Out of Place

I pulled up to the old familiar place and parked my truck. I stepped out into the beautiful spring day and began walking down the dusty lane to my final destination. As soon as opened my truck door, I could tell I had dozens of eyes focused on my every move. I tried to walk with confidence ignoring the suspicious gazes being directed toward me.

Before long I locked eyes on a friendly face that was walking in my direction with a broad smile. We shook hands and went over some final details for the event that had brought us all together. Next, I was introduced to some key people. Though I was no stranger to our meeting place I did feel strangely out of place. Other than the friendly face I afore mentioned and his wife, I did not know anyone else.

When people know you are a preacher they tend to treat you a little differently. They do not understand men of the cloth. Many people think preachers are kind of weird, mystical, and holy. People who do not normally associate with preachers are stand offish, reserved, and often resentful for what the preacher stands for. It was light and darkness today.

On this occasion everyone knew I was the preacher. It was awkward. I was invited to attend but it was pretty obvious I was an intruder. My attendance and whom I represent contrasted starkly with the other participants. I may have been invited but that did not mean I was wanted nor welcomed.

The occasion that brought us all together was a funeral if you had not guessed it before now. The family of the deceased was from Odessa but they were burying a husband, father, and brother in Seminole. A preacher was needed for a graveside service and I guess they did not have one. The funeral directors recommended me. They just wanted a few scriptures and a prayer. My convictions would not allow me to take a pass on presenting the gospel to those who needed to hear it but may not have wanted to hear it.

Broken hearted I saw the sobbing widow and wondered where her hope could be found. If she is not saved (only God knows for sure) there is no hope other than to cling to Jesus and cry out for His salvation. I watched the people’s reaction during the music. One guy backed away from the tent and lit up a cigarette. Two others began a full-blown conversation complete with jokes and laughter in the middle of service. This took place while the service was still going on. Others milled around other tombstones disinterested in anything God or I had to say.

Even in that dark moment God confirmed His presence. While the only Christian song, “Amazing Grace”, was being sung, I saw a man and his wife singing along softly. I doubt if any of the other family or friends knew the words to that anthem of the faith. That couple’s countenance looked different than those others in the family. Many of the attendees looked like a fish out of water being around death, the scriptures, preachers and songs like “Amazing Grace”.

The truth was preached. People were told how to get to Heaven and the hope of salvation through Jesus Christ. The more I think about it I know preaching that funeral proved to be divinely appointed by God. Didn’t Jesus show up around irreligious people in order to speak divine truth to them? My attendance at that funeral reminds me of my calling and my desire to be a community pastor. I belonged. God’s mission for me today called for me to minister the hope of salvation to a group who did not appear to have ever experienced it. Today I did not stand out of place over that open grave. That was the exact spot in this universe God appointed me to be. Next to the casket draped with the American flag I pointed people to Jesus and the hope of Heaven. The results are up to God. That is my mission, my calling, and my eternal purpose. I will gladly stand in my place in the pulpit, next to the grave, next to the hospital bed, and wherever God gives me chance to witness for Him. If I am doing that I am never out of place.