This past Sunday night, I came home to an empty apartment after a busy night putting on a concert at FOCUS. My wife called in a panic and told me that her mother passed away. It was a shock to everyone.
I won’t go into the details because most are personal, but I want to share my own thoughts about my involvement in the funeral service (and life/death).
This was my first time preaching at a funeral. After being asked, I became extremely pre-occupied with what I was going to say that could comfort the family (and myself). It got to the point that more than anything I didn’t know if I could keep from breaking down in the middle of the funeral. (not what the family needs to see from the minister)
Once I finally settled on the message I prayed through thoroughly, I was ready to go. Until I got in the chapel and sat down. It was at that moment I felt completely unprepared, unqualified, and WAY over my head. So I prayed…HARD.
To anyone that happened to attend the service, I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt, you witnessed the overcoming, all-powerful hand of God. It was only through HIS strength (and the prayers of many) that I was able to even read the words God had given me to say. Truly a humbling experience.
Unfortunately, I’ve realized since Wednesday that this was a first…not a last. So now there’s this ticking time bomb in the back of my head, waiting to go off. When it blows I’ll look around and see which one of my loved ones isn’t standing anymore. Then I’ll pray some more, knowing that God is STILL in control and the same power at work during the first funeral will be provided for the next.
**I’ve received all kinds of “thanks” and “good jobs” since the service, and the intent of this post is not to solicit more, so I disabled commenting.**