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Grave Service
As a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a
graveside service in a new cemetery for a derelict man (with no
family or friends) who had died while traveling through the
area.
The cemetery was way back in the country. This man would be the
first to be laid to rest at this new cemetery.
As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost.
Being the typical man I didn't stop for directions. And when I
finally arrived an hour late, I saw a crew and a backhoe, but
the hearse was nowhere in sight.
The workmen were eating lunch. I apologized for my tardiness,
but the workers just looked puzzled. I stepped to the side of
the open grave, to find the vault lid already in place.
I assured the workers I would not hold them long, but this was
the proper thing to do.
As the workers gathered around, still eating their lunch. I
pou red out my heart and soul.
As I preached, the workers began to say "Amen," "Praise the
Lord" and "Glory," (they must have all been Baptist).
I preached, and I preached, like I'd never preached before. I
began from Genesis and worked all the way through to Revelation.
I preached for 45 minutes.
It was a long service. Finally, I closed in prayer and it was
finished.
As I was walking to my car, I felt that I had done my duty and I
would leave with a renewed sense of purpose and dedication, in
spite of my tardiness.
As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I overheard
one of the workers saying to another...
"Ya know, I've been putting in septic tanks for 20 years, but I
ain't never seen anything like that before."
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