3 minute read
Find Your Rest
Find Your Rest
by Rev. Gaven M. Mize
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There is only one silence that that calls out to people. Here and there you might hear the shuffling of feet. The blowing of a nose, a quick exhale, a desperation that feels the room when the pews creak and the wooden floor squeaks out a reminder that the room isn’t empty after all. Yet, in between those moments there is a deafening silence. It’s a silence that calls out to you, making you realize that the one you love who lies in the casket before you will not speak your name again. This silence calls to us all. Momento mori—Latin for “Remember, you too, will die.”
As that silence, and the tormenting thought that you will one day be in that casket begins to take hold of you, you hear a voice singing softly as it caresses away your anxiety and fears:
Safe. Loved. Shielded. All these truths fill your ears reminding you that you are a child of God. Thanks be to God, so is the one who lies in the casket. You are reminded of the truth that though your loved one is dead, he lives. And then again your ears perk up to:
As a pastor I sing “Now Rest Beneath Night’s Shadow” (by Paul Gerhardt) before every funeral. I sing it from the back of the nave. I begin the song very softly and try my best to weave in and out between the sadness and gladness of all who are attending. As I approach the end of the hymn I pick up my voice and sing triumphantly for the hearers to know that, while what is about to happen is going to hurt and while they don’t want to say “goodbye” to their loved ones, that still the grace of Christ envelopes them. This is “simul justus et peccator” simultaneously saint and sinner in all its reality, directly before our eyes.
Christians might use the term, “simul” as a cool phrase but it’s vital to begin to understand the depth of the term, so that we might understand how meaningful it truly is. The brutal reality is that we are 100% sinner and we are 100% saint and we spend this life trying to reconcile that, sometimes forgetting that Jesus already has done so. This becomes very evident at a funeral, as much as it does when you are in private confession, or when you slip back into that pet sin and immediately grit your teeth and beg God to remind you that you actually are His child born from the waters of Holy Baptism. And you are. You are simultaneously a saint and a sinner, which means you, too, will be in that casket one day, but thankfully only for a time. For Christ will come for His Bride, the Church. It is then that we can face the day once again. Even as the sun is setting on the day you bury your loved one you remember the pastor singing:
With a sigh of relief, you can know that you will see your loved one again. In fact, you will see Christ with them. So, lay down your head. Close your eyes. Pray that God’s angels keep guard over you. You have had a sad and difficult day. Rest. Shadows are forming and sleep is calling. What more is there to do after all? Other than to:
Tomorrow when you awake, remember your Baptism. Go boldly into the day. I’ll see you come that final dawn when the simul is no longer the reality with which we must contend, and we experience the fullness of our salvation—our sainthood—in Christ.
Rev. Gaven M. Mize is the pastor of Augustana Evangelical Lutheran Church in Hickory, North Carolina. He also serves on the doctrinal review team for Higher Things.