TERENCE JOHNSON

MEMORIAL

Two thousand years ago, Jesus and His disciples were having a reality-shifting conversation. For about three years, the disciples had closely followed Jesus. They walked together. Ate together. Laughed together. Prayed together. You name it—they did it all together.

This wasn’t a casual relationship. This was life-on-life. Day after day. Step after step. The disciples didn’t just listen to Jesus—they built their entire lives around Him. Their schedules. Their hopes. Their expectations for the future.

But in the middle of this conversation, Jesus shifts the room. He breaks the news of His soon departure.

The disciples were confused. Maybe frustrated. Angry, even. Because how do you process words like going away when you thought the story was just getting started? Questions were swirling around their heads before loss had even arrived.

And Peter, one of the more vocal disciples, finally speaks up and asks, “Lord, where are You going?”

Peter isn’t just questioning. He’s crying from his heart. You can almost hear both the curiosity and the pain in his voice. What happens to us? What happens now?

Thankfully, Jesus doesn’t leave Peter—or the rest of the disciples—empty-handed. In His response, we are given one of the most beautiful and comforting passages in all of Scripture.

John 14:1–4 says, “Let not your hearts be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.”

Notice where Jesus begins. Not with explanation. Not with a timeline. He begins with the heart: “Let not your hearts be troubled.”

A troubled heart isn’t easy to deal with—especially during a time of loss, just like the one we’re all in right now. You can be having a completely normal day—going to work, running errands, doing life—and then in an instant, trouble comes.

Grief floods your heart. Everything feels heavier. Your thoughts slow down and speed up at the same time. And you don’t always have the words to explain what you’re feeling—because grief doesn’t ask for permission before it arrives.

You try to muscle it down. You try to stay strong. But no matter how hard you try, the weight feels like too much to carry. Some people distract themselves. Some people numb themselves. Anything to quiet the ache.

But it is to this heart—overwhelmed, tired, grieving—that Jesus speaks.

You see, your troubled heart is doing something honest. It’s longing. Like a child crying out in the night, your heart is reaching for something—Someone. And while we try to fill that longing with things like success, routine, or possessions, it never quite works.

Because deep down, our hearts know something our minds struggle to accept—this isn’t the end of the story.

Today, we honor the life of Terence Johnson. A loving husband. A proud father. A son of the Most High. And we can be assured that we will see Terence again. Why? Because he deeply loved his Jesus.

Jesus doesn’t tell the disciples that death won’t hurt. He doesn’t say goodbye won’t be painful. What He promises is presence—and a future. A future where separation is temporary, where pain is temporary, where death is temporary.

That’s the hope we hold onto today. That Terence is at rest—peaceful, safe—waiting for the voice of Jesus that wakes, not startles. Waiting for the moment when sleep gives way to joy.

And when Jesus speaks about coming again, He speaks with urgency and intention. Later in Scripture, Jesus says, “I am coming quickly.” And that word “quickly” isn’t passive. It’s not Jesus sitting back, watching the clock.

In the original language, it carries the sense of action. Like someone already on their way.

It’s kind of like when you’re at home, and you forgot to defrost the chicken… and then you hear, “I’m on my way home.”

That doesn’t mean eventually. That means move. Do something. I’m already coming.

That’s the promise of Jesus. Not distant. Not delayed. But active. Certain.

Yes, our world is full of injustice—but Jesus is on His way. Yes, our society feels like it’s unraveling—but Jesus is on His way. Yes, our hearts are deeply troubled—but Jesus is on His way.

And very soon, we will be reunited with Terence. Very soon, we will be reunited with our Jesus. And that reunion won’t be rushed. It won’t be interrupted. It will be for all time.

For eternity, we will walk together. Eat together. Laugh together. Pray together. You name it—we will do it all together.

Until that day, may we place our troubled hearts in the hands of our Jesus. Not because it’s easy—but because He is faithful. Because He understands grief. Because He knows us better than we know ourselves.

Amen and amen. Let us pray.

COMMITTAL

As we gather here to commit the body of our beloved Terrance to the earth, we do so with hope and faith rooted deeply in the promises of Scripture.

The Apostle Paul, writing to the Thessalonians, offers words of comfort to all who grieve:

"But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus. For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord will by no means precede those who are asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words." (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 NKJV)

And again, in his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul reveals the mystery and victory of the resurrection:

"Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed— in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory.’ O Death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?’ (The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law.) But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."* (1 Corinthians 15:51-55 NKJV)

Brother Terrance’s body is returned to the earth, as we honor the natural order God established. The breath that God gave him returns to Him. But we rejoice in the sure hope that his body will be raised and transformed on the day of resurrection.

May these promises comfort our hearts today — that death is not the end, but a doorway to eternal life with Jesus Christ our Lord.

We commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.

Amen.