t be the person who waits for your friends, family, neighbors, or church family (or others) to come over. Don’t be absent, be present. Be a present to them, in the Lord, and love them and encourage them. Put down your phone and ignore the notifications that will ding and vibrate you into an early grave of friendship and go visit someone face-to-face. Have a spoke conversation. Listen. Laugh. Cry. Pray. Love. In-person. 

Don’t let a funeral be where you realize that you were an absent friend.

Jesus once told His disciples, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12). There is so much one can draw from this verse, but one point of application here is in reference to Jesus Himself: He was with His friends, His disciples, constantly. He spent time with them, listened to them, rebuked them, ate with them, hungered with them, and that doesn’t even come close to being a good representation of Jesus the present friend. In this light, like so many others, we need to be more like Jesus. 

So, who are you going to visit this week? Today?