Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Sermon for the Funeral of Betty Bitzel

Preached at Grace on July 29, 2017
Preaching texts: None


Unlike Betty, I am not a lifelong York county resident. I grew up in the mountains of West Virginia and only moved here about 5 years ago. But one of the things we mountain folk like to do is find ways in which we’re interconnected with one another. Oh, you like that music. So do I. You know so-and-so? How cool. Me too.

As Sharon and I were talking on the phone Thursday night about her mother and her life, I had to chuckle inside. Because, as we were talking, I came to realize that Betty and I had a lot in common. We were both fanatical dog lovers; Betty even took her dog Bebe into the home with her after she sold her place on Canal St. Dogs show us that sort of loyalty; it’s nice to hear of someone who returned the favor.

Each week, I gather with friends to play games. Betty, her husband Roger, and all his union buddies would gather together frequently to play cards. I didn’t catch if they had a favorite game… But I’m sure those were good times.

I also know Betty was very dedicated to this congregation. She grew up here at Grace, raised her children here at Grace, worshiped her Lord here at Grace. Having been here these past 9 months now, I understand where that loyalty comes from. There is something special here.

Every one of us is a unique creation. We are created unique from the substance of our parents with God’s guiding hand. The circumstances, events, and experiences of our lives are all unique and yet put two people in a room together and, with a little bit of time, they will find something they share together. We are unique and yet we are all the same.

We all desire a good and decent life, not merely for ourselves, but also for those that we love. We want a good job (Betty had several of those), a loving spouse (almost 50 years with Roger), as little hardship as possible. We want our children to grow up strong and self-sufficient (the evidence of that is here before us today.) We want to know our lives mattered.

We are a bundle of emotions right now. Betty, our mother, our friend, has died. What does that mean? How are we supposed to feel? Those are questions that come into our hearts often without words. We feel sorrow, anger, confusion. We can feel relief that she is free of her Alzheimers. We can feel guilty because we feel relief. We feel trepidation and fear. Is she okay? With mother gone, I am rapidly becoming the eldest generation. My time is short. What happens to me when this moment comes?

No matter how vigorous our faith, moments like these can shake us to the very core.

But I know that Betty and I have something else in common. And it’s something that you also share with her, beyond all other ties of fellowship and blood. Betty was loved intensely passionately by her savior, Jesus Christ. In fact, Jesus loved her so much that he went to a cross and died upon it so they could be together in eternity. He rose from the dead on the third day so that death would have no true hold upon her. He did all this for her…and for you and for me.

One of my favorite authors, Brennan Manning, often said that “God loves us so much that he’d rather die than be without us.” In Jesus, we see how true that is. That’s how much Betty means to our Lord and how much you and I do. This is the whole Christian story. This is what it’s all about. It’s what drew Betty time and again back to this place to hear it anew. Of how God so loved the world (and her), that he gave his only Son to save them.

My friends, none of that has changed in this moment of grief. God remains steadfast. He loves Betty; He has saved Betty. God loves you; He will save you. It’s really that simple. This grief is but temporary. This parting brief. The day will come when God will fulfill his promise of salvation to you and I just as he has with her. And she will be there waiting for us, with Roger and Bebe at her side and probably with a pack of cards in her hand, ready to deal you in.

That is God’s gift to us. Remember it. Hold fast to it. I will not say do not cry, because I know this hurts. But we need not cry forever. We will see her again, thanks to the one in whom she put her truth her whole life long: Jesus Christ. Amen.



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