|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. 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."