Have you ever noticed that funerals--especially for those you have loved deeply--seem to make quite clear what is important and what isn't? To some degree attending a funeral for one you don't even know can cause this clarifying moment. And so can spending an hour in a care center for the elderly, a moment watching a severely handicapped child, or even watching a movie that deals with issues of life, death, love, and loss.
Mortality's moments make us see more clearly. They have a way of sorting out of the URGENT box so many trivial concerns. Not simply the usual suspects either: money, material goods, and cheap pleasures. They also seem to put into perspective what really matters in religion and what ... well ... doesn't.
The Work of Death is to elevate some things: Jesus, God's character, God's promises, God's good intentions, grace, love, patience, care, compassion, and other gold-standard convictions.
And then some things are demoted: wars about music in the church, disputes about disputable matters, wrestling and wrangling over issues the Bible is either silent or scant upon.
The siren of human frailty ought to (and generally does) put things in order. But why do we so quickly return to the confusion of making a big deal out of nothing and giving little thought and effort into the things that really, really ... really count?
