For the Good: A Memorial Service Sermon for Peter Armstrong

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on December 20, 2025, for the memorial service of Peter Armstrong. You can view the service bulletin here.

Neal, Esther, Sammy; family and friends; sisters and brothers in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. What then are we to say? And how do we now find a way? These two questions are at the heart of our scripture readings today, the first asked by Paul, the second by Thomas. On this day when we gather in our grief and sorrow, these questions give voice to our thoughts. What can we possibly say in the face of Peter’s death? And how do we find a way to live in this world without him? It feels like things are divided by November 12, between the time when Peter was with us, and this unimaginable time without him. How can it possibly be true that we are here, in this place Peter loved so much, for his memorial service?
2. What are we to say? First, we give thanks for Peter. No matter the depths of our grief, the nineteen years of his life with which we were blessed are a gift beyond measure. We are thankful for how Peter lived his life, for the person he was in this world. Neal, Esther, and Sammy have already said so much. Your words, dear friends, are a gift to us. If we wanted, we could open up the microphone and be here for days as people shared how Peter touched their lives, made them better. So just a few thoughts, my own and those shared with me over the past weeks by others. Peter, “Speedy Petey,” loved sports. This we all know! He wore Viking red and white with pride, just as would wear orange and navy and then green and gold. Somehow, he managed to be an incredibly competitive kid who hated to lose and a great sport who just wanted everyone to feel included. Peter was a good friend who had good friends, starting on the 800 block. How incredible that you boys had each other, all just a few doors apart. Peter was the kind of kid who, with his buddies, would sneak a frog into the gymnasium they were sleeping in on their church mission trip and, when the frog got away and spent the rest of the week croaking but unfindable, well, Peter just laughed about it all. Peter’s competitive nature went beyond sports; it seeped into things like the fifth-grade egg drop, when Peter passionately did all he could to ensure that his egg would survive its ever-higher falls from the Concordia parking garage. From a young age, Peter was a leader and an encourager, racing to the playground at recess to get the games going, inviting all to join in. And as a father of boys, I can’t overstate how much I appreciated Peter’s presence as a young man of faith who loved Jesus, a role model for my children and others to look up to. Peter had a heart for the Lord, and he had a heart for people. He was a cool kid, and an incredible young man.
3. All of which makes this even more difficult to wrap our heads, our hearts, around. What do we say? We tell the truth. His death by suicide has left us devastated, broken open. How can such a thing possibly be? I will never be able to look from this pulpit to the south transept and not notice Peter’s absence. We name today our deep sorrow, our heartbreak. We cannot fully know what you the depth of your loss, Neal, Esther, and Sammy, but we are in it with you and will continue with you. God, why? How can this be? I am so sorry, and I am so sad.
4. So, what then are we to say, and how do we now find a way? St. Paul speaks clearly. Life involves suffering. Creation groans under the weight of sin and death. Mental health challenges run rampant and the grip of despair can be so strong. It can feel as if we are cut off from God’s presence, left out of God’s mercy and grace. Is that all there is to say? Paul is emphatic. No. No. Today we claim, in the midst of our grief, the truth of the promise. There is nothing – nothing – that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing. Not powers in this world or the next, not distance or depth, not demons or kings, nothing in life and not even death can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus is our Lord. Christ is with us, and Peter is with Christ. So, if Peter is with Christ and Christ is with us, Peter is never too far away. He is held safe in the arms of his Savior, this Jesus who loves Peter beyond measure, and whom Peter loved with all his heart. Still loves with all his heart. Death would have us believe it gets the final say, but death is a liar. Death, not even one so wrenching, does not get the last word.
5. Where, then, is our way forward? That’s what Thomas, the Doubter, would like to know. On the night before his own death, Jesus promises his friends that he goes to prepare a way for them to follow. But Thomas is a realist. He knows there’s nothing good beyond death. And up to that moment, he was right. But Jesus – the truth and the life – has come to make a way. Today, the Spirit intercedes for us and Jesus does a new thing. He gives us peace to know that this death is not the end.
6. In a few days, the children of Grace will do what they’ve done for generations. Peter loved Christmas, and I know that a big part of that love was for the children’s Christmas Eve services at Grace. Again this year, gathered in the darkness, the children will hold candles and sing of our Savior’s birth. They will process toward the chancel, holding lights against the darkness, singing of what once happened in royal David’s city on that most holy night. When they reach the front, they will arrange themselves as they always do. Not in the shape of a manger or a star, but in the shape of a cross. At first glance, it seems odd, off. Do we have to bring the cross to Bethlehem’s stable? But it is unavoidable. Christ came down to earth, incarnate in our flesh, to take on our lot and our life, our suffering and our death. Not only was there no room for him in the inn, there was no room for him in this world. Jesus would go to Calvary feeling lost and forsaken, that there was no way forward for him. But Mary’s baby boy is also the Father’s only Son, and God would not let death hold Jesus for long. In his resurrection, Jesus shows forth that death will not be able to hold our sons and daughters, either. What Thomas could not know at the time was that Jesus’ death was the furthest thing possible from an ending; that in his death Jesus would undo the power of death, forgiving and freeing God’s people from all that once held them bound. That Good Friday always gives way to Easter. In Christ, we live. In Christ, Peter lives even now.
7. God, Jesus proclaims in his life, death, and resurrection, is the God a life. Jesus is the life and light of the world. We know in faith the truth of the promise, that Peter is alive with Christ, and that we shall see Peter again, with all the saints. Death doesn’t win. As God promises life beyond this world, so, too, does God desire life now. While we will not escape the darknesses and difficulties of this world until Christ comes again, God yearns for abundant life for us now. God loves you now, here. Please, friends, hear this: You are, each and every one of you, known, named, and claimed by the God of life. You matter, and you have incredible worth no matter what the world says, no matter what you are feeling, no matter how hopeless it seems. If you are ever, ever struggling to remember this truth, remember that you are loved. Loved by God and loved by so many people. If you are ever out of hope, wondering what to say or if there is a way, please, please reach out. To your parents, your siblings; your friends, your teachers. Reach out for your school’s resources. Call your pastors. There are people who love you beyond measure.
8. Our hearts break, for there is no one in this room who wouldn’t have moved heaven and earth to help Peter. So today, we do what we can. In faith and trust, we commend him into God’s never-failing care. Peter lives in Christ and we shall see him again, free from all that sought to bind him. He is at peace now, free to live in the light of God. And we know that, even in this world now, God will work good from this. Not that this death is good, but that God will work for good, for life. We cling to the mystery, the promise, that all things work together for good for those who love God. Let this be our purpose; let this be our call. Let us commit to God’s work, that all might know God’s love. That children could continue to come to Grace School and have an experience like Peter’s. That all would have access to help and support in times of crisis. That all would know the love of Jesus and come to love him in return. That no one here would have to walk their journey alone. That as people of the Way, we will find our way. Though our steps falter and fail, we will find our way. For our God is a God of promise, and God will not let us go.
9. Peter was part of our 2020 COVID graduation class, and part of our 2020 COVID confirmation class. While it was lovely, I do hope we never have to hold graduation in a parking lot ever again. But it’s Peter’s confirmation that’s on my mind. It happened right here, with families socially distanced in their pews. What then shall we say? Let’s let Peter speak, words from his witness statement. Words spoken from this very pulpit, words that I think he never forgot, even when things were difficult. Peter says: “I will always know that the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus makes it so that my sins are forgiven and I will have eternal life and that He will do all things FOR THE GOOD!” A bit earlier in his statement, Peter says he believes there will be a good ending to all things. To which I will simply add, if things aren’t good, it must not yet be the end. This is not the end. Peter, in your memory, we will work for the good. For Jesus’ sake, we will cling to the promise. In our heartbreak, we will hold on to hope, knowing that the awfulness of death does not get the last word. God is near to the brokenhearted. God is here. Christ is alive, and in him, we live. In Christ, Peter lives. And that story, the story of eternity, is only just beginning. I am so sorry, and I am so sad. We all are. How could it be otherwise? But still, we hold on to hope. Let us cling to Christ and hold close to one another as we walk together on the way. This is not the end. Death is swallowed up in the victory of God and we shall live. Rest well, Peter. We’ll see you when we get there. We love you so much, and love never ends. Alleluia. Alleluia. Amen.

And now may that peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.