A nice way to go out...

Michelle and I went to a funeral yesterday. As a general rule, funerals are not usually on my list of things I want to do on any given day. Funerals rank somewhere between getting a root canal (ouch) and shoveling 3 feet of snow out of the driveway. By nature, funerals are sad, somber affairs, always coupled with a acute sense of finality and a recognition of one's own mortality. All things being equal, I'd rather be eating a jelly donut and watching college football (but I can't because APPARENTLY jelly donuts are evil and not to be trusted. At least there's still football). Nobody ever says, "Hey, let's all go to a funeral today! Yeah!". Strangely enough, my job requires that I not only attend the occasional funeral, but I also get to officiate them. And even more strange than that, I PREFER doing a funeral over, say, a wedding. Wait a minute - aren't weddings the polar opposite of funerals? Isn't there laughter, joy, happy music and cake? Who doesn't like cake? (Cake, by the way, is also evil and frowned upon, so it seems.) How can I enjoy a funeral more than a wedding? Simply put, it's all in the process. Let me explain....
Weddings are 1 hour or less ceremonies that are increasingly filled beyond capacity with every extravagance known to man. You can't just have a simple ceremony anymore. It takes months and sometimes years to plan the "perfect" wedding. Thousands of dollars are spent on dresses, decorations, flowers, photographers, etc., all for an event that lasts less than the time it takes to go see a movie. While a joyful occasion, it seems as if the time spent on the wedding FAR outweighs the time spent on preparing for marriage, which God designed to be a lifelong commitment. I require at least 3 sessions together with the couple before I will marry them, going over the biblical position on marriage and on all of the practical realities of living together with another human. I know it doesn't compare to the time spent on the actual wedding, but unfortunately that's all we get.
Funerals are different. The funeral is the final chapter written about your life. It's the culmination of your life's work, whether it turns out to be 80 years or 8 days. (Obviously, a child's death is a much more difficult thing to tackle, so for argument's sake let's just deal with a funeral at the end of a decent amount of years.) Funerals are times of reminiscing, of remembering, of discovering someone's legacy. It's the moment you've worked on your entire life! Personally, I feel so much more connected to a family while serving them during a funeral. People tend to be more open, more honest, more vulnerable at these times, which lends itself to a pastor's "sweet-spot" - that place where you feel most effective in your calling. We get to offer words of comfort and peace. We get to listen to stories - GOOD stories - of life and love and pain and sadness. We get a glimpse into a person's soul, as they express their relief, their regret or their pain. As pastors, it's what we DO. Even if I can't think of anything profound to say (which is often), I am amazed by the response that comes from the families of the departed - "thank you for just being there". Those moments that come along that you KNOW you were able to really BE THERE for someone in their time of need, to truly make an impact in their dark moment -that's when it all makes sense and you get a deeper understanding of the calling on your life. To me, it's real ministry. Don't get me wrong - I hope anyone reading this lives to be really old and leaves a lasting impression on everyone they come in contact with. I just feel a little more "in-tune" with my God when He allows me to minister in this way. Examining your own mortality has a way of doing that sometimes.
So, goodbye Pastor Sam Dunbar. You left a crater-sized impact on our world, full of changed lives and great stories. I hope you liked the ceremony - the full house at the big old tabernacle sure did. We laughed at the stories, cried with your children and felt proud to be in the same profession that you loved so much. As your casket moved down the center aisle, flanked by the hundred or so pastors in attendance, at least one of them wanted to reach out and touch that box, if just to get a little bit of that good legacy to rub off on me. We'll do what you said to do - we'll "be there" for the people when they need us. We'll walk the walk and we'll finish the race. Thanks. Sam. Save us all a spot, will you?
By the way, are jelly donuts still evil in heaven? Just wondering....