Last night my church gathered for communion and a meal. It was an especially sweet time of fellowship as we gave attention to the cost and sacrifice paid for our sin. I was struck by the contradictory emotions of the evening. We grieved that it was our sin that Jesus suffered and died for, and yet we rejoiced that He gave such a sacrifice that we might live. We rejoiced in the precious gift of forgiven sin and eternal life, yet we grieved over those we know and love who remain under the wrath of God. We found great comfort in our kinship in Jesus, yet we longed for others to join us at the table. I was reminded that the cross is both a testimony of grief and joy for Christians.

This Sunday is Palm Sunday, the day we remember the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. The crowd excitedly welcomed him because they hoped he was a king like the rulers of man. But Jesus was not coming to Jerusalem to topple Rome; He was coming to destroy death. He was not arriving to respond to political grievances but to satisfy the wrath of God. He was not coming to comfort us with platitudes but to confront our sin on the cross with His own body and blood.

But when the pastor turned his attention away from eulogistic reflections and attempted to speak words of comfort, he lost his footing. I genuinely believe that he wanted to provide some consolation to those of us grieving. I have no doubt that his desire was to speak to us words to soothe our grief and assuage our sadness. In that moment of significant loss, he tried to speak of profound things that would last and had the power to alleviate our grief. But instead of comforting us with the eternal word of God, he spoke that day of things that sounded profound but were less than transcendent. He said, “your grandmother will have eternal life in your memories.” He offered as comfort the words, “your grandmother will live on and remain with you in your hearts.” He spoke these things with genuine concern and conviction. At first, they seemed to have weight and truth, but they proved to be less than helpful on reflection. Memories are sweet, but there are many things about my grandmother I never knew, and there are many things about her I have already forgotten. Keeping her “in my heart” seems, at first, to be a sweet sentiment but, on reflection, holds no lasting weight. Rather than encourage, these words cheapen the biblical truth and gospel hope. These words deny the power of the eternal God, who is able to keep His promises of bodily resurrection and eternal life, to those who have died in faith and instead places the hope of eternity in the frail and fleeting heart of man. His words were nice-sounding, but they were powerless.