Funeral Sermon For The Loss Of A Young Child: "the Smallest Life, A Miracle" Series

Words alone cannot comfort a grieving heart, because words cannot replace the ones we love. Even the most beautiful words are little things, here for only a moment, fleeting and often unnoticed. We live in a world filled with words, some shouted from rooftops and some whispered in a quiet room, yet most of the words ever uttered never reach our ears. If we are not careful, words – like people – may form little more than the backdrop to our own lives, so that we miss the worlds of wonder and beauty which they hold, even if they only hold it for a little while. Yet words are also powerful. Words can harm or they can heal. They can twist or they can reveal. They can build up or they can tear down. Words bring to mind what is and what can be. They grab our attention and by them we call to memory the ones we love. They bring into being what before was only a thought, an inkling, a possibility. The simplest word spoken at the right time, to the right person can change our entire perspective – our entire trajectory, bringing new meaning and new possibilities to life.

Human beings are a lot like words. Seemingly fragile and lasting only for a moment. We struggle, we suffer, we grope for meaning. And yet, no life is an accident. Every life is a miracle. Full of intention, and hope, and struggle, even the smallest life brings new meaning, new beauty, and new possibility into our world.

In the passage we read a moment ago, the Psalmist proclaims with a sense of awe,

“For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.”(1)

And yet, the song he sings isn’t only one of praise. When we read these words in their full context, we see that he is crying out to God for justice. Wounded by a broken and hurting world, he cries out to God in his frailty because he has nowhere else to go. And yet even in the midst of his pain, he sees a hidden beauty, a deep mystery in the wonder of creation most fully realized in the miracle which takes place in a mother’s womb.

As he writes in vv. 15-16,

“My frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in the secret place,

when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;

all the days ordained for me were written in your book

before one of them came to be,”

In a world filled with brokenness and uncertainty about the future, the Psalmist finds a sense of comfort in knowing he was made with a purpose, even if knowing the full extent of that purpose “is too wonderful, too lofty for [him] to attain.”(2) Though we are faced with the harsh truth that life is fleeting and frail – a truth often repeated in the pages of Scripture – we likewise can take comfort in knowing that every life has been knit together with intention, purpose, and love. Each moment we are given is precious, not only because we do not know how many moments we will have, but because each moment is an opportunity to experience the inherent beauty of Creation, and to pour love into the lives of those around us, in a way that no one else can.

In the creation, we see a reflection of the Creator and [_________] was and is no exception to this. Spoken into being by the same Word which spoke light into being, formed from the same fiery love as that which made the stars in heaven, to two loving parents who fought so hard for her, she tenaciously struggled for each breath she took. Every hard-won heartbeat a delicate note in a grand symphony which wouldn’t be complete without her. And though she was with us for only a moment, her life was full of meaning because it was born out of love.

An unconquerable, enduring love over which death holds no sway and through which death is conquered. A love which we are now called to carry in all we do, as a memorial to her. A love which speaks an impossible hope to us, that the One who formed [_________] and breathed life into [her/him] will one day wipe away every tear. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things will have passed away.(3) In that moment, the grand symphony of love, of which we now hear only a small part, will be played in its totality and by its healing notes of grace we will finally understand.

FOOTNOTES

(1) Psa. 139:7-18 (NIV).

(2) v. 6.

(3) cf. Rev. 21:1-5.

First delivered June 23, 2023 at Ertel's Funeral Home in Cortez, Colorado.