“For we know that if our earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal dwelling in the heavens, not made with hands. Indeed, we groan in this tent, desiring to put on our heavenly dwelling, since, when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. Indeed, we groan while we are in this tent, burdened as we are, because we do not want to be unclothed but clothed, so that mortality may be swallowed up by life. Now the one who prepared us for this very purpose is God, who gave us the Spirit as a down payment.” (2 Corinthians 5:1-5 – CSB – Read the chapter)

This life doesn’t last forever. That is one of those truths about which everyone is supremely confident. There’s a reason we have the saying that the only two sure things in life are death and taxes. Now, yes, there are some folks who are theorizing about things like transhumanism and the notion that we can somehow achieve immortality, but even they will wind up facing the veil at some point. These efforts toward immortality remind us that the sheer finitude of life really does bother us. It bothers us because something deep in our bones screams that this is not how things are supposed to be. Well, what we know as followers of Jesus is that this sense is right. It is right because we were made in the image of a God who is eternal. And when we accept by faith that the things Jesus said about this world and the next are true, the fear and loathing death often brings all but vanish. I recently said goodbye to my friend Joyce. She knew all of this very well. As a result, her transition from this life to the start of the next was different from most. Let me tell you about it.

Joyce Little was one of those rare people who was both an institution and a force of nature. She had a will of iron, but it was wrapped in a thick layer of velvet. She was warm and personable with everyone she met. She took an active interest in you and what you had going on. She was kind and generous with her resources. When she supported something or someone, there was no such thing with her as a half-hearted commitment. And while she was typically pretty clear on what she wanted (and she was usually right), the thing that most motivated her was a desire to leverage what she had for the sake of those around her. She always wanted to do what she believed was best for those around. She pursued this desire primarily in three different places over the course of her life: her family, her church, and her community. Joyce was fiercely dedicated to all three. Yet hers was not merely a dedication that she felt but otherwise didn’t do much with. She threw herself into actively advocating for and advancing the interests of anyone within one of her spheres of influence.

When it came to her family, she was effusively proud of her kids and grandkids. Rarely did I have a conversation with her that did not involve her going out of her way to tell me about what all four of her grandkids were doing and why she was so very proud of each one of them. She delighted in getting to see them whenever she could, especially as one of them pursued opportunities that took her a long ways from Oakboro. That her daughters (two by birth and one extra by love) and her sons-in-law had raised such great kids was another thing she loved to crow about. In the same way, there was rarely a time I saw her when she didn’t tell me how lucky she was to have Wiley as her husband. She boasted about what a good man he was and more specifically about what a good and loving husband he was to her. As the cancer that brought her journey here to an end began to advance and the treatments she pursued to fight it sapped her strength, this man from a generation in which men did men’s work and women did women’s work and the two rarely crossed into each other’s lanes learned how to cook and clean so he could take care of her. That kind of dedication is a testament to his own character and what helped carry the two of them through 62 years of marriage.

Her love for her beloved Oakboro community spurred her to serve and support it in numerous ways. She was the mayor for a total of 18 years over a couple of different stretches. During that time she led it faithfully and well and oversaw numerous improvements and advancements for the small town. In a time when so many small towns are looking inward and dying, Oakboro looks up and out and is thriving for it. Much of the credit for this lies with Joyce and her visionary, selfless leadership. Over the course of her service she played a big role in bringing a major industry to town and was a loud supporter of its police and fire departments, and especially the K9 unit. Her house is not one anyone is going to accidentally drive by, but she nonetheless has one sign in her yard: this house proudly supports the Oakboro K9 Unit. She made a point of asking me if it would be okay for our K9 Sergeant to bring his dog Joker to her service in the church. I knew better than to say anything other than yes.

But perhaps the thing that most motivated her throughout her life was her commitment to her church, a commitment that was motivated by her deep and abiding faith in Jesus. She loved her church, First Baptist Oakboro. And, like every other love in her life, her love went beyond words and feelings. It was active as she served in numerous capacities over the years. She wanted what was best for the church in all things. Her two most passionate roles, though, were her service as the church moderator, helping to lead the business of the church with grace and generous determination, and her leadership of the social committee.

She along with a dear friend of hers not only took great pains in making sure the church community was strong through many sweet times of fellowship (and as the pastor, I can attest to the incredible success of her efforts in this direction), but she raised up a group of younger ladies to carry on her mantle when she couldn’t do it anymore. And she always wanted things to look nice. There was no use putting on a shabby event in Joyce’s mind. But this didn’t mean everything had to be expensive either. She was well known for being frugal in her efforts so that the church could direct more of its resources to missions and other kingdom-advancing causes. Perhaps the most well-known symbol of this was her insistence on reusing plastic tablecloths after an event was over. She would wipe them down so they were clean, fold them up (and I’m not sure anyone knows how to neatly fold up a round tablecloth as well as she did), and store them until the next fellowship event. When I got here, the church had a whole closet full of plastic tablecloths of a variety of colors whose exact age no one really remembered.

That was actually my first real introduction to Joyce. A few weeks before we moved here, we came down for a visit. Joyce and Betty oversaw the hosting of a fellowship event for us. It was, of course, perfect. When it was over, I asked what I could do to help clean up. One of the search committee members told me I could take up the tablecloths. Just before I got to the first one, another member of the committee who was one of her fellowship followers just managed to stop me in my tracks and loudly scolded the other for trying to get me in trouble. I wondered who this lady was whose wrath they didn’t want me to incur. I quickly found out not only that I didn’t have to fear that at all, but also just how wonderful she really was. And the thing that made her so wonderful was her love for Jesus that translated to her love for the people around her. I experienced this love personally more times than I could count over the years. I saw her love my bride well. And she was particularly doting on my boys. As a parent, that’s not something you forget. I surely won’t.

More than anything else, though, the thing you need to know about Joyce was just how much she loved Jesus. Her faith in Him was a sight to behold. It was already long since clear through her active service in the church and her love for the people around her. Indeed, if you say you love Jesus, but don’t love His church (a love which is made apparent through your active and intentional engagement with the church), then you don’t really love Jesus like you say or think you do. But faith is made most apparent in times of testing just like the purity of gold is proven in the fire. And when the fires of life came for Joyce, her faith proved more precious than the finest gold.

Walking toward the veil that separates this life from the next can be a scary thing. For many it is terrifying. We scrape and claw and cling to this life with every fiber of our being. We weep and moan and gnash our teeth at the time we’ve wasted or the mistakes we’ve made or the relationships we’ve injured. We wish longingly for all the things we never got to do. We hate it. We always have. But Jesus made that journey different. By His death and resurrection, we know for sure that there is something on the other side of that veil. That something is life for all those who have put their trust in Him. The crossing is still not always easy, but when we know the destination, all the fear disappears. More, when we know that what comes next is a grand reunion and then an eternity to enjoy God’s kingdom where life reigns and where sin and all of its bitter fruits are forever banished, our going home becomes something we anticipate with joy and gladness.

Joyce knew her journey through this life was coming to an end. She was as clear-eyed about that as she could have been. She fought her cancer hard for almost two years, confident in God’s ability to heal her through the work of her talented team of doctors and nurses. But even if not, even if that wasn’t His plan, she was still going to be okay. She was still going to be okay because she knew what comes next. Now she knows it even better. As a result, when she went home for what turned out to be her final week, rather than wasting away bitterly, she fairly well held court. Her daughters found themselves keeping quite busy managing a steady stream of visitors. Even as she lay there growing weaker by the day, she still took an active interest in every single person who came to see her. She even made sure the family was using the right placemats when they ate their meals. We took our boys to see her about 36 hours before she went home, and even then, she lit up, called them all by name, and told them she loved them.

Her grace and poise, her confidence and hopefulness even in these final moments was no accident. It was the natural result of a life spent cultivating a deep and vibrant relationship with Jesus. And now, she is one step closer to the building from God, not made by hands, that the apostle Paul talked about with the Corinthian believers. She has the joy of waiting out the remaining time until our Lord returns in His presence and free from the constraints of this world. She is eager for all those whom she loves and who love Jesus like she still very much does to catch up. Because of all that, we grieve with hope knowing that we who follow Jesus like she did will see her again. If you don’t happen to be there, then take a page out of her very successful playbook and follow suit. You and she both will be glad that you did. Thank you, Joyce, for a life that we can celebrate.