posted by
revdorothyl at 08:40am on 04/04/2008
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It's pouring again in Tennessee, and has been off and on for several days. This morning, there are flood warnings (not watches -- actual flooding has occurred as the result of yesterday's rain), and I have a funeral to preach at noon and a committal service in a cemetary right along the flooding Harpeth River at 2 PM.
I hope the gravesite is on a hill (pretty good chance of that, actually, since the area is all hills, and nobody in their right mind would put a grave on low ground near a river that floods every other year).
At least the miserable weather matches the mood of the day for the family. The grief is finally hitting them full-on, now -- at first they were just understandably relieved that this wonderful, kind, elderly man was no longer suffering as he had been over the last month of his life; after we finished planning the service Wednesday night, though, the 'missing him' part had time to surface.
Oh, well, time to say my usual minister's prayer before preaching: "Dear Lord, please don't let me screw this up by trying to be impressive or clever or cute, but let me be as transparent as possible, so that I disappear and only your love is discernible to your people."
Or there's also the abbreviated version (sort of like the 'Shorter catechism' of the Westminster Confession): "God, please don't let me be a jerk."
I hope the gravesite is on a hill (pretty good chance of that, actually, since the area is all hills, and nobody in their right mind would put a grave on low ground near a river that floods every other year).
At least the miserable weather matches the mood of the day for the family. The grief is finally hitting them full-on, now -- at first they were just understandably relieved that this wonderful, kind, elderly man was no longer suffering as he had been over the last month of his life; after we finished planning the service Wednesday night, though, the 'missing him' part had time to surface.
Oh, well, time to say my usual minister's prayer before preaching: "Dear Lord, please don't let me screw this up by trying to be impressive or clever or cute, but let me be as transparent as possible, so that I disappear and only your love is discernible to your people."
Or there's also the abbreviated version (sort of like the 'Shorter catechism' of the Westminster Confession): "God, please don't let me be a jerk."
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I can recall a time where the minister has turned a funeral into an event where he was the center of attention. I can't picture you ever doing the same.
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I'm quite sure you brought comfort and peace to the family. You're a good listener and a compassionate person. Nothing more is required.
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I always try and remember that, as well. In my head, I know that if I'm NOT scared stiff when I stand in that pulpit and say "Let us listen for the Word of the Lord to us", then I jolly well ought to be. But with habit, the fear grows dimmer.
One could thing about being as 'out of practice' as I've been lately (hardly any supply preaching work over the past year -- though I've had lots of other work to keep me occupied), is that the fear came back nice and fresh when I stood up in front of the congregation last Friday, to try to give form and voice to their mourning and re-direct our eyes to the hope and promise of the resurrection.
Thanks, as always, for reading and understanding.
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