Showing posts with label mourning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mourning. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Our Covenant to Weep

I've seen some good advice in recent years about helping others who are grieving.  When tragedy strikes, it is very natural that we feel sadness, and it's a mistake to try to avoid feeling that sadness or prevent others from feeling it.  In fact, it is part of our covenant as disciples of Christ to do just the opposite.

Among other things, Alma spoke as part of the baptismal covenant dealing with helping others during their times of trial.  Specifically, (in Mosiah 18:8-9) he listed that those who make the covenant "are willing to":

1. "bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light"
2. "mourn with those that mourn"
3. "comfort those that stand in need of comfort"

We're explicitly given a very interesting instruction in the Doctrine and Covenants (42:45): "Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die".

(So while I think my thoughts before were valid in an earlier post on 07 December 2008, I guess I can cut that one guy in the picture a little bit of slack when he was mourning the loss of President Hinckley.  But only a little, because I think that mourning with others is meaningful when we actually know them and can communicate directly with them about their loss.  Anyway...)

Jesus himself, the ultimate exemplar, wept for someone He knew He was going to raise from the dead.  It's the shortest verse in scripture: "Jesus wept."  (John 11:35)  Even though Jesus knew that Mary and Martha's mourning would not last long, He took the time to weep with them--to mourn with them.

Last thoughts for now:
We all will have cause to mourn at times.  To me, an important way of showing love to others is to recognize that their feelings are real and valid, and we can do so effectively by sharing those feelings.  More than that, taking time to weep with others is also part of being a covenant disciple of Christ.  I hope to always remember that.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

To Be Mourned After Death

(written 21 Aug 11)

People value some strange things, and often people care way too much about others whom they’ve never even met, but sometimes what is important to a certain person is indicative of real worth.

We read that a certain disciple, Tabitha, was known in her life for being “full of good works and almsdeeds” (Acts 9:36). To have such a reputation shows that she really did something useful in her life. As we read further we learn at least one thing specifically that Tabitha did. After she died, “all the widows stood by…weeping, and shewing the coats and garments which [she] had made, while she was with them.”

They cared. Those widows really cared. She had made clothing for them, and they wept while showing an apostle of the Lord how she had shown them charity. I'm confident that the widows loved her for more than the material gifts, also; they surely felt her love in other ways as well.

Would I have anyone weep for my loss? Would others care like that? Would my death be meaningful, and thus indicate that my life had been meaningful?

I think of my wife, who has sewed blessing dresses for so many newborn girls. Sometimes the mothers cry when they see the dresses. That shows that she, much like Tabitha, has done something meaningful.

Last thoughts for now:
My gifts to others probably won’t often be in the form of clothing, so they won't mourn my loss for that reason. Frankly, I don’t want to be mourned when I die. I want people to rejoice in the Plan of Salvation. I’d like it, though, to know that my life had meaning to others. I hope to serve others until they know I love them, and I hope that in return they love me.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Death of an Apostle

Joseph Bitner Wirthlin: 11 June 1917 – 1 December 2008

There are things I just don't understand. A beloved apostle of the Lord has died, and I think back to the passing of our last president. Some reacted with great sadness, like the guy in this picture:

(AP) Thomas Richardson, a Brigham Young University student, pays his respects at a makeshift memorial in front of the Gordon B. Hinckley building on the campus of BYU after it was announced that Gordon Hinckley, the 97 year old leader of the Mormon Church died January 27, 2008 in Provo, Utah.

A fellow in my old ward bore his testimony the next Sunday and mentioned how sad he was.

I don't get it. For people who don't understand eternity, death can be frightening. But for us? I just don't get it.

What reason was there to mourn? If his life had been cut short, that would be unfortunate. If we had no hope of ever seeing him again, that would be bad. If he had been wicked and we knew he was going to face punishment before God, that would be horrible. If the Church was going to founder because of his loss, that would be absolutely terrible.

But none of these are the way things are! He was old. There's no doubt that he was righteous, and is in the next step of a glorious eternity. His wife had passed away years earlier, and (I'm certain that because they are sealed) they are now reunited. The Church prospered under his leadership, and it will continue to prosper with Thomas S. Monson as our president.

So why mourn?

If I died right now, it would be sad that my wife would face the challenge of raising our kids alone, and it would be sad that my children would have to grow up without a father. We'd miss out on a lot of wonderful experiences as a family. But ultimately, things would be fine; for the righteous, death is only a temporary separation.

If I live to be seventy or eighty or ninety years old, and then I die, I don't want anyone to mourn. If people have reason to believe that I've lived well, I want them to celebrate.

Last thoughts for now:
I have no doubt that Elder Wirthlin has been greatly blessed for his service. I also have no doubt that another apostle will be called, and that the work of God will continue and "the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly, and independent" as it has done. And we should have joy.