In the same way, it is better to go to a funeral
than a celebration.
Why? because death is the end of life’s journey,
and the living should always take that to heart.
Ecclesiastes 7:2
The Voice Bible
The Silence Between the Stones
On fine mornings, when the weather allows, I sometimes walk up to the local graveyard, sit on the bench and write. It may seem an unusual place to seek inspiration, yet few places are as peaceful. The wind moves quietly through the weeping willow, birdsong drifts between the headstones, and names carved into stone remind me that every life, however busy or important it once seemed finish their journey here.
There is something deeply calming about such places. They seem to hold the silence of sleeping souls awaiting God's promised renewal. Whether that image is entirely accurate or simply the language of a reflective mind, I cannot say. It may be no more than a passing thought, when 'passing' is the appropriate word in a graveyard.
One thing is certain. Cemeteries ask questions that shopping centres, football stadiums and television screens rarely do. They remind us that our days are numbered and quietly ask what sort of people we are becoming before our own names are engraved in stone.
Many people pass through life scarcely giving the afterlife a thought. Others assume that when death comes, they will simply drift into paradise, almost as though eternity were a prize handed out without question. Somehow they imagine that beyond death the gates simply open because, after all, they were reasonably decent people; a subjectively fluid term.
Yet that expectation has never sat comfortably with me.
If a person has never wanted to know their Creator, never desired His ways, never learned to love sacrificially, never delighted in serving Him, why would they suddenly find eternal joy in a world where God is at the very centre? Paradise is not merely a beautiful location. It is life lived in perfect fellowship with the One who made us.
If paradise is truly to be paradise, would it not need to be inhabited by people whose hearts have been shaped for such a place? Otherwise, before long, it would begin to resemble the very world from which we long to escape.
That thought often brings me to Psalm 15. It is one of those psalms that deserves to be read slowly, especially among weathered gravestones.
'LORD, who may dwell in Your sacred tent? Who may live on Your holy mountain?'
The psalm does not answer by describing a person's wealth, education, achievements or popularity. Instead, it describes character. It speaks of the one who walks blamelessly, speaks truth from the heart, keeps promises even when it is costly, refuses to slander others, rejects corruption and honours those who fear the Lord. These are not the qualifications for earning God's favour; they are the marks of a heart being shaped by knowing Him.
As I sit among those silent stones, Psalm 15 reminds me that faith is not a golden ticket tucked into a pocket. It is a life slowly transformed by the God we have come to love. Eternal life is not simply about living for ever. It is about becoming the sort of person who would feel at home in God's presence.
Perhaps that is why a graveyard is such a fitting place to read Psalm 15. It strips away illusions. It reminds us that our appointment with death is certain, while our opportunity to grow in faith, love and holiness belongs to today.
The gravestones do not preach, but they do testify. They whisper that life is brief, character matters, and every one of us must eventually answer the psalm's opening question:
'Lord, who may dwell in Your sacred tent? Who may live on Your holy mountain?'
The Voice Bible: Copyright © 2012 Thomas Nelson, Inc. The Voice™ translation © 2012 Ecclesia Bible Society All rights reserved.