Late For A Funeral

Late For A Funeral

It was a lazy June afternoon. I had just returned from a two-week trip to East Africa teaching at a Pastors Conference. Recovering from jet lag, I was in my office at church when I received a call from the local funeral director. He informed me that the family of a deceased church member was waiting for me at the funeral home. Was I planning on coming over?

This church member had died some months before and was cremated. The widow wasn’t up to a burial at that time. Before leaving for Africa, a date was set upon my return. With all that goes into re-entry after an overseas trip, I promptly forgot all about the service. The family didn’t and was gathered at the funeral home wondering what happened to their pastor.

When I received the call, I was dressed in jeans and a short sleeve shirt, presentable enough to perform the service. Speeding across town, I made it  there in record time. I was so flustered as I walked in that I could hardly speak. No excuse would be good enough to explain my poor memory. In all my years of ministry this was the first time I forgot to show up at a funeral. A sure sign I was starting to slip.

The widow and the family were very gracious. We were good friends and they were generous is their forgiveness. On the way to the cemetery all I could do was try to pull myself together and focus on what I needed to say at the graveside. I must have sounded like an idiot because I kept losing my place in the prayer book and the family kept laughing because they had never seen me so shook up.

Somehow I made it through still feeling embarrassed at my meager performance as their pastor. As we were walking back to the car, the widow thanked me for coming. She gave me a big hug and presented me with a plastic case about the size of a shoebox. She told me that her late husband would want me to have this as thank you gift. As I opened the box inside was a brand new Smith and Wesson stainless steel revolver! I confess that God does work in mysterious ways.