Funeral Sermon For Unknown Person

The Judge Of All The Earth Does Right

We gather today under the weight of grief. That weight is real, and no one in this room needs to pretend otherwise. Sorrow is not a sign of weak faith. It is a sign of love, and love is a good thing. Even Jesus wept. We will come to that in a moment.

Before we open the Scriptures, I want to say something plainly. I am not going to stand here and tell you things I do not know. I am not going to manufacture a tidy story about the person we are remembering today, and I am not going to offer you comfort built on ground that cannot hold. What I am going to do is open the Word of God, because that Word is true, and it speaks directly into the kind of grief and uncertainty that many of us are carrying right now. If you came here today with questions, with a heavy heart, or with doubts you have never said out loud, you are in the right place. The Bible does not ask you to pretend.

Let us hear from three passages of Scripture.

Psalm 103, verses 8 through 14, in the Christian Standard Bible: "The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in faithful love. He will not always accuse us or be angry forever. He has not dealt with us as our sins deserve or repaid us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his faithful love toward those who fear him. As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him. For he knows what we are made of, remembering that we are dust."

Genesis 18, verse 25: "You could not possibly do such a thing: to kill the righteous with the wicked, treating the righteous and the wicked alike. You could not possibly do that. Won't the Judge of all the earth do what is right?"

John 11, verses 32 through 36: "When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and told him, 'Lord, if you had been here, my brother wouldn't have died.' When Jesus saw her crying, and the Jews who had come with her crying, he was deeply moved in his spirit and troubled. 'Where have you put him?' he asked. 'Lord,' they told him, 'come and see.' Jesus wept. So the Jews said, 'See how he loved him.'"

This is the Word of God.

The Weight We Carry

Grief does not arrive in an orderly way. It comes in waves, sometimes at the worst possible moments, sometimes when you least expect it. And grief is made heavier when questions travel alongside it. Questions like: Was this person ready? Did they believe? Where are they now? Those questions are not disrespectful. They are human. They are honest. And they deserve an honest answer rather than a cheerful deflection.

The honest answer is this: I do not know the full condition of another person's heart before God, and neither does anyone else in this room. Only God knows that. But here is what I do know, and it comes directly from the text we just read.

The God Who Judges Rightly

In Genesis 18, Abraham is standing before God, pleading on behalf of the city of Sodom. He is not arguing with God so much as he is appealing to God's own character. And the question Abraham asks is one of the most important questions in all of Scripture: "Won't the Judge of all the earth do what is right?"

That question is not a challenge. It is a confession of faith. Abraham is saying, in effect, I trust you. I trust that you will not be unjust. I trust that your judgment is not arbitrary, not cruel, not careless. I trust that you see everything I cannot see, and that what you decide will be right.

That same confidence belongs to every person in this room today. The one who stands in judgment over every human life is not a cold bureaucrat. He is not indifferent. He is not looking for reasons to condemn. He is the God who, as Psalm 103 declares, is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in faithful love. He is the God who knows what we are made of. He remembers that we are dust.

That phrase stops me every time I read it. He remembers that we are dust. God is not surprised by human frailty. He is not shocked by weakness or failure or the complicated, unfinished nature of a human life. He made us. He knows us. And his judgment is shaped by a knowledge of us that goes deeper than anything any person in this room could offer.

You do not need to defend the person you loved today. You do not need to build a case. You need to entrust them to the Judge of all the earth, who does what is right. That is not a small comfort. That is a profound one.

The God Who Weeps With Us

But there is more. Turn to John 11. Lazarus has died. Mary comes to Jesus, falls at his feet, and says the words that grief always wants to say: Lord, if you had been here, this would not have happened. It is not an accusation. It is a lament. It is the raw sound of a heart that loved someone and lost them.

And what does Jesus do? He does not immediately move to the miracle. He does not say, stop crying, everything is fine. He asks where Lazarus has been laid. He walks toward the tomb. And then, standing in the presence of human grief, the Son of God weeps.

The people watching said, "See how he loved him." They recognized something true. Jesus was not performing sympathy. He was genuinely moved. He was troubled in his spirit. The grief of the people around him became his own grief.

That is who Jesus is. He is not distant from your pain today. He is not waiting for you to compose yourself before he will listen. He is present in this room, and he is moved by what you are carrying. You are not alone in your grief. You have never been alone in it.

The Gospel That Holds Us

And yet Jesus did not stay at the tomb weeping. He called Lazarus out of the grave. He said, "I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me, even if he dies, will live." That claim stands over every funeral. It is the only claim that can.

Jesus went to his own death and came out the other side. He is not a teacher who offered comfort from a safe distance. He entered death, defeated it, and rose again. The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the foundation of every Christian hope. Without it, we have nothing to offer in a room like this. With it, we have everything.

If you are here today and you have never placed your trust in Jesus Christ, I want to speak to you simply and directly. Not to pressure you, but because this moment has a way of making clear what actually matters. The same God who is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in faithful love, has made a way for you. That way is Jesus. He died in the place of sinners. He rose from the dead. He offers forgiveness and life to everyone who comes to him in faith. That offer is open today.

If you want to know more, please speak with a pastor or a trusted believer before you leave today. The door is open.

A Word To Those Who Grieve

For those of you who loved the person we are remembering today, I want to close with this. You are not required to have all the answers. You are not required to feel a peace you do not feel yet. Grief takes time, and God is patient with grieving people. He knows what you are made of too.

Entrust what you cannot know to the God who knows everything. Entrust what you cannot fix to the God who holds all things. And hold on to this: the Judge of all the earth does what is right. That has always been true. It is true today.

Let us pray.

Sources Consulted

Allen P. Ross. A Commentary on the Psalms, Volume 3. Kregel Academic, 2016.

Gordon J. Wenham. Genesis 16-50. Word Biblical Commentary. Word Books, 1994.

Andreas J. Kostenberger. John. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament. Baker Academic, 2004.

Derek Kidner. Psalms 73-150. Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries. InterVarsity Press, 1975.

D. A. Carson. The Gospel According to John. Pillar New Testament Commentary. Eerdmans, 1991.