Beth Lake
March 24, 2006
There are great moments in human life; moments when new chapters open up, new avenues are taken, and new experiences met. These rites of passage are important moments when we are all changed. Think about the changes that happen in our lives. Think of how we change from childhood into adolescence. Think of how we change from adolescence into adulthood. Think of the changes that occur with the coming of retirement.
These are all times that bring with them a certain sense of the unknown. We may have some vague idea of what waits, but really don’t know until we get there. The greatest rite of passage, the greatest change, the greatest unknown, comes at death.
Now, for those of us who are Christian, we find that the unknown of death is not that big of a deal because death has lost its fear. Death is not fearful because, through our faith, we have come to know what waits. We remember the Scripture in the fourteenth chapter of John, in which Jesus promises that he is preparing a place for all of us. When that place is prepared, he will receive us into our new home.
You know, people are not supposed to die when they are fifty-one years old. People are not supposed to die when they are in the midst of wonderful careers of teaching and reaching children. People are not supposed to die when they have great plans for their church. Friends shouldn’t have to bury friends. Siblings shouldn’t have to bury siblings. Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children.
Yet, it is death that brings us all here together today. We come here to witness to our faith, and to the faith of Beth Lake. We come here to praise God and proclaim the reality of resurrection. We come here to proclaim that death is not the final answer, death will not win, and death will not silence our witness.
Just a short time before our oldest son was born, my grandmother died. I left my very pregnant wife in Denver and flew back to Fort Wayne for the funeral. Dr. William Dean was, at that time, pastor of Memorial Baptist Church. To this day, I remember the sermon he preached at her funeral. In fact, I not only remember it, but I use it.
He was talking about the 23rd Psalm. He told us what a wonderful psalm it was and how it has provided so much comfort through the ages to countless generations of God’s people. It is a psalm of confidence and trust. It is a psalm of hope. It is a psalm of peace, love, gentleness, and security.
It is a psalm of David. King David knew trouble. He knew heartache. He knew trials and temptations. He knew fear. He knew the depths of his sins. But he also knew the Lord, his Shepherd. The Shepherd, the One who protected the sheep under his care, the One who could be trusted, the One who could be called upon in times of trouble, the One who would never forsake those who loved him.
Bill Dean told us about the most important word in the psalm. That word is through. ”Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” Death is just that…a valley through which we all must walk. We can’t escape it, run from it, or hide from it. We may try to deny its power, but that only lasts for so long. Death eventually catches up with all of us. Death is the price of life.
But death is different for those of us who have religious faith, because we know that the valley of death is not never-ending. We rest in the assurance that we will emerge from that valley into the light of God’s eternity. Those who place their faith and trust in God are never left alone, never.
I was in the hospital on Monday afternoon. The respirator had been turned off. The family was all gathered around Beth. I witnessed something very profound.
I have been in full-time Christian ministry for a lot of years now, but I have never been in the presence of someone at the moment of his or her death. My wife told me that she can’t believe that I have escaped that experience until now.
But we were all gathered there together around her bed when her breathing got progressively shallower and she slowly and peacefully slipped into God’s presence. Two weeks before this she had been fine. It was hard to believe that she had passed from our presence. But at that very intense moment, we witnessed her death and her rebirth at the same time, as she passed from her earthly life to life triumphant and immortal.
Now of course, everyone there would have preferred to be anywhere else in the world than at that bedside. Everyone there would rather have been doing anything else. We all would have given anything to have Beth recover her health and walk out of the hospital. That goes without saying. Of course we all wished that. Nevertheless, we witnessed something so very profound and awe-inspiring.
We all knew Beth’s faith. We all knew how much she loved her church. We all knew her heart. We knew that she knew her Savior. At the moment her breathing stopped, we all knew that, although her earthly life had ended, her heavenly and eternal life had just begun. She took a step, not into death, but into life. We grieved at that moment, and we grieve today, but not as a people without hope. We grieved and cried; yet through our tears, we proclaimed our faith in Christ our Savior. We knew that we had not lost Beth, but had only ushered her into a new relationship with God.
Our Christian testimony is that God loved the world so much that he sent his only Son that whoever believes in him will not perish, but will have everlasting life. That is our testimony and that was Beth’s testimony.
If I can get personal for a minute… There is now a huge whole in the world where Beth was. Her work here at the church and at the school is irreplaceable. Her sense of humor and good spirit will be so missed. Her passion was genuine. Her love was sincere. She had fun wherever she went.
I hesitated to tell this story because I wasn’t sure that it was appropriate. But Beth and I have laughed about it for a year and a half, so I decided to let you in on the joke.
Shortly after I came here as pastor, she was my liturgist one Sunday morning. Things were sort of hectic that day and I hadn’t had the chance to check with her to see if she was ready. We just came in and immediately walked down the aisle.
Now Beth was a hugger. She hugged me the first time she met me and kept on hugging me as long as she could. Everyone around here is a hugger. I have never been in a church where I have been hugged as many times as I have been here. It quickly became sort of second nature for me.
So, as is the habit for the liturgist and the pastor, we stopped in front of the altar for a minute of silence before taking our places. As we were standing there, I leaned over to whisper in her ear to ask her if she had any questions. Without thinking, I put my arm around her shoulder. There we were, in front of God and this entire congregation…and the new preacher puts his arm around a single woman in front of the altar! It just never occurred to me that this probably wasn’t the thing to do. Sometimes, I’m pretty slow about those sorts of things.
Well, you guessed it. There were some folks in the congregation who thought I probably had crossed a line that shouldn’t have been crossed. Beth, far from being offended, thought this was a great story. She had a great time with it…had fun at my expense… embarrassed the heck out of me.
The next Sunday morning, I was standing out in the narthex when she came in. She marched over to me and gave me a great big hug. I stood there with my arms out to my side saying that we shouldn’t be doing this, I can’t believe you’re doing this, what in the world are you doing, let go of me or we’re really going to be in trouble. All the while, I was standing there with my arms straight out, she was laughing and saying, “I am not going to let go until you hug me back.” I’m going to miss that sort of stuff.
Beth loved to laugh. She loved to have fun. She loved to make jokes. She loved other people. She loved her church. She loved the children with whom she worked at school. We are sure going to miss her.
All of us: family, friends, and colleagues, will miss her terribly. We will grieve for her. We will continue to have trouble believing that she is in fact gone from our physical presence.
But I encourage all of you today to remember that Beth lives on. She lives on in our hearts. She lives on in our thoughts. She lives on in our memories. And most importantly, she lives on in the presence of her Lord and Savior. That was her faith. That was her trust. That was her confidence. That was her witness.
So today, we commit her to God, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life. Thanks be to God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
