Memorial Service for Jennifer Wooten
Bishop Ray Sutton

As we gather to celebrate the home-going of our beloved sister in Christ Jennifer, I recall my first real meeting of her. She had attended one of our Sunday morning services. As she left, she met me in the greeting line after the service. She took a long look at me, went, “Uhhuh, you’re all right. Good to meet you.” I took that as a compliment in the straightforward manner in which she always spoke. And she went on her way. The next time she came to church, the scene was similar. She added this time, “Uhhuh, now I know you’re all right.”

Jennifer’s words came back to me as I reflected on a Psalm from the Old Testament, Psalm 23. It meant a great deal to her. The Psalm is often read with only this life in mind. I’d like for us to think of it in terms of God’s leading us into the peace and calm of His presence. It reads, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures.” Sometimes, the green pasture to which He leads us is His heavenly pasture. The Psalmist continues, “He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”

Then the Psalmist reflects on the difficult times and struggles, the ultimate one being death itself. He writes, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” Years ago I walked up the famous Pike’s Peak with my son. I had never been on a mountain of that magnitude. I had no idea that in route to the top were little valleys. In other words, you don’t simply go straight up to get to the top. There are many ups and downs, the valleys, before you reach the heights. So is life. And what struck me about the valleys of Pike’s Peak was the darkness. There we were, thousands of feet up, closer to the sun, yet it was dark. It was scary. So it is in life, except there is one difference for the Christian. God’s presence remains with us even in the valley. Like our Good Shepherd, He reaches out His staff to remind us He’s there.

Our sister Jennifer walked through the valley of the shadow of death. Yet, I think she did so for the most part without fear. She knew that her time had come. She was courageous. She went through it with as much grace as possible. God touched her even in the valley.

The Psalm, however, doesn’t end in the valley. It concludes, “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” The author of the Psalm obviously knew what it was to enter the valleys of life. Yet he also tells us that on the other side of every valley is a banquet. Even while we’re going through the valley, God is preparing a feast for us. His mercy and goodness never leave us. We see these twins of His faithfulness return to our experience. And the time comes when we return to His table. Eventually, we go to His great heavenly banquet on the other side of the valley. And we dwell with Him forever.

With God, valleys don’t last forever. For the one with Christ, the momentary decline of the pain and suffering of this life eventually turns upward into the presence of the Lord. We make it to the top of the mountain. Our sister Jennifer has passed through the valley of the shadow of death. She’s now at the eternal feast of the Lord, resting in His presence. She dwells with Him. She’s gone home. And I think as she looks at us today, she would probably stare the way she did at me the first time I met her. But this time, instead of saying, “you’re all right,” she encourages us with, “Uhhuh, I’m all right.” She’s all right because she’s out of the valley and on the mountain at God’s glorious banquet. Amen.