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."