Funeral Sermon for a Life Cut Short: God’s Compassion in Our Deepest Pain
Sermon Title: God’s Compassion in Our Deepest Pain
Scriptures: John 11:17–36, Psalm 34:18
Key Theme: Life is difficult. But God is present even in our lowest moments, and nothing—not even death by suicide—can separate us from God’s love.
Introduction
The hymn we just sang (O God, in a Mysterious Way) was written in 1774 by William Cowper, a man who struggled for many years with mental health and suicidal thoughts.
Cowper came from a respected family, was surrounded by a strong community of faith, and became one of the most well-known poets in 18th-century England. And still, daily life remained a struggle for him.
While institutionalized in what was then called an “asylum,” he found a Bible on a bench and began to read. One story stood out—the story of Jesus raising Lazarus. In that moment, Cowper testified that he came to believe that Christ sees us at our lowest, speaks tenderly to our despair, and offers resurrection hope to all who suffer.
He left that place with renewed faith and went on to collaborate with Rev. John Newton—the writer of Amazing Grace. Cowper’s hymns hold both divine mercy and human frailty in the same breath.
And you can hear William speak to his own soul in the song we sang: yes, there are clouds of sadness and melancholy that I sometimes fear, but instead of judgment or suffering, there is mercy.
For ones who suffer chronically, whether physically or mentally, relief rarely comes and as they imagine the rest of their days a common feeling they have is dread. William felt that way and yet he urges himself and us to catch a glimpse of the compassionate Christ who does not shame us or push us away – but stoops down to us, another hurt mortal, who needs resurrection.
You heard that Jesus himself was angry at the pain and heartache that death brings to our life – he doesn’t break away from when we feel the way we feel. Like the Psalm said, “He draws close to the broken hearted.”
Life Is Difficult
The opening line of M. Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled is blunt and true:
“Life is difficult.”
Sometimes, life’s burdens feel unbearable. Some days bring decision after decision, stress on top of stress. Some people, especially those suffering from chronic physical or mental illness, look ahead and feel only dread.
That was Cowper’s story. That may be the story of the one we are honoring today.
And perhaps it’s your story, too. Maybe you feel isolated. Numb. Lost in grief. Maybe the world keeps moving and you can’t. Or won’t.
If you’re there, please hear me clearly: you are not alone.
And there is help. There is hope.
Jesus Weeps
In John 11, Jesus arrives at the tomb of his dear friend Lazarus. He sees Lazarus’ sisters, Mary and Martha, devastated by grief. He sees the mourners weeping. And what does Jesus do?
He weeps.
The Son of God, who knows resurrection is coming, still cries.
This tells us something powerful:
Jesus is not ashamed of our emotions. He is not put off by our grief.
He draws near to the brokenhearted. (Psalm 34:18)
After Suicide: The Unique Weight of Grief
When someone dies by suicide, the grief is complicated and heavy.
You may feel shocked, confused, angry, or numb. You may feel a thousand “what ifs” flooding your mind.
You may want to finish the sentence:
“He made this decision because…”
But more often than not, there is no tidy answer. We simply do not know. We want to solve the riddle, but the truth is: we can’t.
What we can do is remind ourselves of what is true and trustworthy.
And what’s true is this:
He/she loved you.
And you loved him/her.
That love does not need an explanation to be real.
Be Kind to Yourself
Don’t measure your love by the outcome. Don’t question every memory or conversation.
Instead of trying to complete the sentence:
“He made this decision because…”
Consider saying:
“I don’t know why he made this decision. But I know that s/he loved me. And I will always love him/her.”
That kind of gentleness—with yourself and with your memories—is a form of healing.
There Is Help
When someone I loved ended their life, I reached out for help.
When my father passed away suddenly, I found a counselor.
When my wife and I walked through the crushing pain of miscarriages, we didn’t carry it alone.
Help is not weakness. Help is wisdom.
Whether it’s a therapist, a friend, a pastor, or a hotline—please don’t carry the weight alone.
My contact information is on the bulletin you’re holding. If you don’t have a minister to talk to, I will be yours. My door is open.
Baptism and the Love That Remains
Let me speak now about what is certain.
At baptism, God made a promise.
“You are mine. No matter what.”
That promise isn’t voided by mental illness. It isn’t revoked by despair. It isn’t undone by death.
The water of baptism may evaporate, but the promise never does.
Even when we are too weak to hold onto Christ, Christ is never too weak to hold onto us.
Romans 8: Nothing Can Separate Us
“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come… will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
That verse means what it says.
Not even death by suicide can undo the love of God.
Conclusion
We give thanks for a life that ended too soon.
We grieve what could have been.
We carry love that remains.
Through the sure and certain hope of the resurrection in Jesus Christ, the one we love now rests in peace and will rise in glory.
And on that day, we will embrace again.
Until then, may God’s mercy carry us.
May Christ’s peace surround us.
And may we remember that we are never, ever alone.
Amen.
