How can people celebrate at a funeral?

“For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” —Ephesians 2:10 (ESV)

On this day of the Lord, I went with half of our team to the funeral of a 4-year-old boy whose body had finally given way to cancer. The ripple effect of a child’s faith was fully on display—as was the loving kindness of the God who created him.

Our team had welcomed this little guy through a group called Team Impact. Team Impact connects children with teams and communities who can come alongside them and their families as they walk through the hardships our bodies often endure. Because he loved soccer, we had the opportunity to bring him into our family. He came to our games, sat on the sidelines, and brought nothing but joy, energy, and love into our locker room. The team fully embraced him—he was one of us in every way, shape, and form. We even held a signing day for him.

Cancer continued to attack his body until, ultimately, God called him home. We all knew it was likely, but when the call came that he had been “born into eternity,” it shook us.
“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” —Psalm 34:18

The service was held at a small country church, surrounded by beautiful countryside, farms, and the people who worked the land. The drive took about an hour, and during that time I had space to pray. I intentionally asked, “God, what do you want me to know about this? Is there anything you want me to do?”
“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” —James 1:5

As we pulled into the small church, the ripple effect of this little boy’s life hit me hard. Though the building might have seated 150 people, cars and trucks were parked everywhere—in the fields, along the roadside, in the churchyard. Hundreds. It was immediately clear that the community—and far beyond—had been deeply touched by this child.

As we stepped out of our cars, I tried to steady myself. He was only four years old. A small coffin. Young siblings. Young parents. A whole community showing up to stand with them.
“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” —Romans 12:15

There was a long line to get into the church. As we approached, the funeral director asked if we were with the soccer team. When we said yes, he led us straight to the front three rows—across from where his parents would sit. Many of our players had arrived before me, and I was overwhelmed to see how many had come—including five graduates. People were standing in the back, packed into the overflow room downstairs, and even spilling out the back door. All of them were there to celebrate the life of a child of God who hadn’t yet reached his fifth birthday.

As the pastors spoke, they shared memories filled with joy and smiles. They made it clear how deeply this little one loved Jesus, and how unwavering his faith had been. People cried. They laughed. They smiled and hugged one another. Stories, pictures, and videos revealed just how strong and pure his love for Jesus was. Even as cancer ravaged his body, he was comforting others—proclaiming the love of God to his nurses. He never wavered.
“Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” —Matthew 19:14
“Even a child makes himself known by his acts, by whether his conduct is pure and upright.” —Proverbs 20:11

As we left the church and walked to the small cemetery next door, I was struck again by the number of people present. I tried to count, but people were still streaming out from every direction. I got to 400 quickly—and that was just the beginning. My guess is that over 1,000 people came to honor the impact of a boy who lived only 1,460 days on this earth.

So I asked again: “Lord, what do you want me to know?”

And what I heard in my heart was this:

We are His workmanship.
Broken bodies. Four-year-olds. Farmers. City dwellers. The healthy and the hurting.
All made for His good works.  Ephesians 2:10

This little boy had a vast impact—not because of anything the world would count as power, but because he was God’s workmanship, created for a purpose. He shared Christ’s love with nurses in a cancer unit. He taught our young athletes the joy of giving, the sting of death, and the beauty of God’s grace.

When people asked me what the service was like, my answer was simple:

It was the mysteries of God on full display. A demonstration of faith in action.

How can people celebrate at a funeral?
Only when the promises of God are true.
Only when those promises are revealed through the Holy Spirit.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” —Galatians 5:22–23
“We do not grieve as others do who have no hope.” —1 Thessalonians 4:13

Think about that—the only way joy could exist in that sanctuary was because the Spirit testified to the truth: this little boy was created by God, for God, and is now with God.

Only God can take sorrow and turn it into joy.
Only He can take a body broken by disease and give it a new one — one that runs and jumps for eternity.
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more… for the former things have passed away.” —Revelation 21:4
“The perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality.” —1 Corinthians 15:53

I pray to day that you ask God to show you the truth…that you are his workmanship.