I don’t believe there’s ever a “right” age for a son to lose his father, or even the right words to eulogize a man like my dad. But the first time I was ever asked to speak at a church, on this stage, in fact, my father was the one who broke the news to me. He sat me down in a bedroom and asked me, “Do you want the word on what is happening in heaven?” Here we are, eleven years later, and I think of all of us in this room, my dad is the one best equipped to tell us the word on what is happening in heaven right now. Unfortunately, of all of us in this room, he’s also the one with the fewest words to say.
While he was alive, though, my father was not short on words. He always had a story to tell, a joke to crack, a comment to make. But I believe that in the presence of his heavenly Father, my dad is simply echoing what the saints and angels have been proclaiming for generations: “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!” Perhaps in heaven, there will be space for more words. But perhaps standing before the Majestic Glory, as the Apostle Peter described the wonder of the transfigured Jesus, there will be no need for more words.
As finite creatures, we often lose perspective on the scale of eternity. But here’s how I see it. My father was present at my birth and remained my earthly father for just under nine thousand days. He was here for my birthdays, my celebrations, my joys, and my sadnesses. If you add another nine thousand days to the day he died, you get to May 2, 2046. I don’t suppose any of us know what we’ll be doing on May 2, 2046. It seems so far away. We may be laughing, we may be mourning. Some of us may have children, others of us grandchildren. We may be starting a new job or preparing to retire. But I’m certain I know what my dad will be doing on May 2, 2046. He will still be singing the songs of heaven without having scratched the surface of the goodness of his God.
But for us left on earth, what’s next? I think I may have an answer summed up in a single word. For a long time, my favorite word in the English language has been “resurrection.” If you asked me to condense the gospel into one word, that would be it. On the first page of Genesis, we humans were created in perfect life. On the second page, we had already brought death upon ourselves through sin. And the resolution to our failure is contained only in the new life that Jesus brings.
In the gospels, Jesus whispers hints throughout the story that resurrection was on the other side of the cross. But did any of the disciples realize it? No, they didn’t. In John 2, we’re told that it’s only after Jesus was resurrected that they remembered and believed His prophecy. So can you imagine what they were feeling when their Messiah was dead? Not that I would ever conflate my earthly father with my heavenly Savior, but when my dad died on a Friday, I think I understood a part of what the disciples felt two thousand years ago on the first Good Friday. On that Friday, Jesus died. And this past Friday, much like His followers, our family and those of us who loved my dad wept.
People sometimes say that Good Friday was the worst day in history. Having gone through my own Friday, I can’t help but think that maybe Saturday was just a little bit worse. For the disciples, it was the first full day in over three decades that the body of Jesus wasn’t breathing. The first day in thirty-three years that the world didn’t hear his heartbeat. The first day in recent memory that He wasn’t healing or teaching. There were no parables, no blind men healed, no promises for the future, no captives set free. Last week, Saturday was the first full day of my life that my dad was not alive. He wasn’t here for me to call in the morning. He wasn’t present to answer my questions. There are no words to explain that feeling.
The Saturday after Good Friday may have been the worst day in history but it was not the last day in history. Jesus stayed dead all through that Saturday. His body never stirred, never took a breath, never coughed. He never called out or uttered a word. He was dead on that Saturday. For more than 24 hours, God in the flesh had been silenced. The sun went down on Saturday night. The disciples went to sleep. The Pharisees went to sleep. The Romans went to sleep. The whole world went to sleep. And somewhere in the early hours of that Sunday morning, a dead body in a tomb began to breathe.
The triumph of that Sunday morning was greater than any victory the world had ever witnessed. The resurrection of Jesus altered the course of history in ways we’re still trying to understand today. He somehow brought death to death by passing through death and brought life eternal to us.
So, here we are again in the present. The promises of eternity are wonderful and they await us who acknowledge Jesus as Savior and Lord. But again, we are finite creatures, so let us look at what we have available today. The reality remains that my father died on a Friday and that on this Saturday, he will be buried. But our hope does not cease to exist on Saturday. Our hope is in a resurrected Savior. He refused to let His disciples be defined by that Saturday and He will not let us be defined by our Saturdays. Our hope charges forward, pulling us along because Sunday beckons us. That one word, “resurrection,” insists on invading our reality. It forces us to confront every aspect of our lives, every painful memory, even the deepest hurts of this moment, and join the battle cry of the Apostle Paul. Battered and beaten to within an inch of his life, chained, whipped, and tortured, he turned his gaze to the empty tomb of his Savior and asked, “Oh Death, where is your sting? Hades, where is your victory?”
The truth of Sunday does not erase the pain of Saturday. Rather, it encompasses it, triumphs over it, and redefines it. We still miss the man we knew as Cherian, Joe, Daddy. I still feel there never would have been the “right time” of my choosing to lose my father. I still don’t think I have the right words to eulogize him. But I think I can answer the question that my dad asked all those years ago. The word on what is happening in heaven…is resurrection.