Jo’s Funeral July 15, 2009

On Monday, about 500 people gathered in Holy Trinity church, Wandsworth to give thanks for Jo’s life and ministry.

It was a beautiful service. Tributes were offered by Janis Wigg – one of Jo’s peers from Sittingbourne corps, who had some lovely insights int0 the beginning of Jo’s journey of faith. Then the Territorial Commander, Commissioner John Matear, commended Jo’s ministry, with the obligatory ‘Well done, good and faithful servant’. Ben, Jo & Alan’s eldest son rounded off the tributes with a heartfelt, hilarious and touching tribute to his Mum. He reminded us of the little memories of Jo that each of us carry, we were reminded what a precious person she was.

Prayers were said for the family, and then Lyndall led the congregation in a responsive prayer based around Isaiah 61 and some words that Jo had written on the wall of the old hall. Anyone who knew Jo knew that the call to preach good news to the poor and freedom for the captives was something she lived unflinchingly to do. It felt right and fitting to pray that we would all carry on with that… not because Jo said, not simply as a memorial, but because that is the call on all of our lives.

The worship at the service was phenomenal. We started with the song ‘Great is thy faithfulness’, because that seems to have been anthemic in this whole journey. From the first prayer meeting, to Sunday meetings, and even in some of the more bewildering meetings recently, the lines from that song have been sung over and over, and have comforted us and reminded us of God’s promised faithfulness.

In the middle section of the service, we sang ‘Guardian of my soul’, which was one of Jo’s favourites. Joe Davison from Raynes Park led us through, and his fiance Nicky sang the first verse of this song as a solo. Her voice is truly beautiful, and I’m not sure there was a dry eye in the house at that point.

We then went on to sing ‘You Never Let Go’, and ‘Above All’, which again reminded us of God’s continued presence and constant, inexhaustible strength. The service rounded up with the song ‘In Christ Alone’, which was sung with more gusto and passion than I think I have ever heard it.

Russ Rook spoke using texts from Romans 8 and Psalm 91. It must have been really hard to know what to say in that context, but he did so so well, and was clearly inspired by the Holy Spirit. It was exactly the right mix of humour and hope; remebering Jo whilst at the same time pointing us all towards Jesus. He said some stuff I will be musing on in the days and weeks ahead.

At the end of the service people spontaneously began clapping, and the applause went on and on and on. It was such an incredible sound. It struck me that we were celebrating Jo, but more than that we were celebrating the triumph of Christ, we were declaring that death has lost its sting, we were stating our hope in his future plans.

After the service people stayed around for a long time chatting and remembering. There were so many people it was lovely to see, although we all said we wished it was a happier context. I was especially grateful for our friends from 24-7 prayer who came along. It was a blessing to stand alongside them and we felt their love and support.

The weather was warm and dry, so I spent a lot of time sat out on the grass, just thinking and chatting stuff through with friends. It was a beautiful service and I felt challenged again by the call to keep on, keep on pushing into the things of God, keep walking even through what looks like his plans flew out the window, keep hoping in his future where the promises of Isaiah 61 really do come true around us.

 

and so we keep going.

 

“This I call to mind and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning;

Great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”

(Lamentations 3:21-24)

Throwing Rocks in the Sea July 14, 2009

Grief is weird and horrid. On Sunday I happened to mention that I felt like shouting a lot and throwing rocks in the sea. I wanted to rage at something, and there isn’t a lot of sea or rocks in Wandsworth.

So we jumped on a train. Of all the spontaneous things to do on a Sunday evening after setting up for a funeral. We got to Brighton about eight o clock in the evening, all a little hyper from all the emotional intensity I think.

And, you know, we had the best time. We walked on the pebbles and paddled in the sea and I threw rocks and ranted at the Lord a little. Then we took lots of photos and I roly-polyed down the beach and we splashed around a lot. Then we sat on the pier and had seaside chips and threw a message in a bottle out to sea. It was one of our numbers’ birthday so we celebrated in style with present opening on the pier and raucous dancing. Then we stumbled back towards the station and got lost and nearly missed the last train home, but it was worth the late night.

We needed to do something that was reckless and abandoned and not about loss and pain and questions and intensity and confusion. For just a few hours we could step out of all the intrigue and complexity of the present and celebrate: celebrate life, each other, the world around us, the freedom to make such spontaneous decisions, simple things like chips and donuts, and I like to think in it all we were celebrating Jo also – the love and joy she brought into our lives and the memories we shared.

I also think Sunday night was about hope, that even though things are tough right now, we have a hope that is so much stronger than loss and death and bereavement. Things might not be the same, but God promises that he has plans to prosper and not to harm us, and I like to think some of those plans involve last minute dashes to the seaside and a whole lot of laughter.

Here we are sat on the pier (apologies for the flash bounce).