Then I took offense where none was meant, and I apologize.

Peace.

I don’t know what Michael Spencer would have thought about that. I don’t think he would have been surprised though.

Can’t we just be thankful for the impact Michael Spencer had, mourn his death, and also be thankful that his suffering is over? My hope is that right now Michael is finally experiencing the “Jesus-shaped spirituality” he longed for in a way that “no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived”.

I, for one, am thankful that Michael, at least, is no longer lost in the “evangelical wilderness” but has reached the Promised Land.

I just found it illustrative.

In my experience, other believers were way too hesitant to speak of this hope to me. I expected all gloom and doom from unbelievers, but when I couldn’t get other Christians to grieve and hope with me, it could be discouraging and isolating. I mean, they’re supposed to share my hope, aren’t they? How is it that they don’t bring it up in conversation? And when I do, why is it that they look at me like I’m nutty and delusional?

Yes we grieve, but we grieve with hope and Frank was right and pastoral (used in the weird way most people use it) to bring it up.

I am sure I said, “Without any disrespect meant toward the honest and right-hearted mourning of Michael’s family and his legions of friends, let me suggest that the world is not any less-bright today than it was yesterday …” and not “let’s only celebrate!”

I do respect your loss, and your mourning, and since what I posted here has made that worse and not better, I apologize.

God be with you.

My main thought is that we have to say it all with a both/and instead of with an either/or.

Ken, I agree: “We have not gathered to grieve but to celebrate!” is exactly the kind of either/or to avoid. We should be able to grieve our loss and to celebrate.

Pointing to the joy & hope doesn’t require denying that there is anything to mourn over.

I think I’m happy with this, from Frank’s second comment:
“For me, for months I have prayed for Michael that God will be shown mighty in his recovery. Instead, we have what we have today — which is that Michael is entirely whole and in Christ’s presence and in need of nothing. We do not have Michael, but Christ does, and that’s better.

Isn’t it? Isn’t that the kind hand to hold out to grief — that our loss is overshadowed by 10,000-fold by Michael’s gain?”

A humorous opening sentence that deserves to be acknowledged for erupting chuckles in this remote corner of the blogosphere.

I don’t quite buy the argument that Jesus was weeping because he had to bring someone back from glory any more than I would buy an argument that Jesus’ cry of dereliction was more for us than it was for him.

We still believe in the resurrection of the body and to my mind we ought to mourn, not as something sinful, but as a genuine human expression in the face of death–a death that ought not to be.

It is strange to me that we still default to talk about sin in terms of guilt and not in terms of a condition for which we join the entire created order with “sighs too deep for words” (Rom. 8:22-23) until that final liberation.

So, I would want any pastor to legitimize my grief not only as deeply human, but as giving genuine expression to something that should not be. This is who scripture uses grief, even with reference to God–God grieves at sin in all of its manifestations, and death is certainly one of them. At the same time, I think what Frank and George say about the other side must be kept in mind as well. . .we have a hope, and this hope does not disappoint.

Having said this, it has been salutary for me to watch the genuine theological struggle over this all-too-real difficulty that we must all face over the course of our lives.

Our Lord once wept at a funeral. But while everyone else was weeping because Lazarus had died, He wept because He knew He was going to bring back His dear friend from the place of unspeakable joy in order to lend authority to the words: “I am the Resurrection and the Life. He who believes in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” The Gospel turns the way of the world upside down. As the children of the Gospel, it is our joy to testify to that truth.

Obviously we want to do that with compassion, because we know that to grieve is human. At the same time we should understand that to be human is to be a sinner and that grief is most often a preoccupation with one’s self.

Peace and Joy,
George A. Marquart

I can expunge the record for you from the admin side if you like, but I’m curious: do you think my comment vis. Adam’s comment is actually unpastoral? I’m not a pastor, but it seems to me that the remedy for our perception of what we have lost in a time like this is not to underscore our limits — that path always leads to more grief. The remedy is the truth of death — which, for a person who is in Christ, and of faith, is the end of this corruptible life and its trouble and the start of eternity with Christ.

For me, for months I have prayed for Michael that God will be shown mighty in his recovery. Instead, we have what we have today — which is that Michael is entirely whole and in Christ’s presence and in need of nothing. We do not have Michael, but Christ does, and that’s better.

Isn’t it? Isn’t that the kind hand to hold out to grief — that our loss is overshadowed by 10,000-fold by Michael’s gain?

Please help me see your point of view here. I honestly don’t think I get it at all.