We buried a saint of the most High God today. Not a perfect man, but a vivid portrait of mercy...who thanked God for the illness that took his life, for it also brought him back to the feet and the fellowship of the One Who redeemed him with His own blood.
As they sealed his coffin in its niche, we sang songs of praise...songs of redemption...songs of our Blessed Hope. Truly, God is good, and His mercy endures forever.
The ride to the cemetery was impressive, even though it was very familiar to me:
What looks like a vast, sprawling city dotted with high-rises...is just that.
Except it's not a city of the living -- it's a city of the dead.
Tens of thousands of residents...and not one of them breathing in the breath of life. They are very dead.
Loved ones come and pray, eat, sing and play music to their dearly departed...
But it all falls on ears that are not deaf – rather, on ears that cannot hear because they are dead.
We said a temporary "Goodbye" and buried our loved one; then we turned away, and drove back through the streets...
...the streets of the living dead. Of those dead in trespasses and sins.
Living, moving, breathing...
And dead.
And we have the message of life. Real life; abundant life. Eternal life.
We have to reach them. We must.
"And he said unto me, Sin of man, can these bones live?" --Ezekiel 37:3
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