It may be that the most important element of effective communication is repetition, even while it is the most unappreciated. We tend to arrogantly claim that we only need to hear things once. When a parent repeats an instruction, children roll their eyes. When a boss repeats a familiar command, employees complain that it is superfluous. When a teacher reviews material already taught, students complain they already know the material. We tend to believe we can receive information or commands and never again need a reminder or renewed encouragement.

But when the pastor turned his attention away from eulogistic reflections and attempted to speak words of comfort, he lost his footing. I genuinely believe that he wanted to provide some consolation to those of us grieving. I have no doubt that his desire was to speak to us words to soothe our grief and assuage our sadness. In that moment of significant loss, he tried to speak of profound things that would last and had the power to alleviate our grief. But instead of comforting us with the eternal word of God, he spoke that day of things that sounded profound but were less than transcendent. He said, “your grandmother will have eternal life in your memories.” He offered as comfort the words, “your grandmother will live on and remain with you in your hearts.” He spoke these things with genuine concern and conviction. At first, they seemed to have weight and truth, but they proved to be less than helpful on reflection. Memories are sweet, but there are many things about my grandmother I never knew, and there are many things about her I have already forgotten. Keeping her “in my heart” seems, at first, to be a sweet sentiment but, on reflection, holds no lasting weight. Rather than encourage, these words cheapen the biblical truth and gospel hope. These words deny the power of the eternal God, who is able to keep His promises of bodily resurrection and eternal life, to those who have died in faith and instead places the hope of eternity in the frail and fleeting heart of man. His words were nice-sounding, but they were powerless.

As adults, we often pay little attention to the seemingly insignificant moments we spend with children. We, in our adult sophistication, assume that their attention to the moment is as dull as our own. Yet, when we return to these places that hold such prominence in our childhood memories, we seldom recall the momentous occasions that made the paper or were recorded in the scrapbook.