Father of the Bride (continued)

Well, I made it. I not only survived my daughter's wedding; I came away with a mental treasure chest filled with precious memories. Many of The Lookout's readers told me they could relate to my editorial, "Father of the Bride" (June 20, 1999), in which I confessed my anxiety about serving as the officiating minister for Michelle and Charles' wedding ceremony. Now that the big day is over and the newlyweds are settling happily into their shared life, I'd like to offer a few more observations.

Every time I think of the wedding, I recall its beauty. Biblical portrayals of a bride ("pure," "radiant," "without stain or wrinkle," and "beautifully adorned for her husband") captured the way my daughter looked as I prepared to walk her down the church aisle surrounded by fragrant roses, glowing candles, pleasant music, and wedding guests dressed in their best.

The ceremony also was a time for meaningful worship. There were prayers, Scripture readings, songs that praised God for his love and faithfulness, and spoken reminders that Christ is the foundation of a healthy home.

The wedding also included some great fellowship. Friends and family traveled literally from coast to coast, from New York to Washington State. Old and young—even people from different nations—came to share our joy. Hugs, handshakes, and friendly greetings filled the air.

And for many of us, the wedding served as a time for reflection. When I was young, I didn't understand why people cried at happy occasions like weddings. Now I understand. A wedding touches the whole gamut of emotions, and it affects different people in different ways. Married couples remember their own wedding days. Widows miss their husbands. Divorcees feel again the pain of broken promises and pray for the bride and groom's success. Little girls dream of being lovely brides themselves someday. Parents marvel at the swift passage of time.

On a deeper level, I think a wedding makes us long for eternity. It stirs in us the desire for an unending experience of love and joy where the beauty, worship, fellowship, and reflection go on forever. It makes us long for a better place where the celebration doesn't end, the cake doesn't grow stale, the candles don't have to be blown out, and the flower petals never wilt. It makes us hungry for "the wedding supper of the Lamb" (Revelation 19:6–9).

Maybe that's why at a wedding, the tears seem to flow most freely from the eyes of the older, wiser saints among us. They have lived longer than the rest of us. They think about eternity more than most of us. They have caught a glimpse of a heavenly celebration where the only tears shed will be wiped away by the tender hand of God.