Blessed Are Those Who Mourn

by Jonathan Pless

I went to a house of mourning this summer. My wife and I have made the trip to Tifton many times since I married into the family. We’ve enjoyed Thanksgivings, Christmases, and  plenty of unannounced, non-holiday trips. This trip was different though. 

I entered the house and greeted everyone with a heavy heart. I soon made it to Nema’s room.  Her daughter was there with her. My wife was already sitting next to her hospital bed. I stood next to her and accepted Nema’s hand from my wife’s. Colliding emotions came to me at once.  I thought of the many hearts this lady had touched with the now frail hand I held. Nema was a woman of hospitality. She showed unselfish and unfailing service to her husband and family for nearly a century. She showed love through acts — cooking, cleaning, sitting, and cleaning again. I smiled. She’s touched my wife’s heart with this hand. She’s been a role model and a steady source of comfort for her for many years before I ever knew her.

While I was smiling, the lyrics “O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?” came to mind. Yet, unlike the song, I felt the sting of death. Tears came to my eyes. I see the victory the grave is about to have. When death is around, it is pungent. I’m in a house of mourning and death is stinging.  Why do personifications of kindness like Nema have to die? Why do their bodies wear out?  Why does death sting so bitterly? Why is the grave about to win? All of us were crying in that  bedroom because we were loved by Nema. She had served us all. We love Nema. She loved us. Death stings. It is painful. The sting brings tears. It causes sorrow. It is inevitable and painful.  

When I’m around funerals and loss and mourning, a few thoughts come to mind. These Scriptures give thoughtful advice, comfort, and a command:

“It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the  destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart.” (Ecclesiastes 7:2)  

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4)  

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15)  

I’m in this house of mourning and I find myself taking this sting to heart. Yes, death is inevitable. But just as sure as it is inevitable, it stings. To love is to be vulnerable and to open your heart to the possibility of being wrung. When a lady like Nema dies, hearts are wrung. Stoicism is not welcomed here. We cry, and we cry hard. We show how death stings. We mourn the loss and separation. We mourn with those who mourn. We weep with those who weep.  

More verses as I dwell in the house of mourning:  

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or  pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I  am making all things new!”” (Revelation 21:3-5a) 

“Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death,  so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13 NLT)

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I  shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.” Psalm 42:5 

Hope? In the midst of mourning, I can have hope? Indeed, I have hope. Who else can bring me comfort and hope but the Comforter, the Almighty Creator? He will wipe every tear from our eyes one day when death and mourning and crying and pain are gone forever. Oh, what a day when God makes all things new and we dwell with Him forever. Then we can truly and finally sing, “O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?”. Even now, we don’t grieve like the rest of mankind who have no hope. Surely not! We grieve, yes; but we grieve with hope. Our souls may be cast down and weary from pain. But we hope in God. We praise  Him even in the turmoil of the soul. We are stung, wrung, and weeping — and we have hope. 

How can God, who at times seems far off and distant from us in our trouble, be our hope? God is not far off. He is near. He sees you and me in our mourning. He is close to us in our grief. He understands our pain and our grief and sorrow. How can God resonate with us? Because God became man. His name is Jesus. This man lost friends and wept too. Even Jesus was stung by death. This is why we can cry out to God in our sorrow. He knows you. He sees you. He cares for you. He loves you. That’s why He died, isn’t it? Out of love? He didn’t die out of disinterested duty. He died in my place because of love. He glorified God in His death. We too glorify God even in our sorrow and despair. How? Since God is gloriously desirable, we feel wrong for not being joyful and glad sometimes. Isn’t it right for us to long for the unencumbered joy we have tasted before? We do even in our sorrow. And by doing so, we give  God the glory. We praise God in our despair. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted; they will have hope.