The rider-less horse prances, restless in the midst of the crowds and the noise. It leads a long procession through thousands of people who are watching, thousands who are weeping. If you are old enough to remember that image, you will know that it comes from the funeral procession for John F. Kennedy, the American president assassinated in 1963. It was a powerful image of loss, an image of death.
We all have images of funerals in our minds ? images we have witnessed as the rituals of death are played out. I watched another ritual on television once and sat up to take notice. The funeral procession wasn't led by a rider-less horse, but by a band major tossing his baton and a trumpeter playing his heart out. I like that image. When I die I want a parade.

I want a parade that doesn't signify loss but victory; a parade where the band leader tosses his baton high and steps lively. I want those watching to take notice, not of one whose death is causing sorrow and mourning, but of One who has conquered death and made it into a celebration.

I know that's possible because I believe in . . .

The rider-less horse prances, restless in the midst of the crowds and the noise. It leads a long procession through thousands of people who are watching, thousands who are weeping. If you are old enough to remember that image, you will know that it comes from the funeral procession for John F. Kennedy, the American president assassinated in 1963. It was a powerful image of loss, an image of death.
We all have images of funerals in our minds ? images we have witnessed as the rituals of death are played out. I watched another ritual on television once and sat up to take notice. The funeral procession wasn't led by a rider-less horse, but by a band major tossing his baton and a trumpeter playing his heart out. I like that image. When I die I want a parade.

I want a parade that doesn't signify loss but victory; a parade where the band leader tosses his baton high and steps lively. I want those watching to take notice, not of one whose death is causing sorrow and mourning, but of One who has conquered death and made it into a celebration.

I know that's possible because I believe in a living God who is supreme. ?He was supreme in the beginning and ? leading the resurrection parade ? he is supreme in the end? (Colossians 1:13-25; The Message). Because He is supreme, death has no hold on Him, and because of His sacrifice for us, it has no hold on us.

I have heard about a funeral where, at the beginning of the service, a lone trumpet sounded taps, the well-known signal at the end of the day, then at the end of the service, the same trumpet sounded the reveille, the signal of awakening. That is a fitting symbol of the reality of death for a believer, because believers will experience resurrection, just as Jesus did. The Apostle Paul told the Corinthians about this ? 'the body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raise in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body? (1 Corinthians 15: 42-44).

For a believer, there is a grand awakening. For a believer, death means a glorious reunion with the One whose love keeps us all. For ?When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, the saying that is written will come true: 'death has been swallowed up in victory.? ? (Isaiah 25:8; 1Corinthians 15:47).

When I die I want a parade. A resurrection parade.

Marcia Laycock is a pastor's wife and freelance writer living in Alberta Canada.  Her devotional book, The Spur of the Moment has been endorsed by Janette Oke, Phil Callaway and others.  To order, and to view more of Marcia's writing, see her web site - www.vinemarc.com
Copyright Marcia Lee Laycock, 2000, 2001,2002,2003,2004,2005