Today, I saw a man worship at his wife’s funeral.

Today, I watched, in awe, as this man was the first to stand, arms high, hands open to the Holy Spirit.  

How does a man stand and worship God when his wife has died?  

Or is the real question: would I be strong enough to stand and worship in my own time of grief?

From my seat in the back, I watched him stand.  Around him, others stood, and then, we were all standing.  Some with hands raised, some with hands in pockets.  The music moving and powerful, the pictures on the screen.  

This was only the beginning of what was to be a powerful celebration, but more than that, what turned out to be a true lesson of what God can do when faith, hope and love abide.  

It was all about the love.

I mean, the faith was obvious.  Though I didn’t know her well, I felt like I knew her today, almost instantly, and even felt disappointment for having missed out on this wonderful human being in my own life.   Our brief meetings at Christmas parties and work functions could not do justice to the woman that she truly was, but the testimony given today certainly did.  She loved God; this true and simple fact was felt from the moment we entered the church.  The minister spoke of her passion for spreading God’s word.   I heard whispers of how she shared her faith with others.  

Hope?  I think it must have been years of hope.  Hope for her recovery, hope for good days, hope for a cure.  Hope that I cannot even begin to imagine, I’m sure.  This family and their extended family and friends had hope beyond hope, and that, too, hung like a beautiful canopy over today’s service.  A message from today was that hope and faith are not wasted when are prayers are not answered the way we wish— other things with grow from the hope and faith that have been put forth so diligently.

And the LOVE.  The minister spoke of  faith, hope and love as “the three mighty men,” and I will now always picture them as such.  Love for family, love for others, love of God, eternal love . . . all kinds of love radiated from this family today.  And if I, a back-of-the-church attendee could feel it, I can’t even imagine what the family was feeling.  Love all over the place, I hope.

The prayers were powerful, the shared stories personal and telling.  My husband would later state that it was the most uplifting service for the saddest occasion.  My husband, bent in prayer next to me, was an unexpectedly moving sight.  I was sitting with the work crowd, two pews of men in sharp suits, and me.  I was aware of his humbled position, certain that he was thinking of his friend's loss, his own life.  He is a man of perspective.  His clasped hands were praying hands. 

The minister articulated asking God to guide those present in intersecting two kinds of prayer:  celebrating the life (she has won her race!  she has gone home!) and healing grieving hearts at the same time.  I have always wondered about how to pray at these difficult moments.  I was grateful for his explanation.   He spoke of some possible physical attributes of Heaven, and as I was wanting more and more of the beautiful descriptions, I thought—how wonderful that the three young children will have these words to hold on to in their moments of doubt.

The music was something I won’t soon forget, and I will never hear the expression “praise music” without thinking of today.  For that’s what it really, truly  was.  And even if it didn’t fall into that exact category, that’s how it felt.   Praise.  Music.  It was music at its best, reaching out to touch and stir the hearts of those present.  Music with meaningful words, offering time for reflection, chosen for a reason.  

The last song was chosen by his wife to be played on this day.   I have been thinking all day that everyone present heard the words that she wanted us to hear, loud and clear.   A song with lyrics about imagining what it would be like to one day see Jesus’ face.  What she could once only imagine — what it would be like to walk by the side of the Lord— now she knows.

And I think that’s how her husband could stand in worship today.  The grief is real and true, but faith, hope and love abide.  And while she walks with the Lord, he stands with three mighty men.

Thank you, God, for allowing me to be present today at this celebration of life.  I was moved by the worship today in unexpected ways, and I am humbled by the strength I have witnessed around me.   As I continue to pray for the family, I ask that you work through me so that I may help others, which was the prayer of the family today.  Amen.