10/27/2026
All Saints Sunday
About a month ago, I was at Coleharbor Cemetery near Underwood, North Dakota, for the burial of Patty Sigurdson. The cemetery sits in the vast openness of the North Dakota countryside, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. I arrived a little early, and for a while, there was nothing but silence, interrupted only by an occasional passing vehicle.
Before long, people began to arrive. One by one, nearly fifty family members and friends gathered in that quiet cemetery to remember Patty, share stories of her life, and give thanks for the ways she had touched theirs. As I listened, I was reminded that something of us continues to live in the people we have loved and those who have loved us.
Every All Saints Sunday, I return to the words of theologian Frederick Buechner and his beautiful reflections on death, memory, and the communion of saints.
Buechner speaks of "those giants of our childhood," reminding us that death may take them from us, but it cannot erase the relationships we shared. He writes: "Memory is more than looking back to a time gone by; it is looking into another kind of time altogether."
How true! The people we love continue to shape us long after they are gone. Their words, laughter, wisdom, faith, and even their imperfections become part of who we are.
So, who are the saints who have gone before us?
Who held our hands as we learned to walk? Who picked us up when we fell and bandaged our wounds? Who cupped our cheeks in their hands and kissed our faces? Who taught us to pray, to sing Amazing Grace, and to trust in God? Whose voices can we still hear? Whose wisdom continues to guide us? Whose faith helped shape our own? These are the saints we remember. Not because they were perfect, but because through their ordinary, imperfect lives, we encountered something of God's extraordinary grace. We remember not only that someone died, but that someone lived. And because they lived, our lives are different.
There is an old saying that nobody gets out of this life alive....so true. One day, our earthly journey will end. But the Christian faith invites us to face that reality in the light of a greater promise. Death is real. Grief is real. Loss is real. But death does not have the last word. Christ does. And because Christ lives, we too shall live.
Our Christian hope is not simply that those we love live on in our memories, but that they are held in the everlasting love of God. One day, we shall gather around Christ's great banquet feast, where every tear will be wiped away and death will be no more.
I think back to that quiet cemetery near Underwood. The silence. The gathering of loved ones. The stories. The tears. The gratitude. And I am reminded that even in the presence of death, love continues to speak.
This Sunday, November 1, at 10:00 AM, I invite you to join us at Charity Lutheran Church for All Saints Sunday.
Come light a candle in memory of someone you have loved and lost. Come remember the people whose lives have shaped yours. Come give thanks for their witness and celebrate the promise of life everlasting in Jesus Christ.
For all the saints who from their labors rest, thanks be to God. Their light still shines. And in Christ, so shall we.
