This sermon was preached for the funeral of Mark G., on Saturday, March 23, 2024. The texts for this sermon were: Isaiah 25:6-9, 2 Corinthians 4:7-11, 16, and John 6:37-40.
Jesus said, “And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day.” I want to back up a moment to when and to whom Jesus says these words in the Gospel of John.
At this point in the story of Jesus, Jesus has just fed five thousand hungry people with just a few loaves of bread and a couple fishes. Understandably, the crowds go off in search of him the very next day. When they find him, Jesus observes that they have come looking for him to fill their bellies once more. “Do not work for food that spoils,” Jesus warns. “But for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you…I am the bread of life.”
Mark Gurney loved to cook, loved to grow fresh vegetables and share them generously. By the time I met Mark, though, Mark’s cancer had progressed enough that he was unable to eat much of anything. So the man I met and the man I’ve gotten to know through his parents’ stories, was someone who was nourished instead by other, more lasting bread, food that doesn’t spoil: by the dear companionship of his parents, by his communities of crafters and farmer market sellers, and by his own inner nature that never diminished, even as that outer nature of his body was failing him. Mark’s inner nature - the essential kindness, generosity, and creativity that shone through to each person he met - that’s what we remember and celebrate about him today. What I hope we will continue to hold in our hearts as we think of him.
When someone dies this young, just 57 years old, when parents must bury a son or daughter, we find ourselves not only mourning Mark and Mark’s absence from our lives. We are also grieving the years of life that could have been, should have been. A death like this, so young, so sudden - seems such a waste - a waste of a good and kind person and the life he had yet to live.
Jesus said, “And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day.”
Jesus’ promise here is that in God, nothing is wasted, nothing is lost, and nothing spoils. God can take the manure of life and make it compost for a beautiful garden; God can take a vile death, his own death on the cross, and make it our gateway to eternal life. In God’s hands, nothing about Mark, who he was and what he meant to us, will be wasted. In God’s hands, Mark’s kindness and generosity will be folded into each of us and to be carried on to everyone we meet. In God’s hands, Mark’s body will be raised up, whole and healthy, on the last day. The unlived life we longed for for Mark, the unfinished crafts and unused craft supplies, the unsaid words, the unharvested fruits of his garden, his unworn clothes, they belong to us now, things to keep or give away or give back to God. And all that intangible stuff of faith, hope, and love - the nourishing bread of life that never spoils - we can trust God to take up into himself until that last day.
One of my favorite quotes about grief is by the author Jamie Anderson. She writes, “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.” For us, though, the unspent love has a place to go - back to God, back out onto each other - onto Mark’s parents and brothers and community and beyond. Bob and Gail will need us in the coming days and weeks and years. They’d need us to receive their unspent love and they’ll need us to give our love to them, too. That love can look like all sorts of things: sharing memories, baked goods, listening to stories, being present, sending cards - oh, and prayer. Lots of prayer.
When Mark’s mother and I first started talking about Mark’s funeral, she asked about whether it would be okay to set up a table to give away the beautiful necklaces, earrings, and other crafts Mark had been working on when he died. She knew better than anyone that he would not want them to go to waste. But more than that, Gail knew that giving the creations away was what Mark would have wanted - that’s just the kind of person he was. Mark took seeds and a backyard and turned it into a garden, he took wire and stones and turned them into beautiful adornments, took pens and pencils and imagination and created cartoon characters with whole personalities, took various ingredients and cooked them into dishes and feasts for everyone he knew.
God, too, can take these ashes, can take these tears and this love and make something beautiful and holy. All that Mark is and was and will be will not go to waste.
Jesus said, “And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day.”
Nothing is lost or will be lost. We often say things like, “We lost Mark,” but the ultimate truth of our faith is that Mark is not lost. We know exactly where he is and where he will be when we see him again. Finally enjoying that feast of rich food that the Prophet Isaiah promises for all people, sitting at the abundant table set before him by God, his cup overflowing.
Mark is not lost. Not to us. Until we meet again, Mark is held in the palm of God’s hand.
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