Jeremy L. Berg

We celebrated the life of my Uncle Gary a couple weeks back. I was privileged to participate in the service, along with my kids and other grand nieces and nephews. Peter and I led us in some hymns, and we performed “Go Rest High On That Mountain” (without breaking down, somehow). I shared the sermon and am including the transcript below for anyone interested. Grace and peace. -JB

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FUNERAL SERMON

“LOOKING FOR THE LIVING ONE AMONG THE DEAD”

July 26, 2025

Uncle Gary was a steady, quiet presence in all of our lives. Being single without children, he adopted all of us nieces and nephews as his kids. When he moved to the cities in the early 80s, he built a house just down the road from us. He and dad bought a boat together, and I remember watching in amazement as we pulled him on one ski behind the boat. He attended our baseball and basketball games. He quietly showed up and cheered us all on in all aspects of life. He would spoil us at Christmas with the best gifts, and when we were older we nieces and nephews could always count on finding a crisp Benjamin Franklin tucked into our Christmas card. 

Gary loved the outdoors, wide open country, sunsets on the prairies, motorcycle trips out west, country music concerts, laughing with friends, and despite his shy nature, quite a bit of country line dancing back in the day. (My wife giggles recalling her introduction to the Berg family at my Grandma’s Birthday party where she ended up face to face doing the polka with Uncle Gary.) And, of course, a highlight of every year was hunting in the fall with basically everyone in the family but ME! (That’s right, you might think the pastor in the family would be the white sheep, but being the only non-hunter I feel more like the black sheep of the family every fall.) 

Gary took special delight in his grandnieces and grandnephews. He followed their lives and activities closely on Facebook, and clung to that iPad, “liking” and commenting until the very end. My son Peter received a birthday card from Gary just 18 hours before he took his last breath (he had carefully prepared them all before going to the hospital). When I came to see him on what would be his last day, I found him too weak to hold the iPad. There it lay on his lap, just out of reach—a sad sight. Now cut off from everyone he loved in this world, it was time to go. 

Long before I gave my life to studying and preaching the Scriptures, a Bible story came to life in the company of Uncle Gary, my dad and brother one summer afternoon. I was probably 6 or 7 years old. We were fishing in Grandpa Berg’s little 12-foot boat on Lake Minnetonka when a storm suddenly rolled in resembling the squall the disciples experienced on the Sea of Galilee. In the Bible stories, Jesus sleeps peacefully in the storm, while the disciples pull their hair out in fear, before Jesus calms the winds and waves with a command. In another story, Jesus calls Peter to step out of the boat in faith and walk upon the stormy waters with his Lord.

But in our case, there would be no one walking on water or sleeping calmly through the storm. We pulled anchor and pushed that little 6 horse motor to the limit as we skipped and bounced upon the angry waves all the way back to the dock. We survived that storm and now it’s a fun memory.

About a decade later a much dark, more sinister storm would surprise Gary when he was diagnosed with cancer at just 38 years old. Those waves would be much higher, and those winds much stronger. And Gary would need more than a 6 horse Johnson to carry him through this storms. Gary would need Jesus in the back of his boat, and he would need the faith of Peter to step out onto the waves and trust Jesus to keep him from sinking into despair. 

We are all here today to celebrate and bear witness to the fact that Gary’s faith did remain strong and Jesus did remain faithfully at his side through all the difficult storms that he would face in the coming years. A few weeks ago, I asked Gary how his faith was impacted by his original cancer diagnosis, knowing full well that some people grow bitter and angry at God when dealt such a difficult hand. Gary said it  brought him closer to God, and made his faith stronger. It brought him back to church. He also emphasized how the prayers and support of so many friends and family who are here today got him through it all.  

And it is fitting that we have gathered here today at Fron Lutheran, the church where Gary was baptized and confirmed, attended and served for so many years. One of the treasures I found in Gary’s apartment was a little booklet presented to him by his pastors at his Confirmation here in about 1973. In it, Pastor Halvorson and Pastor Oldenburg, plead with Gary to remember his confirmation vows in the coming years. Let me read a few lines:

“As you begin to make your way through life, there will be a thousand voices trying to tell you to forget your confirmation vows. There will be sins in your life. There will be temptations. All the world outside of your church will conspire to persuade you to lay aside the burning memory of the day of your confirmation. But you will remember! You will remember when you stood up and took your place beside your Savior forever. You will remember the voice of your pastor pleading with you to be faithful unto death… And whenever any sin or trouble or temptation in your life threatens to make you forget this day, you will run to Him who said: “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.”

As a pastor myself, I was most moved by the following words from his pastors: 

“Gary, I have spent many hours telling you what God has done for you and what you can do with God and for God. I have shown you the way to heaven. I have prayed for you. One day I must stand before God and tell Him about you. What shall I tell Him? Shall I have to say that you soon forgot your Confirmation Day, forgot Him, forgot His church? Or shall I be able to stand up boldly and say that you remembered Him all the days of your life and that you are now standing before His throne, one of the great number of His redeemed?”

Friends, I can say without a doubt that Gary made his pastors proud, and he clung to the faith he confirmed 50+ years ago, and he now stands before the throne and is numbered among the redeemed. I was privileged to spend many hours with Gary in the hospital these past several weeks—singing country songs and old hymns, hearing stories about the old days, looking at old photo albums, and most importantly talking about the promises of Jesus. I saw Gary’s faith on display and he amazed the medical staff at Mayo with his calm and blessed assurance, his patience and politeness in very difficult circumstances.

In Gary’s later years, he faithfully served his church by helping out at the cemetery. The average American today is uncomfortable in cemeteries, and avoids them as much as possible. They are seen as places of sadness and loss and longing. But I think cemeteries can be transformed into places of hope, anticipation and even beauty when seen through the eyes of faith. 

I have spent some time pondering Gary’s humble role serving out at the cemetery, and I want to draw our attention to the scene in Luke 24 where the women think they are going to a funeral, to a cemetery, to grieve over the dead. They too probably wished to be going anywhere but to that gloomy tomb on that Sunday morning long ago.  But instead they encounter angels who pose a question that I want us to ponder as we go forth from this service today and out to the cemetery. The angels said:

“Why do you look for the Living among the dead? He is not here, he is risen!” (Luke 24)

The angels’ message is essentially, “Cheer up! This story doesn’t end in death, but new resurrected Life! You came here today to weep over a corpse, but surprise-surprise, He’s not here; he’s alive!” The same promise holds for us today: we weep and grieve and will commit Gary to the ground in a bit; but we all know “He is not here”—He is with God in Heaven, and on the final day he will be given a new and perfectly healthy body in God’s New Creation Garden. So, the words of the angel are appropriate in one sense. 

However, in another sense, I want to question the angels’ question: “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” I want to suggest that so long as we live out our days on earth among the dead and the dying—which is all of us, by the way—we do well to be always looking for signs of the Living One, the Resurrected Christ, among us in this land of shadows. And He does walk among us, promising to be with us—even to the end of the age.

We must look for the Living Christ in a world full of heartache and loss. 

We must look for the Living Christ among the tears of parents whose children were recently swept away in the Texas floods. 

We must look for the Living Christ among the ashes of devastating fires, the ruins of tsunamis, and the rubble of earthquakes.

We must look for the Living Christ in the midst of broken marriages, broken promises, broken governments, broken dreams. 

Psalm 23 tells is to look for the Living God as we pass through the valley of the shadow of death because our shepherd is with us—“his rod and his staff they comfort us.”

Our family strained our eyes to see the Living Christ in the ICU for 31 days when our 10-year old son was fighting for his life. 

And Gary learned to look for, and I believe found, the Living Christ roaming the halls of the cancer ward among the weary patients, caring doctors and tireless nurses.

Gary had the eyes to see and the faith to cling to the Living One in all of his dark nights and most violent storms. And because of that faith, to quote Psalm 23, “Surely, God’s goodness and mercy followed him all the days of his life”—the good and the difficult.  

Do you have that same assurance and hope? Might we all learn to look more intently for the Living One in the midst of our life’s storms? 

The lesson I’m taking from Gary’s work in keeping Fron cemetery beautiful and well maintained is this: Gary wasn’t afraid of death. He wasn’t spooked out by grave stones. He spent an entire week in the hospital designing his own headstone, wanting it to be just right. Gary was familiar with freshly dug grave plots. He was not in denial about his own mortality. Cancer forced him to face that fact long ago. Gary faced down Death with Resurrection defiance when he was 38 years old, and he boldly faced Death again in these last days. As I’m going to sing in just a bit, 

“We know his life on earth was troubled

And only he could know the pain

He wasn’t afraid to face the devil

He was no stranger to the rain.”

But rain makes a garden grow and rain helps keep cemeteries green. So, in light of Gary’s Resurrection Hope, he made sure weeds weren’t covering the names on the graves of the saints because they will someday rise again. He made sure the cemetery was tidy and mowed, because we don’t want it looking disheveled if Jesus decided to return tomorrow. Gary said he often put flowers on his grandparents’ grave, even though he never knew them.

A beautiful, living flower full of color placed on a cold, gray headstone—that about sums up the paradox of faith and the hope of the Resurrection. We believe in the God who brings beauty from ashes. Light out of darkness. Life from the grave. 

Now Gary is feasting with and getting to know his grandparents in Heaven, perhaps seated in a garden full of the same flowers he placed on the grave through the years. Perhaps they’re even enjoying lutefisk together if St. Peter allows that smell inside the pearly gates! 

In closing, I find it interesting that in John’s Gospel, the account of the women coming to the tomb has a different focus, a peculiar, fascinating detail. They encounter Jesus among the graves, but they do not recognize him. Why? We’re told they mistake him for the gardener. That’s right! In the end Jesus looked a lot like a humble cemetery caretaker. 

In the end, Jesus looked a lot like Gary.

In the end, Gary looked a lot like Jesus.  

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After the committal ceremony at the cemetery, we all ended up back at the family cabin on the farm where Gary spent so many happy days over the years. The cousins rode four wheelers and the adults visited and told stories. Gary would have LOVED knowing that’s where his Celebration of Life ended. Here’s some photos — I especially get a kick out of the one of my dad (Gary’s closest friend and supportive brother) in his funeral attire on the four-wheeler. :)

Rest in peace Gary, and rise in glory.

You can watch the service HERE. Scroll down to video.

This is the song by Vince Gill I sang at the funeral. It’s a legendary moment country music history, when Vince sang it at George Jones’s funeral and broke down midway. I someone held it together.