‘They Didn’t Know We Were Seeds’

My Dear Shepherds,

There is a motto popular among some activists: “They wanted to bury us, but they didn’t know we were seeds.” Christians can repurpose that slogan. It brings to mind Tertullian’s statement, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.”

I thought of that when I read of the death of Vitaly Vinogradov, dean of Kyiv Slavic Evangelical Seminary. He had been shot while trying to leave Bucha, Ukraine. I read, “His body lay on the street beside that of fellow believer and friend Oleg Grishchenko.” Seeds, both of them.

I’ve never officiated at the funeral of a martyr. Well, on second thought, I have. Every Christian funeral is a martyrion, for the Greek word means witness, testimony. Those whose funerals we officiate haven’t been murdered for their faith in Jesus Christ but, even so, their testimony of faith was never more eloquent than at their funeral.

Every Christian funeral is an off-season Easter service. We could certainly sing, “Made like him, like him we rise, Alleluia!” and “There ain’t no grave gonna hold my body down.” Such funerals disciple the saints in ways that no Sunday morning service can. In these services our unique calling as pastors is not only to shepherd the grieving but to remind the believers what it is to die well. A funeral can pry fingers off their death grip on the world. A thoughtful, Scripture-rich service can ease their apprehensions about mortality and even make them homesick. We are fulfilling Moses’ prayer, “Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

At the memorial service I led recently for an 88-year-old saint I said,

He has left his Bible behind for now he is with the one whose very name is the Word. He has left his faith behind for now he sees face-to-face. He no longer struggles to find words for the love of God for now he is embraced by the Lord’s very presence. He no longer feels the weight of his years, nor the perplexity of heartbreaking problems, nor the tears of this life, for he is home, safe and sound, where there is no more death or mourning or crying or pain.

At a funeral, we display those reminders the way a jeweler displays diamonds against black velvet to set off their beauty most vividly.

In the hands of good shepherds, Christian funerals are also evangelism. Death, with his scythe, shroud, and keys, looms over every casket, urn, and tombstone until we begin to read Scripture, sing the songs of Zion, pray with thanks, and preach of our certain hope in Christ. When Jesus comes the light breaks through and death is left empty-handed.

One time a woman from our church brought her non-Christian friend to me because she had been deeply shaken by a funeral she’d attended in an African-American church. The singing and joy she encountered there literally terrified her. She could not imagine how people could react that way to a death. Like the women at the end of Mark, she fled from the tomb trembling and bewildered. When I told her that Christians lose their fear of death because of our faith in Christ, she trusted him on the spot and went home rejoicing.

Only a few days before his own death, Jesus said,

Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. (John 12:24)

We are those seeds.

Be ye glad!

Pastor Lee

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