+ Marie E. Poole +

“Called By Name, Kept By Grace”

Text: Isaiah 43:1–3a 25 Supplementary: Psalm 23; John 10:11–16; Revelation 7:9–17

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Dear family and friends of Marie: grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Today we gather with a very real ache in our hearts. Death does that. It leaves a silence behind it. It leaves an empty chair, an unanswered phone call, an unmade meal, and a whole lot of memories that now feel sharper than they used to.

And with grief often comes something else, too: doubt.

Not always doubt that God exists… but doubt that we can be sure of anything anymore. Doubt that peace will return. Doubt that things will ever feel normal again. Doubt that life after death is real. Doubt that our loved one is truly safe. Doubt that we will really see them again.

And into that swirl of sorrow and uncertainty, God speaks today—not with guesswork, not with vague comfort, but with His own promise:

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are Mine.” (Isaiah 43)

That was not only the Word Marie wanted to hear—it was the Word she needed to hear. And it is the Word you need to hear now.

Because God does not meet us at the grave with a shrug or a question mark. He meets us with a name… His own name…and with your name too.

1) “I have called you by name, you are Mine.”

There is a tenderness in those words. A Shepherd’s tenderness.

The world defines us by what we do. By how productive we were. By what we earned. By how impressive we looked. By whether we kept up. By whether we were strong.

But the Lord speaks differently. The Lord claims us.

And that is what He did for Marie.

Marie belonged to Jesus. She had her church home. She lived among God’s people. And like so many saints, she carried her own share of burdens, joys, troubles, and sorrow through the years. 

When I made my monthly pastoral calls to Bethel, Marie always seemed to enjoy those visits. And I often read Isaiah 43 to her because it comforted her so deeply. Not because it was poetic, but because it was true.

“Marie,” the Lord says, “You are Mine.”

And dear family and friends, this is not a weak kind of belonging. This isn’t God saying, “I’m willing to accept you if you can keep yourself together.”

No—this is God saying:

“I redeemed you. I bought you back. You are Mine because I paid for you.”

And what was the price?

Not silver or gold—but the holy, precious blood of Jesus Christ, and His innocent suffering and death.

2) “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.”

The Lord continues:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.” (Isaiah 43)

Notice what God does not say.

He doesn’t say, “If you pass through the waters.”

He says, “When.”

Because this life contains deep waters.

The waters of sickness. The waters of loneliness. The waters of fear. The waters of a nursing home room. The waters of watching life change in ways we never expected.

And now, for you—these are waters of grief.

But here is God’s promise: “I will be with you.”

That is the assurance Christians have. Not that life will be easy. Not that we will never lose anyone. Not that we will never cry.

But that in it all, you are not alone.

And that promise is not anchored in your strength—it is anchored in Christ’s faithfulness.

Jesus says in John 10:

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”

That’s not sentimental language. That’s the cross.

The Good Shepherd didn’t risk His life for His sheep. He didn’t try His best for His sheep. He laid down His life for His sheep.

And that means Marie’s salvation does not rest on how well she held on. It rests on how firmly Jesus held on to her.

3) “I, I am He who blots out your transgressions.”

And then Isaiah gives us one of the most direct, powerful Gospel sentences in all of Scripture:

“I, I am He who blots out your transgressions for My own sake, and I will not remember your sins.” (Isaiah 43)

That is what the Lord says to sinners who have nowhere else to go.

And it’s what He says to Marie.

Not: “Marie, let’s weigh the good and the bad.” Not: “Marie, let’s see if you did enough.” Not: “Marie, I hope you tried hard.”

But: 

“I blot out your transgressions.” “I will not remember your sins.”

How can God say that?

Because Jesus carried them to the cross—and He buries them in His tomb.

That is Christian assurance.

And it’s why Psalm 23 can be read today not as wishful thinking, but as certainty:

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want… Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me… and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Notice again: it doesn’t say we avoid the valley.

It says we walk through it.

And why can we fear no evil?

Because the Shepherd is with us.

4) The Shepherd leads Marie home—and He will lead you too.

Marie loved her children and grandchildren. She loved to cook. She made sure everyone had enough—sometimes more than enough. That was part of her love. It was her way of caring for people.

And even those simple, ordinary, human things—feeding others, listening well, showing warmth—those are small reflections of the God who is always giving.

But today we confess something even greater:

Marie is not simply remembered in love.

Marie is kept in love—Christ’s love.

Because the Good Shepherd who laid down His life for His sheep… is also the Shepherd who does not lose His sheep.

And that is why Revelation 7 gives us such a clear picture of Marie’s reality now:

A countless multitude before the throne of God, sheltered by the Lamb, no more hunger, no more thirst, no more tears—because:

“the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd.”

Even in heaven, Jesus is still doing what He has always done:

Shepherding. Leading. Guarding. Saving.

Dear friends, today we mourn. But not as those with no hope.

We grieve, yes.

But we grieve holding onto something stronger than our feelings:

The promise of God.

And here it is again:

“Fear not… I have called you by name… you are Mine.” “I will be with you.” “I blot out your transgressions.” “I will not remember your sins.”

Marie believed that. She was comforted by that. And now she sees what she once believed.

So today, as we lay Marie to rest, we do not pretend death is harmless.

But we also do not pretend death is final.

Because Jesus Christ is the Good Shepherd. He laid down His life for His sheep. And He took it up again.

And because He lives, Marie lives.

And because He lives, you will live also.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.