Funeral Sermon for Someone with Parkinson’s and Questions About Faith
Funeral Sermon Title: Searching, Knowing, and Trusting
Scriptures: Psalm 13, John 20:24–29
Are you preparing a funeral sermon for someone who had Parkinson’s or struggled with doubts about faith, science, or God? This message is for the thinker, the questioner, the one who wondered—and the family who loves them. Drawing on Psalm 13 and John 20, this sermon reflects on how God meets us in our uncertainty and walks with us into light.
I will always thank God for this man and woman who taught me so much about ministry, faith, and fortitude.
Names have been removed or changed to honor privacy.
Introduction
Ministers regularly officiate memorial services. Sometimes it’s for a family in the community who needs a pastor to step in—and when I can, I’m honored to do so.
But it’s different when someone within your own church passes away
Though ministers may preach dozens of times each year, I believe every church member also teaches the minister something. Every life is a sermon in its own right.
A Life of Compassion, Support, and Care
This man lived with Parkinson’s disease for many years. Through it all, he remained curious, thoughtful, observant. He joined a support group and remained actively involved in his community. His loved ones continued to walk beside him with commitment and grace.
It is a powerful witness: to keep showing up, even in decline. To stay connected to others. To hold to what matters most.
A Thinker and a Seeker
If you knew him, you knew he was a thinker. In fact, he co-authored a textbook on ecological research methods—an academic work focused on collecting, analyzing, and interpreting data.
He was thoughtful and curious about earthly things—and about heavenly things.
When I think of him, I think of the disciple Thomas. He’s often called “Doubting Thomas,” but I think of him as Searching Thomas.
After Jesus rose from the dead, he appeared to the disciples—but Thomas wasn’t there. And when the others told him, Thomas said:
“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
Jesus didn’t scold him. He didn’t say, “Why are you asking so many questions?” Instead, Jesus invited him to come closer. He gave him space to reach out and see for himself.
An Honest Conversation About Doubt
This man once shared a question with me that had lived in his heart for a long time.
He told me he had grown up with strong church influence. But in college, as he studied science—especially evolution—he found his understanding of the world expanding. He also belonged to a Christian student group at the time.
When he shared with them that he saw the scientific merit in evolution, some responded with a painful message: You can’t believe that and still be a Christian.
This was painful for him. Maybe something like that has been said to you.
He asked me plainly one day, “If I believe in evolution, what does that mean about my relationship with God? What does God think of me? Am I going to be okay?”
Here is what’s interesting. In the same gospel, you have Thomas at the end of the gospel longing for an experience that would give him certainty. At the beginning of this gospel, in chapter 3, you have Nicodemus, an academic who comes to Jesus and says, “I can’t figure it out. Are you the Messiah? How do I think about God and myself? How does all of this make sense?”
In neither of those situations does Jesus say, “You know what your faith needs? Less intellect. You’re thinking too much.”
No, no. In both of those situations, one wanting certainty through experience and the other wanting certainty through intellect, the challenge for both was to realize that what they possessed (intellect, experience) was enough to trust Christ.
Faith Doesn’t Mean Abandoning Your Mind
I made a pastoral visit to his home one day. Parkinson’s had weakened his voice. He was in his wheelchair, and his loving wife scooted him over toward me. I was face-to-face with him. We were that close that we could hear each.
We talked for an hour. He asked me, “If I believe in evolution then what about God? What does God think of me? Am I going to be okay?”
I knew that was a question coming from a place deep within him.
And here’s what I told him:
Your intellect or the amount of faith or how certain you may feel, is not the pick that unlocks the doors to heaven. God’s grace opens the door. God knew at your baptism you would study and come to that conclusion, but God is not threatened by your intellect or your questions. God welcomes them and God welcomes you. So, not only are you going to be okay; you are okay.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
He said, “I have wanted to hear that all my life.”
From Searching to Knowing
He was a thinker. He was a researcher. He was a searcher. He would ask me questions after the service about thoughts he had during my sermon. All of his life he wondered.
Now, he is no longer a searcher.
Now, he is a knower.
Now, he is fully known and fully at peace in the presence of our very good God.
God’s word over his life is clear and unshakable:
“Forgiven.”
“Redeemed.”
“Beloved.”
Not because he figured it all out, but because God never let him go.
I want to express my thanks to him and to God that our paths crossed and that he was able to have a deeply authentic conversation with me. That was a gift that he gave me that I will treasure forever.
If You’re Wondering Too
Maybe today you find yourself wondering about faith, life, or God’s disposition toward you.
Let me say this clearly: God’s heart toward you is not anger or contempt.
It is kindness. Love. Help. Mercy.
And in Jesus, we are shown a God who welcomes thinkers, doubters, and searchers.
God knows us in our mother’s womb. God supports us in every season. And when our days are done, this same God walks with us all the way home.
Conclusion
Psalm 13 begins with sorrow:
“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?”
But it ends with trust:
“I will sing to the Lord, for he has dealt bountifully with me.”
That was the arc of this life.
And that is the arc of grace.
To the family and loved ones gathered today:
May the peace of God—deep, strong, and kind—abide with you now and forever.
Amen.
