Questions From Jesus: “Do You Want to Be Healed?” (Part V)

Sermon Title: Questions Asked by Jesus – “Do You Want To Be Made Well?”

Good News Statement: Jesus asks us questions to grow our faith

Summary: The questions Jesus asks us are not meant to tear us down but rather to build us into the disciples and church his creation needs

Preached: Sunday, November 1^st, 2026 at Dogwood Prairie UMC & Seed Chapel UMC

Pastor Daniel G. Skelton, M.Div.

 

Scripture (NRSV): John 5:1-15 Today’s scripture passage comes from the Gospel of John. In John 5: 6 Jesus asks the paralyzed man by the pool of Bethesda if he wants to be healed. From this moment, we use Jesus’ question during our season of grief as we remember those who have passed before us. Let’s read John, Chapter Five, Verses One thru Fifteen. May the hearing and reading of this scripture add understanding and meaning to your life.

 

Jesus Heals on the Sabbath

5 After this there was a festival of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

² Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. ³ In these lay many ill, blind, lame, and paralyzed people. ⁵ One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. ⁶ When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” ⁷ The ill man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am making my way someone else steps down ahead of me.” ⁸ Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” ⁹ At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.

Now that day was a Sabbath. ¹⁰ So the Jews said to the man who had been cured, “It is the Sabbath; it is not lawful for you to carry your mat.” ¹¹ But he answered them, “The man who made me well said to me, ‘Take up your mat and walk.’ ” ¹² They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take it up and walk’?” ¹³ Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had disappeared in the crowd that was there. ¹⁴ Later Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you have been made well! Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you.” ¹⁵ The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well.

The Word of God, for the People of God; And all God’s People said, “Thanks Be To God.”

 

 

Introduction:

Throughout his ministry here on earth—approximately 3 to 3.5 years as indicated by John’s timeline in his Gospel which explicitly mentions at least three different annual Passover feasts—Jesus asked about 307 recorded questions across the four Gospels. The Gospel of Matthew records 91 questions, Mark records 67 questions, Luke records 96 questions, and John records 50 to 53 questions.

Jesus enjoyed asking questions, but he also had a knack for not always providing an answer. It is noted that of the 183 questions asked to Jesus, he only answered three of them. Do you know which three he answered? First in Matthew 22:23-40 and Mark 12:28-31, Jesus is asked which commandment is the greatest to which he answered directly by quoting the greatest commandment to love God and neighbor. Second, when asked how to pray in Luke 11:1-4, Jesus answered directly by sharing the Lord’s Prayer. Third, when the high priest asked, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?” while on trial in Mark 14:61-62, Jesus directly answered by saying, “I am.” Keep in mind, although Jesus only answered three questions directly that doesn’t mean he ignored the other 180 questions. He heard those questions, just like he hears your questions, and answered them in way that was most beneficial to the one asking the question. Said another way, rather than acting as a simple “answer man,” Jesus used questions and counter-questions to provoke deep thought, challenge motives, and inspire spiritual transformation.

Today, we continue asking Jesus questions. Most of the questions we ask Jesus deal with suffering, personal pain, and the reasons behind tragedy in the world. For example, the most frequently asked questions are as follows: “Why do bad things happen? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do I feel alone? Are you disappointed in me? Why do you love a broken world? Why is there so much evil? Who gets to go to heaven? What is heaven like? And How can I serve you better?” Be honest with yourself, have you ever found yourself asking Jesus any of these questions? Do any of them resonate with you? For me personally, I have found myself asking “Why do bad things happen? Why did this happen to me? And How can I better serve your mission?”

For the next couple of weeks, I want us to spend some time thinking about some of the questions that Jesus asked his followers and those whom he was healing. Out of the 307 questions Jesus asked, Biblical teachers often highlight seven major, profound questions. Those questions include: “What do you want me to do for you? Who do you say that I am? Why are you afraid, you of little faith? Who touched me? Do you believe I am able to do this? Why do you entertain evil thoughts in your hearts? And Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” Each week will explore one of these questions and discern what it is that Jesus wants us to glean from his words. So, what question is Jesus asking you?

 

Body:

[1]Today is All Saints Day. All Saints Day is annually observed on November 1st.[2] It is a day John Wesley, founder of the Methodist movement, describe in a journal entry from November 1, 1767, as “a festival I truly love.” On the same day in 1788, he wrote, “I always find this a comfortable day.”[3] Today is All Saints’ Day—a sacred space in the church calendar where we look backward with gratitude and forward with hope. We gather with a unique mixture of emotions. We carry the memories of those we have loved and lost. For many of us, the seats beside us feel empty, the table is no longer crowded, and our hearts feel heavier than usual. We are living in a season defined by grief, sorrow, and deep loss. The church gives us All Saints’ Day not to bypass our grief, but to hallow it—to make it holy, to treat it with great respect and reverence in a community of support.[4]

Our scripture reading today comes from an unexpected place for All Saints’ Day: the Gospel of John, chapter 5.[5] Jesus looks at a paralytic man, knows his history, and asks a disarmingly piercing question in verse 6: “Do you want to be made well?” Do you want to be healed? At first glance, it sounds almost insensitive. Of course he wants to be well! Of course he wants to be healed. Of course he wants to be set free and no longer experience this grief. But Jesus is digging deeper as he often does. He is addressing the exhaustion of long-term suffering. Today, as we grieve our saints, Jesus walks into our sanctuary, looks into our tear-stained eyes, and asks us the very same thing: “Do you want to be made well?”

 

Movement One: The Text Explained…

Let us explore three ways Jesus meets us in our grief through this powerful question, but first let’s read John’s account of this miracle, which only appears in the Gospel of John. John 5:1-15 is as follows: “Sometime later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish festivals. Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, ‘Do you want to get well?’ ‘Sir,’ the invalid replied, ‘I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.’ Then Jesus said to him, ‘Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.’ At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked. The day on which this took place was a Sabbath, and so the Jewish leaders said to the man who had been healed, ‘It is the Sabbath; the law forbids you to carry your mat.’ But he replied, ‘The man who made me well said to me, “Pick up your mat and walk.”’ So they asked him, ‘Who is this fellow who told you to pick it up and walk?’ The man who was healed had no idea who it was, for Jesus had slipped away into the crowd that was there. Later Jesus found him at the temple and said to him, ‘See, you are well again. Stop sinning or something worse may happen to you.’ The man went away and told the Jewish leaders that it was Jesus who had made him well.”

Jesus travels to Jerusalem for a Jewish festival. Near the Sheep Gate is the pool of Bethesda, which has five covered colonnades and is crowded with sick, blind, lame, and paralyzed people. The name Bethesda translates from Aramaic to mean “House of Mercy” or “House of Grace.” According to popular Jewish tradition, an angel of the Lord would descend into the pool at certain times to stir up the water. The first person to step into the water was immediately cured of whatever disease or physical ailment they had. Essentially, they received mercy and grace when entering the water. This is the place Jesus finds himself.

Off in the distance Jesus sees a man who has been an invalid for 38 years. When Jesus asks if he wants to get well, the man explains that he has no one to help him into the pool when the water is stirred up. The man, instead of simply answering the question, decides to tell Jesus why he hasn’t been healed: no one has carried him into the pool, as if nobody cares about him.[6] The man in our text has only known of the healing power of the water, so that’s how he answers Jesus: “Do you want to be healed? Yes, but no one is here to carry me into the water.”

Jesus doesn’t wait for an answer. Jesus tells him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” The man is healed immediately, picks up his mat, and starts walking. That’s great, but Jesus broke the law of the day and performed this miracle on the Sabbath. Jewish leaders confront the man for carrying his mat, which violates their Sabbath traditions. The Jewish leaders were more concerned with the law being broken than this man being able to walk. Now, the man does not know who healed him because Jesus slipped away into the crowd. Later, Jesus finds the man in the Temple and tells him, “See, you are well again. Stop sinning or something worse may happen to you.” The man then goes and tells the Jewish leaders that Jesus is the one who healed him, which triggers intense opposition against Jesus.

This story doesn’t sound like a story for the grieving. Sure, the man was grieving by the Pool of Bethesda, but overall this story is joyous, cheerful, and filled with good news: a man who hasn’t been able to walk for 38 years, gets up from his mat, takes his mat, and walks away. That doesn’t sound like grief to me. For 38 years this man tried and tried and tried to get into the water, but was never successful. But then one day, Jesus, whom the man doesn’t know, heals him and walks away. The man is made well. That’s not grief: that’s praise! But within this text is a lesson of grief, a moment to remind ourselves that even in our grief and sorrow Jesus wants to make us well again. But do you want to be made well? Do you want to pick up your mat and walk again?[7] Or do you constantly want to feel as if nobody is here to help you, as if you can’t move as if grief is controlling your life? Jesus wants to help you: he is present in your grief and he is ready to make you well.

 

Movement Second: Jesus Sees Your Long-Standing Sorrow

The text tells us that Jesus saw the man lying there and learned that he had been in that condition for a long time. Thirty-eight years is a lifetime to carry a burden. When we lose someone we love, the initial shock eventually fades for the rest of the world, but for us, the clock keeps ticking in empty silence. Grief has longevity to it. It is not a 24-hour bug; it is an ongoing landscape we must walk through. In the middle of it, we often feel completely unseen. We cry out like the Psalmist in Psalm 13:1, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” Again, we feel like no one can see us.

Think of a grandfather clock that has run out of weights. The pendulum hangs perfectly still, completely frozen in time, while the rest of the household moves around it. When we experience a profound loss, it feels exactly like that. The world keeps spinning, traffic keeps moving, people keep laughing, but our internal clock has completely stopped. We feel entirely isolated in our frozen grief.

But notice the text: Jesus saw him. Before the man even spoke, before he could ask for help, Jesus noticed him in the crowd of suffering people. God does not overlook your tears. In your loneliest midnight, when the grief feels as fresh as the day it happened, Jesus sees you. Revelation 21:4 gives us the beautiful ultimate promise of All Saints’ Day: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He sees your pain today, and he promises it will not have the final word.

When you are grieving, one of the most isolating feelings is the belief that you are entirely invisible. The world keeps spinning. People laugh, traffic moves, bills arrive, and life carries on. Yet, your world has completely stopped. You might feel like you are sitting on the edge of the pool, watching everyone else move forward while you remain paralyzed by the weight of your loss. But notice the order of events in Bethesda: Jesus notices the man before the man ever notices Jesus. The man didn’t call out. He didn’t cry for help. He was too tired for that. Jesus simply saw him.[8] All Saints’ Day reminds us that our grief is not a secret to God. He validates your sorrow. He does not rush your timeline. He simply sits with you in it. Jesus suffers with you. Jesus cries with you. Jesus hurts with you. And Jesus grieves with you because he sees you when the rest of the world doesn’t.[9] Jesus will see you before the grief starts, during the grief, after the grief, and the when grief returns. The most important thing to remember is that Jesus sees you.

 

Movement Three: Greif Can Become our Permanent Residence…

So why does Jesus ask, “Do you want to be made well?” Because after thirty-eight years, the mat had become the man’s identity. He was no longer just a person who was suffering; he had become a “lame man.” Of course the man wants to be healed! But Jesus is inviting the man to speak his reality out loud.

When we are in deep sorrow, we often mask it. We tell people “I’m doing fine,” or “I’m holding it together” or “Tomorrow’s a new day.” We think that being a Christian means we have to present an unshakeable exterior. But Jesus invites us to be radically honest about our brokenness. Healing cannot begin until we acknowledge the depth of the wound.

I’m sure many of you have found yourself, after losing a loved one or a friend, saying, “I’m fine,” or “I’ll be fine.” You put up a front to make others feel better when deep down you know that you aren’t fine. Deep down you are struggling, you are hurting, you are searching for answers. It’s our human nature to be strong. “We have to be strong for those who are grieving.” But why? Why do we have to be strong for those who are grieving if maybe our grieving together could be what we need to feel a sense of peace. We say things are okay but deep down we know that is not the truth. Deep down we want to cry, we want to shout, we want to run from everyone. We want to be strong but we don’t need to be.[10]

When we experience devastating loss, sorrow can become a familiar, heavy blanket. Grief changes our emotional landscape so entirely that we can become terrified of healing, which is why we think we have to be strong. We ask ourselves: If I stop crying, does that mean I am forgetting them? If I smile again, am I being unfaithful to their memory? If I don’t think about them every day does it mean that I don’t love them as much as I did when they were still living? We can inadvertently make our home on the mat of our sorrow, letting our loss define the entirety of who we are. The great author C.S. Lewis, after losing his beloved wife Joy, wrote a book called A Grief Observed. In it, he compared grief to a long, winding valley where every turn reveals a new landscape. But he noted the danger of wanting to pitch a tent in the darkest part of the valley, mistakenly believing that staying miserable was a measure of how much he loved her. Eventually, he realized that true love honors the dead by choosing to live fully again, by continuing their legacy and story.

Jesus gives you permission to not be okay, to not to be strong. Christianity does not suppress grief; it sanctifies it. Even Jesus wept at the grave of his friend Lazarus (John 11:35), fully knowing he was about to raise him. If the Son of God can weep over death, you are allowed to weep too. Pour out your heart to Him. He can handle your anger, your questions, and your devastating sadness.

Jesus’ question is an invitation to gentle self-reflection. Healing does not mean forgetting. Moving forward does not mean moving on from your love for those who have passed. The saints who have gone before us—those cloud of witnesses—do not want their legacy to be our permanent paralysis. They ran their race, and they are now cheering us on to run ours. Jesus asks us if we want to be made well because he wants to separate our identity from our trauma. You are a child of God who is grieving, but you are not defined by grief alone. He wants you to honor the lives of those past so that you can live more fully.

Jesus asks you if you want to be made well completely knowing what your answer is, knowing that it may take time to give him an answer, and knowing that joy will come in the morning but that grief that lasts through the night may last longer than a single night. However, Jesus also knows that we aren’t meant to be defined by our grief. We are meant to pick up our mat and walk again. We are meant to be strong again. We are meant to have hope again. We are meant to live again with our loved one in our heart. Experience the grief but don’t let grief become your permanent residence because there is a story the needs to be told.

 

Movement Four: The Command to Rise is Empowered by His Grace…

After the man explains why he can’t get into the pool, Jesus doesn’t wait for the water to stir. He doesn’t call for a stretcher. He looks at the man and gives three rapid commands: “Stand up, take your mat, and walk.” And immediately, the man was made well. Notice that Jesus tells him to take his mat with him. He doesn’t leave the mat behind. The mat becomes our hope to face tomorrow.[11]

On All Saints’ Day, we remember that the saints we lost are not just figures of our past; they are anchors of hope for our future. They have crossed the finish line. They are part of that “great cloud of witnesses” mentioned in Hebrews 12:1, cheering us on. Being “made well” from grief does not mean forgetting the ones we lost. It means allowing God to comfort us so deeply that we can eventually stand up, pick up the weight of our story, and begin to walk forward into the life God still has for us: a life of hope.[12]

On March 19, 2021, I found hope as I shared a memory of my Uncle Dale during his celebration of life service who passed away at the age of 67. My Uncle was a workaholic, but if you needed help with anything, he was always there. Growing up next door to his Upholstery Business, he would often call our house telling me he had a “life-sized” Hotwheel in the shop waiting to get new seats. I grew up collecting Hotwheels, so those phone calls were the best. Of course it wasn’t an actual “life-sized” Hotwheel but it was usually a really nice, restored, and expensive car. He would tell me about it with a smile on his face and excitement in his voice.

Several years later, in high school and through college, I would find myself working for him. It wasn’t until I got to work with him on a project that I truly figured out why he loved to work. What he told me gave me hope on March 19, 2021. I shared with all those present, through a mask that muffled a lot of my words, what he told me. This is what I shared, “My Uncle Dale loved to work. He didn’t work to earn a paycheck. He didn’t work because had to. He didn’t work to earn a living. He worked because he loved giving old and worn out things new life, a new chapter, and a new chance to make memories. The furniture he recovered, the car seats he sewed, the deals he made were all done because he wanted to give his customers hope in what gave them memories. Those recovered couches gave a family more opportunity to spend time together. Those new car seats gave life to a new project and a new dream for someone. Those deals he made gave businesses a chance to keep their doors open. My Uncle Dale worked because he loved to give something a second chance. What he sewed was more than an object: it was a new beginning, it was hope.”

On a day when people were mourning and grieving, I found hope—the strength to pick up my mat. I still miss my Uncle Dale: I always will just like you will always miss those who have passed away; but through him I learned a life lesson that involves not giving up on hope, but rather seeing something that deserves a second a chance. Today, cherish the lessons of those who have passed in your life because those lessons may be exactly what you need to be able to pick up your mat and live this life for them and all those who God has placed in your life.

 

Conclusion:

In conclusion, Jesus sees you by the pool of your sorrow today. He knows how long you have been carrying this grief and how long you have stayed on your mat. Hear him asking you today, with infinite tenderness: “Do you want to be made well?” You don’t have to heal all at once. You don’t have to pretend the pain isn’t there. But you can trust him to hold you. Take comfort in knowing that our separation from the saints is only temporary, but the love of God is eternal.

I end this message by sharing a story. “One day a man was walking through a beautiful church building with his 4-year-old son. As they walked, the young boy looked around. He stopped and was curious about the stained-glass windows that looked so beautiful with their bright colors. As he looked at the windows, he asked: ‘Who are all the people in the windows, daddy?’ ‘They are saints,’ said his father. ‘What are saints daddy?’ the kid asked. The father was stuck. How was he going to explain who saints are to a four-year-old boy? As the boy was still looking up at the windows and his father was still wondering how he would explain who saints are, the young boy shouted: ‘I know who saints are, they are the people that the light shines through.’” They are the people that the light shines through. May the light and love of our saints shine within us today and always as we are made well through their love, laughter, memory, and story. Do you want to be made well?

 

Lighting a Perpetual Light for those who shine within our heart…

-Allow the congregation to say the names of those who have passed…

-When the congregation falls silent, light the Christ candle as a universal light that shines for those—named and unnamed.

-Conclude with the following poem. I composed a poem for today. Hear these words as we remember the saints in our life…

The grief is real, but so is the Comforter.

The storm will fade, the heavy shadows part,

For death is but a horizon to the heart.

They are not lost, nor have they traveled far;

They live where quiet, enduring graces are.

Their love remains, a flame that never dies,

Now breathing softly through our tearful eyes.

The chapters written in the years they stayed

Are golden legacies that will not fade.

The stories told, the quiet paths they trod,

Are safely gathered in the hands of God.

A sudden smile, a laughter sweet and clear,

Defies the passing of the fleeting year.

Time cannot touch the joy they left behind,

In treasured spaces of the heart enshrined.

So walk in peace, and let your hope awake,

For love survives the tether that must break.

They live in you, each day, in quiet ways—

A guiding light through all your coming days.

Let it be so…

 

Holy Communion:

Closing Prayer:

Our Closing Prayer will be our Congregational closing hymn found on page 241: “In the Garden.”  In your mighty name we pray, Amen.

 

Benediction:

As you go about this week, take some time to remember the saints in your life: share their story with others, cherish the memories, live out their hope, and let their light shine in your life. And let Christ make you well again. May the Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; and May the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace (Numbers 6:24-26). In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, go forth seeking ways to keep the light shining. And all God’s people said, Amen. Amen. Amen.

 

 

[1] “You live a wonderful life. A life that embraces the nature and beauty of God,” are the opening words to Angela Britt’s article from an October issue of Farm Week from 2024. You know, there is truth to her words, isn’t there. You and I, we, live a wonderful life. We live a wonderful life despite what others may say, despite the challenges that stress us out, despite the many disagreements that outweigh the agreements, despite the pain and hurt, despite the tears that fall, and despite the sorrow that lives within us all.  As a matter of fact, when was the last time you acknowledged what George Bailey figured out in 1946, that no matter what happens or how things turn out, what we have been given is a “wonderful life”? This wonderful life is something we can celebrate today because of the saints—the ones who have passed before us.

[2] It is not nearly as well known as the day before, All Hallows’ (Saints) Eve, better known as Halloween, but it is far more important in the life of the church.

[3] I would like to point out that for some it is a comfortable day, but for others it’s an emotionally tough day. All Saints Day is an opportunity to remember and give thanks for those who have gone before us in the faith, who have granted us with words of wisdom, who have left an impression on our heart, and whose smile and laughter bring light to our life. Among the remembering and giving thanks, All Saints Day is also a time of celebration. In Hebrews 12 the author encourages us to remember that a “great cloud of witnesses” surrounds us, encourages us, and cheers us on as we celebrate their life.  We are inspired to live out the legacy and story of the saints in our life by modes of celebration and remembrance. Because of the many saints who have gone before us, we have been given an eternal light that shines brightly through our ability to remember, to have hope, and to rejoice in the teachings of those who have made us into the person we are today.

[4] Today, we bring our sorrow directly into the presence of the Holy and Living God.

[5] We encounter a man paralyzingly stuck by the Pool of Bethesda. He has been suffering for thirty-eight years. He is surrounded by a multitude of others who are also hurting, suffering, and in great pain. And into this space of chronic sorrow walks Jesus on the Sabbath.

[6] Now be honest with yourself; how many of you have been asked a question but gave an answer that doesn’t really answer the question? People often dodge a direct answer when the real response might cause tension, disappointment, or a confrontation. Furthermore, the respondent may answer by redirecting the focus to a different issue or accuses the asker of something else to regain control of the narrative.

[7] During times of grief, we find ourselves sitting beside a “pool” of healing water, but it feels like nobody is there to help us, to comfort us, to care for us. We feel alone in our grief, to the point where we feel as if we can’t move, we are paralyzed. But even in those moments, Jesus is there. He is present in your grief, ready to pick you up when you are ready to be healed.

[8] Think of a lighthouse on a stormy night. The ship tossed at sea doesn’t have to illuminate the lighthouse; the lighthouse throws its beam out into the darkness to find the ship. In your grief, you do not have to summon the energy to find Jesus. He finds you. He sees the empty chair at your dinner table. He sees the tears shed in the quiet of the night when no one else is watching. He knows how long you have carried this ache.

[9] Even when the world keeps spinning, but you feel motionless, remember that Jesus is sitting right beside you ready to make you well again but not wanting to take away the memories and love of the one you are grieving over. Just because the world doesn’t stop that doesn’t mean you have to hide your grief and move with the world. There is no time frame on grief.

[10] You know it has been said that those you officiate funerals—like pastors—have to be strong for the family. That can’t cry. They can’t show emotions. Yes, they need to be strong so that they can advocate for the family during their greatest hour of need; but truth be told, pastors are human beings. There have only been one or two funeral services that I did in which I did not cry while speaking on behalf of the family. I was suffering and I was grieving with everyone else in that room. But yet, because I’m a pastor, people think that everything has to be fine.

[11] In Japan, there is an ancient art form called Kintsugi (keen-tsoo-gee). When a valuable piece of pottery breaks, the master craftsman doesn’t throw the pieces away, nor do they use clear glue to hide the cracks. Instead, they mend the fractures with a lacquer dusted with pure gold. The cracks are not hidden; they are highlighted. The vessel becomes more beautiful and stronger precisely because it was broken. When Jesus heals our grieving hearts, he doesn’t erase our scars. We carry our “mats”—our histories of loss, our cracked hearts—with us. But by his resurrection power, those cracks are filled with the golden grace of eternal hope.

[12] The apostle Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians 4:13 that we do not “grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” We do grieve—deeply and painfully—but our grief is infused with the fierce, unshakeable hope of the resurrection. We will stand again. We will laugh again. And one day, we will be reunited in the kingdom where grief is a distant memory.