3^rd Sunday after Pentecost, June 5, 2016

Luke 7:11-17 (13-15)  

¹³ When the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her and said to her, "Do not weep." 

¹⁴ Then He came and touched the open coffin, and those who carried him stood still. And He said, "Young man, I say to you, arise."  ¹⁵ So he who was dead sat up and began to speak. And He presented him to his mother. 

The crowd moved slowly.  It was a funeral procession, after all.  The semi-pro wailing women were there, who, instead of singing beautiful songs of comfort, cried and moaned at the top of their lungs, publicly expressing everyone’s grief over the deceased.  Local officials were there to express their condolences.  Everyone who knew him was there—though they may not have known him all that well or liked him that much.  His close friends and extended family were in attendance.  Then there were the pall-bearers who carried the bier of the lifeless man on their shoulders to the place where he would be buried. 

Why so many to honor the deceased?  One reason:  he was a young man, cut down in his prime, taken out of this world before everyone was ready to let him go.  His death was a shock to the whole town, but none more so than to his mother.  She was probably first in line in the funeral procession, following right behind the lifeless form of her son.  And Luke makes the point of telling us that he was her only son, and that she—she was a widow.  So this great crowd, this funeral procession, marched slowly onward, passing out of the city gate toward the cemetery.

Could you imagine the surprise when they saw another procession coming over the hilltop, right toward them?  Only this wasn’t a funeral procession; it had too much joy about it.  We see another great crowd of people—all following a man in his early thirties, dressed in the simple clothes of a rabbi, marching quickly onward toward the town gate.  The man’s name was Jesus.  

The scene might have been funny had the setting not been so serious:  a game of chicken between these two processions, one a procession of life led by Jesus; the other a procession of death led by the dead body of a young man.  Who would blink?  Who would stop and move aside first?   

Common courtesy dictates that you don’t stop a funeral procession.  Out of respect for the deceased and his family, you wait until the procession has passed before moving on.  You know how it makes your blood boil to see an impatient person interrupt a funeral procession.  But this man and his group of followers wouldn’t get out of the way!  In fact, Jesus does the exact opposite!  Instead of getting out of the way, He actually approaches the mother! 

That’s because to Jesus, this funeral procession was like a punch in the gut.  His heart went out to this poor mother.  Moved by her sorrow and grief, he had compassion on her and told her not to cry:  “Do not weep” (v. 13).    

Are those the words that you want to hear on the way to a burial?  Isn’t Jesus being horribly insensitive here?  Imagine the shocked, angry whispers that went around when Jesus said those words.  “Don’t weep?  Don’t cry?  What does He mean by that?!”  This woman had already lost her husband—but at least before now she still had her son to cherish, her son who would be able to take care of his poor mother.  But now her only son was ripped away from her too!  Her grief and anguish—to lose her only son?  It was indescribable!  And Jesus tells her not to cry?!  What business is it of His to tell this poor widow not to cry at her own son’s funeral?!

And yet we see that Jesus isn’t kidding.  Jesus walks over and touches the bier—the long piece of wood, kind of like an open coffin—on which the young man is being carried.  Those carrying the body sense the gravity in His touch, and they stop, along with the rest of the funeral procession.  Everyone’s stares of anger have turned to silent stares of wonder—what will He do?

With everyone’s eyes on Him, Jesus says the words in a voice loud and clear, “Young man, I say to you, arise!” (v. 14).  And the lifeless did something that lifeless people just don’t do:  “he who was dead sat up and began to speak” (v. 15). The young man was alive!  And He gave him back to his mother.  Jesus stopped the funeral procession and ended her mourning and weeping by turning death to life.

I.       Jesus Brings an End to Mourning and Weeping.

In this life, we have our funeral processions, our slow marches filled with mourning and weeping.  We lose loved ones—and when we lose loved ones, we cry.  We grieve.  We wail into our pillows in the dark.  Don’t we know that they’re in heaven?  Sure we do!  But in our weakness we cry anyway! 

In Jesus you have a God who perfectly understands your grief!  This is the same Jesus who stood outside the tomb of Lazarus, His friend, weeping, whose heart went out to this poor widowed mother.  His heart is moved by grace and love to end our mourning and weeping!  Filled with compassion, He wants to dry your tears!  He wants to comfort you and tell you not to weep, that everything’s going to be okay. 

And you can believe Jesus because He doesn’t just tell you it’s going to be okay—He’s the one who makes it okay!  By His great love and compassion Jesus takes away the reason for your tears in the first place!  In Jesus you and I have the promise for all our loved ones, that at the last day, “God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him” (1 Th. 4:14).  Jesus stops the funeral procession—and its grief and tears—forever!  Your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, your moms and dads, your brothers and sisters, your husband, your wife, your children, even your grandchildren—everyone you’ve mourned and wept for over the years—one day they all will hear the voice of Jesus calling them, saying, “I say to you, rise!”  And they will come forth from their graves and tombs and be restored to you once more—healthy, happy, alive, and even better than before because they’ll be raised in glory!  Because He lives, so do your loved ones!  You will see them again!  And here’s the even greater comfort:  that just as they live in Jesus, so do you!

II.     Jesus Brings Death Itself to an End. 

Let’s set the scene again.  Only this time, it’s your funeral procession.  You’re the dead person.  You’re the one being carried to the grave in a wooden box; you’re the one being cried over and mourned for.  And I’m not too far off from reality here.  Let’s face it:  it’s only a matter of time.  The body you have is mortal, corrupted from within and without.  We go through life carrying others to their graves until finally it is our turn.  No one’s immune because death is a consequence of sin:  “death came to all men because all sinned” (Ro. 5:12).     

You’re the dead person, and only one thing stands between your funeral procession and the death that lasts forever in hell:  and that is the God-man, Jesus Christ.  He stops your funeral procession.  Your body will still die, yes, that’s a consequence of sin, but what about your soul?  In Christ it goes to heaven!  And at the last day, Jesus the divine Judge in grace will touch your own coffin and say, “Rise!”  And it will be your own body that will come forth from the grave alive and filled with glory, never to die again!  It will be you who—together with all the dead—greet the shining glory of God the Son in life!  It will be you who is reunited with your loved ones!

And it’s all because of another game of chicken that took place on another hill outside the gate of another city:  a game of chicken between Jesus and death itself!  Who would flinch?  Who would get out of the way first?  Not Jesus!  At the cross He let Himself be swallowed up by death as the payment for all of your sins.  But don’t be fooled!  Death did not win!  Three days after the cross we saw the proof of Jesus’ victory over death when He appeared to His disciples, having risen to life and escaped from the stony walls that had entombed His body.  Death flinched—and was ultimately destroyed! 

And nothing has been the same since.  “For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:22).  Jesus stopped the slow march we all take, the funeral procession to hell!  He stopped it by bringing death itself to an end.  Jesus fundamentally changes our understanding of death.  Death is no longer the bad thing; in Christ, it’s the good thing!  By the power of His own death as the Son of God, Jesus grabbed the steely jaws of death and re-bent them into the pearly gates of heaven.  Death is no longer the end; it’s the beginning—the starting point of a life spent living in the glory of God Himself forever! 

And to think it was all borne of the same compassion, the same love, the same desire to help—the same grace—that Jesus showed this poor widow.  The grace to come to us and dry our tears; the grace to bring people from death to life. 

Let the news of Christ’s compassion and grace dry your tears as your loved ones are taken from you in this life.  Yes, go ahead and cry—but cry knowing that we do not grieve like the rest of the world, like people who have no hope, for we know that Jesus came to stop the funeral procession—and as the Lord of life and death He won! 

And I pray that this message doesn’t just dry your tears alone.  Let the news of Christ’s compassion—compassion that conquers death—go far and wide:  to our families, to our friends, to our neighbors, to any and all who need their tears dried.  “God has come to help His people.”  Amen.