Funeral Thoughts

One morning this week I conducted a memorial service for a gentleman I'd never met.

Occasionally a funeral home will call and ask me to officiate at a service for an individual who didn't have a relationship with a church or a minister. I suppose most pastors get requests like that from time to time.

I always have mixed feelings about speaking at one of these farewells for someone I didn't even know. First off, it's hard to come up with stuff to say when you have little or no information about the deceased. I always like to share personal traits and tidbits and stories and reminiscences at a funeral, to make it more warm and intimate and special. If I wasn't acquainted with the departed one, that's a lot tougher assignment. Not to mention that it's a little scary to think that I might accidently say something that everybody sitting out there knows wasn't true about that person. Or I could unintentionally step on some relational landmine.

On the other hand, presiding over a service for an individual who apparently wasn't a churchgoer gives me an incredible opportunity. I have the chance to share the glorious Gospel with a family as well as lots of their friends who normally are not exposed to presentations of the life-changing good news of Jesus. Precious seed can be sown. A fresh vision can be offered. Hope can be disseminated. The clear plan of salvation can be simply and delicately and respectfully mentioned. I guess it's this privilege and open door that keeps me accepting these requests. It's ministry. That's what I'm called to do. Maybe I can't accept every invitation but it's a joy to step briefly into the lives of people I've never had the pleasure of knowing before and extending help and comfort and grace and truth. God arranges, in His sovereignty, those encounters that offer platforms to communicate the message to folks who never darken the door of a church on Sundays but who do attend funerals for their loved ones.

I gotta tell you, though, that one of the saddest experiences to come out of these types of events for me is when I ask a family to give me some good material to share in the service and they can't think of much if anything to tell me. Sure, they can provide me with dates and jobs and places lived, basic biographical info, but what about memories? Are there no warm stories? You can't remember what you loved most about this person? You can't tell me 3 or 4 things you learned from this individual? What motivated or brought delight or shaped this now departed one?

I tell you, I've had that happen more than once. On one occasion, I sat with a whole family around a table and not one person could remember anything concrete or positive to provide me with some substance and traction for my eulogy. There was just silence, and a lot of blank stares. Maybe that says something about the quality of the life of the deceased individual. Maybe it's an indictment on the paucity of depth in the family relationship. At any rate, it's very sad. Oh, to have lived a life where every close survivor has a thousand beautiful things to say, and the problem then for the minister becomes what has to be left out of his remarks in the interest of time! I certainly long to live in such a way that I've beneficially contributed and made a difference. I yearn to live in such a way that I plant seeds all around me that will bear fruit long after I'm gone. My earnest desire is to create happy mental snapshots in the minds and hearts of my family and friends that will warm them and cheer them after my departure. When I offer my officiating services to a family that suddenly needs a "reverend" and I sense that they don't possess that rich storehouse of happy memories of their husband or spouse or child I'm moved all the more to strengthen and deepen the ties with the folks in my life that are most important.

When the funeral director calls and needs a favor, most of the time I'm gonna say yes. And not just because I want to stay on his good side! Perhaps it's because, as Ecclesiastes 7:2 teaches, you can sometimes learn a whole lot more in the "house of mourning" than you can anywhere else!