As a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a
grave-side service for a homeless man, who had no family or friends, in a newly
opened rural cemetery. The man would be the first to be laid to rest there,in
the potter's section.
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 back hoe and the crew, who were 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 that 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," &
"Glory," I preached, and I preached, like I'd never preached before: from
Genesis all the way to Revelation. 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 nothin' like that before, and
I've been puttin' in septic tanks for twenty years."
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