My funeral, a royal wedding

Solemn, heavy, silent . Monks mumble and hum inaudible hums in some ancient language. Everyone circles his coffin, take one last look at his face with overly excessive make-up, and cries. I wish I could say he looked like he was resting in peace, but no. He just looked sad. And unnaturally tanned.

His brother, a colleague and some friends share memories of their beloved lost one. We watch picture after picture of his short but colourful life.

Everyone leaves in silence and mourning.



I left thinking how I would want my funeral to be the exact opposite of what I had just attended. So friends, I put my faith in you, that if ever I have the privilege of going earlier that you, you would make the following happen:

My funeral should be full of song and dance and celebration.

No one should wear black, but everyone should dress a fabulously and as colourfully as they can.

The only tears allowed are tears of joy.

There should be NO testimony about how great a person other people might have thought I had. Only testimonies of how great Jesus Christ is and what he offers his children.

Worship songs should be led by an awesome worship team.

All my family and friends, Christians and non-Christians, should attend.

There should be cake, a lot of cake. Many different flavours of cake. And then all leftover cake must be given away to the poor and homeless.

All my possessions should be sold and given to the poor, along with the cake.

My funeral should be as big as a royal wedding.

When we arrive at eternity's shore,
Where death is just a memory and tears are no more;
We'll enter in as the wedding bells ring,
Your bride will come together and we'll sing
You're beautiful...