Funeral of Ruth Esther Hall (4 October 2019)

+ In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti + Amen.

Text: John 11:25ff
Theme: The Divine Call

Dear family, friends and loved ones of Ruth; Heather, her mother, Mackenzie and Scarlett, her children, and especially you, Paul, her husband,

Where to start? Who has the right to speak to these people, on this topic, at this time; to this mother, to these children, to that husband, to this family? Opinions will vary. Some contenders have more credibility than others. Only One is peerless. He says, “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive forever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.”1

Well, “We brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.”2 The sage advice of the Scriptures is to exhaust all of our efforts and energies in the love of others, to go all in, leave it all on the field, don’t hold back, give it all you have. That’s what Ruth did, that’s what she believed, that’s who she was. She wasn’t a spectator, she wasn’t a bystander, she certainly wasn’t a quitter. And she wasn’t apathetic about the who and the how and the why- those details that actually give life meaning. She had her opinions and she wasn’t afraid to voice them.

Did Ruth have regrets? Of course, no one’s life progresses flawlessly. To err is human. To think that we are faultless in our motives, measures and movements is sheer arrogance or complete denial. But any regrets Ruth may have had were certainly not caused by indecisiveness of action or lack of initiative. Ruth didn’t sit around waiting for life to happen. She could be pretty high-octane. She was full of vitality, life, love and happiness.

Death can be stunning in its brutality and the grief that ensues absolutely incapacitating. It takes no prisoners and makes no concessions. With cold-blooded ruthlessness it eviscerates all who cross its path. There is no sense in, and really no way to, minimize or dismiss it. Vociferous efforts at placing blame might achieve some level of cathartic release but they won’t alter reality or compensate for death’s toll. You can scream at God, curse, swear, shout Him down. You can revile His name and desecrate His decrees in protest, complaint, or disgust. The Psalms of the Bible are full of raw expressions of emotion. The most significant was this one, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”3 It was uttered by the One who was abandoned at the cross. There was a reason for that, an exceedingly important reason.

Jesus Christ, the Architect of the universe and Redeemer of humanity stood at the grave of a dear friend named Lazarus and He wept. He shed tears that were weighted with more than human sympathy. He knew the power of death, its devastation and its sadness. You see, lies repeatedly told still remain lies. Lies confidently told still remain lies. Lies cheerfully told still remain lies. Human autonomy is a lie. We have no power of self-definition or self-preservation. These are lies. We are not sovereigns. Apparent success might be achieved in conditioning, brainwashing or anesthetizing but in the moment of revelation the truth will be vindicated.

We must at least consider the possibility that God’s omniscience is superior to our myopathy. God sees all, His gaze pierces time and eternity. Our vision is confined to the limited scope of our temporal experience. The Holy Spirit can lead us from possibility to probability and then onto conviction. To believe in God at all is to recognize that we, you, me, all of us collectively, are not God. It is one step towards acknowledging our mortality.

Don’t think for a moment acknowledgment of mortality is a path we stroll down easily though. We have inbuilt denial mechanisms and they are powerful. Cognitively we accept that someone could get struck by lightning, and someone could get run over by a bus, but that’s a far cry from believing that would actually happen to us. When someone we know suddenly drops dead of a heart attack, is taken down by motor neuron disease, or snatched away by cancer’s complications our mindfulness of mortality is likely to be piqued considerably. The question is, where do we go with that? Does it lead to a reality check? Do we seek reconciliation with God or retreat to our own maneuverings?

The point is not to be morbid, macabre, or fixated with death, but to authentically consider the only viable resolution. The answer is not what, but Who. Christ is the only one who has been there- all the way there- and back. The crucifixion was the implosion of death’s power. With sin atoned for death lost its source. The pathology became obsolete. The resurrection was the triumph of life. Death for the believer becomes a transition to an unimaginably vibrant existence.

Ruth was baptized. It seems like such a small thing. But it comes with a mighty promise. It conveys all the blessings of the gospel- the unconditional love, forgiveness, and favour of God. Set aside any ideas that Ruth was more worthy of the gospel than the rest of us. She wasn’t. By definition the gospel is the Good News, the incomparable news, of God’s free and undeserved mercy in Christ. But Ruth was no less an object of His grace either. The cross was raised for her and she will follow His steps through the open grave into the Easter light just as Job confesses, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see Him with my own eyes.”4


Who can judge the relativity of grief? Is Heather’s grief, the grief of a mother losing a child greater than that of Mackenzie and Scarlett, children who have lost a mother? And what about Paul? Who will speak words of comfort that are more than thinly coated clichés, regardless of how genuine the intent? What gestures of support can compensate their loss? The memories, oh the memories of love, and laughter, sorrow and trauma! They will be vivid, captivating haunting, and comforting. But they are hollow substitutes for the real Ruth, the flesh and blood Ruth full of vigor and vitality. God alone must give the peace that human authority cannot give. We cannot give what we don’t possess. The Holy Spirit travels the road of grief. He lights the path.

Life is exceedingly precious. It is fragile. It is uncertain. It’s not guaranteed. Indemnity against its loss is not attainable. No price can purchase it. If an important relationship in your life is not reconciled, don’t wait, do what is in your power to resolve it. Life is short. This temporal life is a present gift but not a future promise. Cherish it. Value it. Relish it. Revere it. Celebrate it. In the caustic bitterness of our grief we can also celebrate Ruth’s life. We can do that genuinely and joyously. And we will!

Life will prevail because Christ has conquered. All who believe in Him will share His immortal life. He said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in Me will live, even though he dies.”5 Ruth would not have wanted us to mope around as if our lives were permanently bereft of meaning. Grief will have its say, but it’s not the final word. Ruth would have wanted others to remember her by engaging life in all of its adversities and prosperities, by living it to the full.

Imagine the skepticism, the anticipation, and the tension when Jesus stood outside the grave of Lazarus and uttered these words, “Lazarus, come out!”6 How would this end? At the divine command he crossed back over the threshold going the ‘wrong way’ from eternity back into time. But it was a pledge and preview of greater things to come. Ruth Hall has crossed the threshold into the Paradise that defies description. She has gone the right way. The temporal end is the eternal beginning. May the abundant mercy of God sustain us in our grief and our in our celebration. Amen.

+ In nomine Jesu +

Funeral of Ruth Esther Hall
4 October 2019
Reverend Darrin L. Kohrt

1 Revelation 1:17-18 2 1 Timothy 6:7
3 Psalm 22:1 4 Job 19:25-27
5 John 11:25 6 John 11:43