As a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a grave side service for a derelict man who had died while traveling through the area with no family or friends. The funeral was held way back in the country. This man would be the first to be laid to rest at this cemetery. As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost. Being the typical man I didn't stop for directions. But I finally arrived an hour late, I saw the crew and backhoe, but the hearse was nowhere in sight.
The workmen were eating lunch. I apologized to the workers (who looked puzzled) for my tardiness, and 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 poured 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 all the way to Revelation. I preached for two hours and 45 minutes. It was a long and lengthy service. I closed in prayer and it was finished. As I was walking to my car, I felt that I had done my duty and all 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, "I've been putting in septic tanks for 20 years, and I ain't never seen anything like this before."
Sometimes you just have to laugh.
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