Celebration of Life

When someone dies, we will typically have a funeral. Or a memorial service. Or a celebration of life. They're all basically the same, but you can see, by their terms, the differences. A funeral is "goodbye." A memorial is "remember." And a celebration is "yippee!" Except ... we don't often actually celebrate the death of a loved one, do we? We just attended a Celebration of Life service for a man who passed away. I've checked with his wife for a few weeks: "How are you doing?" She has always answered, "As good as I can." Which is not "good," but "just trying." Because even in a Celebration of Life we're mourning. Why? Well, obviously, for unbelievers, they "have no hope" (1 Thess 4:13). Sadness is appropriate. But what about believers?

Believers still mourn the loss of a loved one. Why? Sometimes because the loved one wasn't saved. Very sad. But what if they were saved? Well, we're still sad because, well, it's our loss. We'll acknowledge that they're "in a better place," but ... we're not. They're not with us. Okay, I get that. But ... isn't that simple ... selfishness? Look, Scripture says love "does not seek its own" (1 Cor 13:5). Or, to put it another way, love is not selfish. Love isn't primarily concerned with "me." It's about "you." If I love someone biblically, it only seems like I'd want to rejoice in their joy, not wallow in my losses.

Well, of course, we're all imperfect and we're all concerned about "self" to some degree, so we'll all suffer sadness at the loss of a loved one. I'm not complaining about that. But if it is a long-term, life-altering sadness, I suspect it's not love we're talking about; it's selfishness. When Paul wrote that husbands were to love their wives, he described it "as Christ loved the church" and gave self up (Eph 5:25). Genuine love is fundamentally not about me. And if a believer loses a loved one who was a believer, it seems to me, after the initial shock, the feeling would be joy. Celebration. There's a poem that says,

If tears could build a stairway
And memories a lane,
I'd walk right up to Heaven
And bring you home again.

Let me just say that if I die and go to Heaven, please ... please ... don't do that. Don't drag me back to this temporary home away from my forever home with Jesus. Because, remember, Jesus said, "If anyone comes to Me, and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be My disciple" (Luke 14:26). We (rightly) understand that doesn't mean to actually "hate," but to "love less", and every genuine believer will absolutely love less his or her own family in comparison to Christ. Can't we celebrate their home-going for them without complaining about our temporary losses? At least, I would hope that when my beloved wife dies, I will rejoice in her great, permanent blessing and minimize my minor, temporary loss.