Emily was captured, for a time, by a disease that seemed to shut her off from life like the iris of a camera that was closing slowly until it appeared light could no longer enter. But appearances are deceiving. For just as film that has been touched by earlier light yields an image when it is removed from the camera and developed, so too there is so much more going on in a person's life than we see from outside appearances.

The inner workings and hidden images within any of us are far more subtle and complex than we can even know. We are a deep mystery even to ourselves. Paul's second letter to the Corinthians doesn't speak of camera cases and film but his analogy of our bodies as a tent or clothing points to the same truth. We are more than flesh and life is larger than the days we walk the earth. Even if we discard the camera the images that have been produced persist.

The things that are really important in this life are not things like wealth or beauty- these things fade. Even pain and discomfort that seem overwhelming in the moment will pass away too. Whether it is physical pain or the ache of loss, in the end it all falls away like a sweater taken off on a cold day when it grows comfortably warm.

We are shaped in this life, and the next, by the relationships we inhabit. Every expression of love, faith and hope, every embrace of that which is good, focuses light on the image that God had imprinted on our soul at our creation. Baptism takes the lens cover off the camera and allows us to drink in the light of the Spirit that is all around us. Communion and weekly contact with a community of faith cleans the accumulated grim off our lens so that we can see clearly and light can enter us with less distortion.

But even when a camera is put on the shelf for a time, the images within persist. All those years of life in community, all those acts of love and kindness, filled Emily with light. Even as memory and reason faded away, the glow of graciousness remained. The last time I went to visit Emily, she did not know who I was. But it didn't matter. She greeted me with hospitality and warm. The essence of jaunty presence we can see in the image of Emily on the front of the bulletin this morning is a snapshot of her enduring essence.

Faith, hope and love endure. As these shine in us and from us, an enduring and beautiful image is formed with us. Some darkness is inevitable, an inescapable part of the human condition. Failings and foibles obscure some part of the light around us - diminish some part of the picture. But while it is still light, all of us have the opportunity to choose where we will point our lens so as to capture the maximum amount of light. We choose which scenes to enter, which vistas to record. Life is full of shimmering beauty. Let us choose to cast our gaze at those things that are gracious, lovely and true.

At the reception we will trade stories of Emily like people pointing to snapshots in an album. Each image we present will recall a host of other perceptions- the fragrance of flowers, the sound of ice in a glass, the warmth of a day or the light of her smile. Isn't it a wonder that the power of love, memory and imagination are strong enough to raise days long dead and hold them, full of life, before our eyes?

God who loved us into being and stamped his own image deep within us can call up not just memory but essence. Emily persists. The gospel does not speak of cameras, tents or clothing- it uses a larger analogy, the house of God. In it are all whom God has gathered. There are many rooms, more than we can imagine or pray for. Places are prepared, like pages of an album, waiting for the images yet to be developed. Emily is in album, in that house, in that relationship that endures, that dwelling of ultimate hospitality.

There is room enough for us when the time comes.

So let us this day celebrate the gift that Emily was to us. Let us gaze with love on the images that persist. And let us resolve to point our lens in the right direction while we still have light.

How can we know the right direction? All cameras come with a manual. But the best photography instruction comes from a mentor. We are offered both. The wisdom and witness of Scripture shows us fullness of life and this wisdom is offered not just at funerals but every Sunday. The mentor shows up whenever two or three are gathered in His name.

I invite you, in the name of Christ, to enter into the deeper mysteries of this life. Open your lens - open your heart - and let the light of Christ enter. In this way the image of God's hope for you will develop within you so that when night falls and the page is turned your picture will be ready to be placed with the rest, in that house by still water, in the company of saints. AMEN.