COLUMN: When we’re forced to say goodbye

Published 4:52 pm Tuesday, October 22, 2024

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This week, I deviated from our journey through the Bible. You will have to survey Deuteronomy for yourself, and I’m sure you’ll do just fine. I did so because I had something rattling around in my heart. 

Do you know how much preparation time I had before I conducted the first funeral of my ministry career?  Fifteen minutes. If you think you misread either the first or second sentences just now, let me give you a moment to reread them. 

I graduated from seminary in May 1995. In June, I was unpacking boxes and putting my books up in my new office when the phone rang. The funeral director was one of our church members. I had been told that he occasionally would call on us if he needed a minister or a musician for a service. 

“Charles, I wanted to see if you could do a funeral for me.” Suddenly feeling a cold chill run up my spine, I replied that I would be happy to. I told him that I would need to put the phone down and go get my calendar.

The next sound I heard was a voice shouting my name through the phone I had just laid down as I took steps toward my desk. I picked the phone back up. “No, no. Charles, you don’t understand. I need you now.” 

He was right. I didn’t understand. Apparently, the minister the family had enlisted didn’t show up and was not answering the phone. If I would say yes, the funeral home flower van would pick me up in five minutes. At the graveside awaited a poor, grieving family holding umbrellas out in a driving rain. 

The assistant funeral director drove the van. All the way, I read as hard as I could in the minister’s manual. At the graveside, I did the very best I could under the circumstances. The family could not have been more gracious and thankful that day.  

Now as I write, I just held the hand of a woman who is nearing death. It was, once again, one of the tenderest and dear experiences I ever have. If you want to end your day feeling as though you did something that mattered, spending time in that situation matters. 

Her daughter and some other relatives were there. A chosen family member was also by their sides. The hospital staff were so gentle and compassionate. She was being kept comfortable. 

At this point in my work, I estimate I have conducted upwards of five hundred funerals. Some ministers keep records of these things. I don’t. I’m not a big scorekeeper, but that estimate is based on the places I have served including a large church where I was the principal officiant. It’s an educated guess that will hit close. 

The net effect of all that is not what I would have expected. Yes, in some ways I do have a gear that I am able to shift into and be a professional in most cases. I had to earn that space to operate within. I did so cumulatively. 

However, along the way we have experienced the tenderness of loss in our own household now a few times. Notably, my wife and I have lost three of our four parents as well as other beloved ones in our families. We have had to say the cruel goodbye ourselves. That will change you as you age.  

So sitting with the daughter of the woman who is nearing the end of her earthly journey, I viewed this adult child differently now. Differently, at least, than I could when my ministry began. 

I learned early on how to conduct a funeral. Good mentors and good resources, combined with a little experience, can teach you that. But they can’t age your soul. Only time and life’s experiences will do that, under God’s guiding Spirit. 

We talked about how sad the loss would be. We discussed some details about the funeral or memorial service, whichever one it turned out to be. But we also talked about how welcomed death would come now as a friend, too. Because her mother’s suffering needed to end. 

When you love someone enough and are forced to say goodbye not abruptly, but at the end of a long journey of decline, death can be merciful. Handing her over to the loving arms of her savior does not cure all of the hurt. But it is a journey we all share eventually. All of us. I am thankful.

DR. CHARLES QUALLS is senior pastor at Franklin Baptist Church. Contact him at 757-562-5135.