Friday, October 17, 2014 A funeral is something, as a pastor, you want to do well. Oh, there are other highly important things, like weddings, baptisms, counseling, the preaching of the Word. But a funeral, by definition, includes the reality of finality like nothing else. Young ministers feel a certain sense of need and a desire to do well when it’s time to do a funeral. Some of you may remember the story of the young preacher whose first funeral was in the country outside a tiny town he’s never been to. He had car trouble, and to make matters worse, got lost. He was more than an hour late, and the funeral party had all left—except for two fellows on one side of the cemetery standing there with shovels, and a pile of dirt. He rushed over determined to at least do something of his pastoral duty. Lifting a hand to signal for the workers not to shovel any more for a moment, he read from his prayer book, and prayed a brief out loud prayer. He thanked the workers and headed for his car hoping to somehow salvage something out of the missed service later. As the preacher climbed into his car, one of the fellows with the shovel turned to the other and said, “I’ll bet that’s the preacher that didn’t show for the graveside on the other side of the cemetery. Bet he didn’t know we were here working on the septic tank for the church.” Where there is evidence of laughter and tear, God can also be present. We had part a funeral just a little while ago. How you want to help and lift some of the burden of loss. Integrity is always on the line at funerals. One must be careful to represent the deceased in an honest way, while bearing witness to the Gospel of grace and forgiveness. We’ve shared in this post about the young boy leaving the funeral of an uncle pretty well known for being a hard get along with kind of person. “Who do you think that preacher was talking about Daddy,” he asked, “it sure wasn’t uncle Jack.” This most recent service was one where we did laugh and cry and hope together. This was a person who accomplished much, a man who sought long and hard for-- and found-- a personal relationship with Christ, practiced generosity, and died after a courageous dealing with dreadful disease. A touching eulogy from a son made the time all the more sacred. You are not there to perform, or to say just the right words, you are there just to be a point of contact between God and those affected by this death. You know you’re not worthy and just pray it happens. My first funeral was a baby’s. I sat in front of that little casket wanting to pray a dead child back to life. My heart was conflicted. I’d heard some religious types claim to raising the dead, but I’ve never known it to happen. Years later, I did another funeral for a baby. The mother was still in the hospital, and the funeral director and I were the only persons present. Just before we left, the father came drunk and dirty, but he came. Then there was the funeral in such terrible weather that the funeral directors said, “Look, if you want to get out and say a prayer at the site, that’s fine, but we’ll just stay in the car with the rest of the folks who came to the graveside. They gave me an umbrella. The wind blew the notes out of my wet Bible that day. I’ve been to funerals full of the power and the blessing of God. Services where our broken hearts were lifted (Sis, Mom, Dad, Papaw, Pat, Earl, and all those others precious to us). We came away knowing we had suffered great loss, but that this was not the ‘end of the story.’ We are not alone. God is with us. Friends and family help. And sometimes even young preachers, and the more mature ones too--help open that divine connection which will empower those who have suffered loss for the days to come. Always love, always, Keith
Posted on: Fri, 17 Oct 2014 11:25:00 +0000
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