Earlier this year, the BBC reported on the trend of “happy funerals.” It noted that Monty Python’s “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” had become the United Kingdom’s most popular song played at funeral services – replacing Giuseppe Verdi’s Requiem. Funerals today seem to be less about mourning death and more about celebrating the life of the deceased.

“Keep it positive!” I was once told by a family experiencing a tragic loss. I understand that. There was a time when I wanted no sadness at my funeral. After all, why should there be? I’ll be in the arms of Jesus, truly a “better place,” with sin clutching at my heart no more. I only desired a joyous celebration, thinking especially of loved ones left behind. My thinking has changed.

As our culture discards formalities of a traditional funeral, families want to create a more personalized, and often more upbeat, experience to honor their loved one. After the celebratory service, we are encouraged to “move on,” comforted by our memories and the relief that the person is no longer in pain. But this “positive spin” must baffle people who are deep in grief.

Cheerful funerals can be hugely touching, beautiful, and even humorous. But I wonder whether they reflect the seriousness of death, the reality of eternity, and the long agony of bereavement. Christians certainly understand the impulse to celebrate even as we mourn.

A life lived with “eyes fixed on Jesus” commends the Savior to a watching world. The sure hope of resurrection and life eternal preaches the gospel to those desperate for hope. But a purely joyful focus and a push to simply celebrate can overshadow the real truth about death. It hurts. It really hurts. It was meant to hurt.

Christians both grieve and rejoice. We live in a tension of resurrection hope and a sin-cursed death. Even Jesus was not immune to the ravages of death. He cried with His friends at the grave of Lazarus. While death is not the final word for the deceased believer, it brings a full range of heartaches to those left behind. Jesus’ response shows us that the resurrection promise does not exempt us from deep sadness over death. He knew, more than anyone, we cannot glory in the Resurrection without grieving first over the Crucifixion and our sin that put Jesus on the cross.

To experience the joy of Easter, we need to digest and endure the painful truth of Good Friday. Our sin is that deep. That serious.

We know the truth of Easter, but we still feel the pain. We feel it when loved ones lose physical and mental capacities. We feel it when we no longer have that hand to hold, that shoulder to cry on, that smile to treasure, that baby to nurse. Our bodies ache as we say goodbye.

For the non-Christian, the pull to reclaim some aspect of death is particularly strong. If we simply celebrate the life of the deceased, throw a party in their honor, or refrain from too much grieving, then perhaps the reality of death won’t sting quite so much. The unknown status of a loved one’s soul, together with fear over death itself, make “celebrations of life” appealing alternatives to the grief of a funeral. Keeping it positive avoids the head-on collision with the pain of grief.

As Christians, the older we get the more we appreciate the need to hold this tension. Watching loved ones die, mourning with friends who lose their dear ones, and facing the ever-present reality of aging in our own bodies, we know that this life is coming to a swift end day by day.

We grieve over this fact. Yet we also trust the hope of a resurrected body for all who cling to Jesus who did both.

This Jesus, who wept over the reality of death, sent blood rushing through the cold veins of Lazarus once again. He promises us resurrection life to these our mortal bodies on the Last Day.

Death is imminent. The sting of death is our sin. But our Easter is coming. Alleluia!