Living Tombstones
I conducted a funeral at a military cemetery today. It was my first visit to the DFW National Cemetery and it looked much like I expected. It was very preserved and well manicured with rows and rows of perfectly placed headstones, representing the men and women who served in the military and have now passed away. At first, it hit me wrong. I was a little disenchanted over the symmetry of it all. As I drove past the rows, evenly spaced and precisely replicated, I noticed the only thing that changed from headstone to headstone is inscription on the front. Even the names and dates seemed monotonously the same as the rows extended from the curb of the road off into the distance in a perfect pattern. As I made my way through the cemetery, carefully making sure I did nothing out of conformity, I noticed that there was a survey crew, equipped with GPS equipment, to digitally mark the perfect placement of each headstone.
Row after row, the questions began racing through my mind. Who were these people? What did they look like? How old were they when they died? How many were men, how many were women? Which ones were fathers and which ones were mothers? Who died in battle and who died of natural causes? These were individual people, both men and women, young and old, some died in battle and others at home, some tall and others short, some funny and others serious, all of which had very individual lives and very individual stories. It bothered me that the lives of so many individuals were wrapped up in a cookie-cutter headstone with no indication of the real story behind the inscription.
The three-soldier military unit that was assigned to our service began the ceremony with perfect cadence and procedure: unfolding the flag, the playing of Taps, carefully re-folding the flag and delivering it to the family with these words, "On behalf of the President of the United States and the Chief of Naval Operations, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s service to this country and a grateful Navy. God bless you and this family, and God bless the United States of America." And as the soldiers were finishing their part of the ceremony, just a few feet from where I stood, I finally got it. What first struck me as odd and somewhat disrespectful to the individuals buried in the cemetery was actually something remarkably beautiful. The repetition and symmetry and impersonal arrangement of the military cemetery made perfect sense; each grave marker represented an individual person who had surrendered their lives to one common mission.
Before any of these people had died a physical death, each had already died a personal death in order to live for something bigger than themselves. The symmetry with which the cemetery was arranged displayed a common battle and a common mission, to live and if necessary die for the same cause. I pulled away from the cemetery with a deeper understanding and a new sense of respect, not just for the cemetery, but for those whom the cemetery represented. Driving away my eyes filled with tears. Every person who was buried there had surrendered the right to their own mission in order to live and die for the United States of America. Each person, whether from the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force or Coast Guard, had served in a specific role at a specific time in order to serve the same mission.
I started my journey back to the church office to resume my daily routine and my thoughts wondered to the individuals who make up Solid Rock Church. I thought about each person, unique in gifting and personality and role. Each Christ-follower, like those who serve in the military, has died a spiritual death. In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus called his followers to live and die for one mission, “22 saying, ‘The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.’ 23 And he said to all, ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. 24 For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.’” (Luke 9:22-24 ESV) While we know from the Gospels, that Jesus literally had his own death in mind, he was calling his followers to an individual death to personal ambition and individual mission in order to join the singular mission of the cross. Much like the cemetery I visited today, some of his followers would give their lives literally in the battle of persecution, while others would die peacefully at home. However, all must die to themselves for the sake of the common mission. Jesus left his followers with a very clear and common mission, to live and die for the cross by taking the Gospel to the nations.
The experience today gave me a visual and tangible metaphor for the unity of the church. Our unity isn’t found in cookie-cutter lifestyles or personalities. Our unity isn’t displayed in our worship attire or our secret “Christian” lingo. Our unity is found in our common death and our common mission. In a way, the church is a military cemetery and the people of the church are living tombstones. The Apostle Peter put it this way, “4 As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious, 5 you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 2:4-5 ESV) While the people of God all have individual identity and stories, we all share in one common story, the story of living and dying for the mission of Jesus and the glory of God.