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Date: | Sun, 26 Feb 2006 17:58:24 -0800 |
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As a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a grave-side
service for a homeless man, with no family or friends. The funeral was to be
held at a cemetery way back in the country, and this man would be the first
to be laid to rest there.
As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost; and being a
typical man did not stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late.
I saw the backhoe and the crew, who was eating lunch, but the hearse was
nowhere in sight.
I apologized to the workers for my tardiness, and stepped to the side of the
open grave, where I saw the vault lid already in place. I assured the
workers I would not hold them up for long, but this was the proper thing to
do.
The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch as I poured out my
heart and soul.
As I preached the workers began to say "Amen," "Praise the Lord," and
"Glory." I preached, and I preached, like I'd never preached before: from
Genesis all the way to Revelations. I closed the lengthy service with a
prayer and walked to my car.
As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I overheard one of the
workers saying to another, "I ain't never seen anything like that before;
and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
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