Opening Prayer
Let us pray.
Loving God,
you are our light in darkness and our hope in despair.
As we remember before you those whom we have loved and lost,
give us grace to trust in your promises,
to rest in your peace,
and to find comfort in your eternal love,
made known to us in Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Reflection
There is no escaping that today carries with it both sadness and love.
All Souls’ Day invites us to gather with hearts that ache — because we remember. We remember faces and voices, laughter and kindness, people whose absence leaves a space that no one else can fill.
The psalmist begins with courage: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” Yet even these words, so full of faith, come from someone who knew fear and loss. They are not a denial of sorrow, but a statement of trust in the midst of it.
In our Gospel reading, Jesus tells his disciples, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” But we can understand how troubled they were. He was speaking of his death, of leaving them behind. Their grief was already beginning — just as ours lingers today.
Grief, as we know, is the cost of love. We feel pain because we have first felt love. The only way to avoid the pain of loss would be to live without loving — and none of us would choose that. So even in our mourning, we are here because of love — love that endures, love that refuses to be silenced by death.
And into that love, Jesus speaks hope.
He says, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you.”
These words are not just for his first disciples; they are for all of us.
They tell us that death is not the end, that God’s love makes room for each of us — a place prepared, a welcome assured.
Psalm 27 echoes that hope: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”
Even in the shadow of death, the psalmist holds fast to the conviction that God’s goodness still shines, that love remains stronger than loss.
Thomas, ever honest, asks the question we still ask: “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” And Jesus answers, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”
He does not give us a map, but himself — the living presence of God’s love that guides us through every darkness into light.
So today, as we remember those we love, we do so not as people without hope, but as people held in the light of Christ.
God is here — present in our tears, present in our memories, present in the love that binds the living and the departed together.
And the same God who was their light is our light still.
May we find comfort in this: that love does not die, that light will not fade, and that in Christ, there is a home prepared — a place of peace, welcome, and everlasting joy.
That light reminds us that we can believe in hope beyond our earthly lives. That hope reminds us that as many sunsets that we see here on earth, as many tears as we shed as we watch the sun set. The sun will rise. The sun will always rise, perhaps not here on earth, perhaps not in this life but we can have hope that, one day, somewhere else, the sun will rise.
I want to finish, with a poem by John T Baker A poem that picks up on the idea that as our loved ones go, they are greeted in the place prepared for them, and incidentally the poem that was read at my mum’s funeral.
THE SHIP OF LIFE
by John T. Baker
Along the shore I spy a ship
As she sets out to sea;
She spreads her sails and sniffs the breeze
And slips away from me.
I watch her fading image shrink,
As she moves on and on,
Until at last she’s but a speck,
Then someone says,She’s gone.
Gone where? Gone only from our sight
And from our farewell cries;
That ship will somewhere reappear
To other eager eyes.
Beyond the dim horizon’s rim
Resound the welcome drums,
And while we’re crying,There she goes
They’re shouting, Here she comes!
We’re built to cruise for but a while
Upon this trackless sea
Until one day we sail away
Into infinity.
Closing Prayer
God of life and love,
we thank you for the lives of those we remember today,
for all they gave and all they were.
Hold them in your eternal care,
and hold us, too, in your compassion and peace.
Grant that we may live in faith, walk in hope,
and rest in the assurance that nothing — not even death —
can separate us from your love in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Amen.
Service: Revd Lex Bradley-Stow, 2nd November 2025. (St John the Baptist Church Peterborough UK)
Readings: Psalm 23, Psalm 27
