Nice Thoughts Won’t Raise The Dead — But Jesus Will

Text: Luke 7:11-17 

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

I don’t care how tough you are—Death is tougher. Death is indeed tough. Yes, there are times when Death can seem like a welcomed guest, ending the suffering of a loved one. However, I have yet to meet someone who finds Death pleasant or is unaffected by it.

You see, the Bible rightly speaks of Death as having a sting. Death stings our emotions, mind, and soul with pain. And when it stings, it topples our entire world, bringing fear, anger, tears, and uncertainty.

Perhaps one of the most difficult things you will go through in life is the death of a loved one—especially everything that follows. You know what I mean. The sting of Death is hard enough, but the journey to the grave is often just as painful—if not more. For some, that journey is like salt in the wound left by Death.

Given all this, we can certainly empathize with the widow in our Gospel reading from Luke. As a widow, she had already lost her husband to Death, and now Death had seized her only son, leaving her utterly alone in this life. We assume her son’s death was recent, as the dead were often buried the same day.

So here we find this grieving woman, traveling with a large crowd on the way to a tomb outside the city. What a difficult journey. We can only imagine the pain of each step as she walked toward the finality of Death’s sting—a tomb where her son’s body would be laid to decay.

Indeed, Death is difficult. It stings, and it hurts. And the journey to the grave hurts just as much.

* * *

With all of this in mind, I can tell you from observation that there are three common ways people respond to the sting of Death and the journey to the graveside.

First, there are those who avoid it altogether. I don’t say this to condemn anyone. The sting of Death is so severe that some people become overwhelmed and simply cannot bring themselves to attend funerals or visit the graveside. It’s just too much. The pain is too deep. The sting is too sharp.  And so, they avoid death at all costs.

Second, there are those who will tip their hat to Death—attending the funeral and going to the graveside—but will do everything they can to avoid the present reality of Death before them. Let me explain: these individuals will try to live in the past where their loved ones were alive and untouched by Death. And s, these funerals and graveside visits become a celebration of memories, accomplishments, and joys, rather than a confrontation with Death itself. Again, I don’t say this to condemn, but to show how painful Death is. It hurts so much that we try to escape to the past, where the sting wasn’t felt.  We celebrate the person’s past life where they were alive while avoiding the present reality of their death.  

Finally, there are those who attend the funeral and go to the graveside without avoiding the sting. They are fully present in the moment. But the sting of Death has worked them over, leaving them with deep fear, sorrow, and anguish. Personally, I hurt with these people the most. You see the pain in their eyes, you hear it in their voices, and witness it in their trembling. These are the ones who must be helped out of the pew, into the car, and to the graveside. They stare into the grave in silence, as if pierced by a thousand knives. Again, I don’t say this to condemn, but to show how deeply Death stings and how real the pain is.

Back to our Gospel reading from Luke: the widow would most likely fall into this third category. She cried aloud as she walked toward the tomb.

But what about you? How do you respond to the sting of Death? Do you avoid it altogether? Do you try to live in the past to escape the present pain? Or do you let Death have its way with you and bear the sting?

As one of your pastors, I must confess that many times I would prefer to be like those in the first category (avoid it altogether). But I can’t. It is my calling and duty to be present when Death strikes. So, I often find myself in the third category—stung by Death, angered by it, grieving over how it wounds the sheep. Yes, I get angry. And then, when no one is looking, I cry and curse at Death. To preserve some appearance of manhood, I grieve in secret. I rage. Because Death hurts. It stings. It is not easy.

And so, all of us are affected by Death in one way or another. And it shows—especially in how we act at funerals and in that solemn journey to the graveside. It feels as if there’s nothing we can do about Death’s sting.

But before despair sets in too deeply, we must remember that there is something Jesus has done about Death.

Consider that painful journey to the tomb in our Gospel reading. Death had stung. They were heading to the grave. But then, the funeral procession collided with Jesus. And Jesus, instead of joining the mourners, reached out His hand and stopped them. Then He did something astonishing—He spoke to a corpse. He spoke to dead ears. And Death had no choice but to listen. The widow’s son was released from Death, given life, sat up, and began to speak. Jesus said, “Get up!”—and the dead man did.

At a funeral many years ago at St. Paul’s, I hugged one of our parishioners and said, “I’m so sorry.” The sting of Death was deep. Then I added with tears in my eyes:

“This is where our theology becomes real. All of our doctrine and hymns come down to this moment, and right now, I can look you in the eyes and tell you with certainty that your loved one will rise again. You will see him again. Jesus will call him out of the grave. Jesus will not let Death get away with this.”

Dear Baptized Saints, we come to church, sing our hymns, and go through the liturgy—not because we believe in some fanciful myth. We’re not here to uphold a social club or hear moralistic stories to become better citizens. We are not here for political strategies or to uphold a denominational structure. No! If that’s all this was, we should close the doors and go home, for there are better places to do those things other than a church.

Please straighten up and listen: we are here because Jesus—the God-Man—has power over Death’s sting. We believe with every fiber of our being the bold truth that Jesus not only rose from the dead, but He will one day call us out of our graves: “Get up!” And we will. We will get up.

So, when you’re tempted to avoid funerals, or to retreat into the past, or when you’re so devastated by Death that you can barely function—you don’t need to be told to toughen up or “suck it up, cupcake.” No, what you need is the bold, staggering, radical, and powerful news that Jesus does not let Death have the last word. 

Baptized Saints, Jesus will meet every Christian at the grave. He will meet you at yours. And one day—soon—He will speak the final word: “Get up!” And your dead ears will hear. And you will rise, with a new body, never to die again. You will see your loved ones face-to-face; you will find each other at the resurrection.  

And that news—Jesus' victory over Death—is what allows us to grieve with hope. It is what enables us to stare into the darkness of Death’s grave and, with tears and trembling, proclaim, “Hear this, O Death: Jesus is victorious!”

In fact, dear Baptized Saints, I have said this before, we ought to think of funerals as acts of protest—a holy riot against the tyranny of Death. We ought to clench our fists and join St. Paul in taunting:

“O Death, where is your victory? O Death, where is your sting?”

* * *

Baptized Saints, Jesus met Death that day outside the city of Nain and raised the widow’s son from the grave. And this same Jesus will meet you—and your baptized loved ones—at the grave and do the impossible – He will raise you.

Take comfort in Jesus’ words, Baptized Saints: “Get up!” Yes, we surely will. And Death will not be able to do a thing about it.

In the name of Jesus. Amen.