Don't Do This

When my great uncle died I was driving to preach a camp in south Texas. I prayed and debated whether I should cut short my preaching assignment to attend the funeral on Friday. I knew what my uncle would have wanted. He would have wanted me to preach the gospel at camp and rejoice for him. He know I loved him.

The youth minister at camp proved gracious allowing me to preach what should have been the Thursday night message on Thursday morning. I spent the afternoon with the group and headed for home Thursday night. I arrived home after 11:00 p.m. and was on the road for the funeral the next morning by 9:00 a.m. I made it to the funeral with fifteen minutes to spare.

I had not seen my family in over a decade. I did not sit with them but sat in the back of the church alone. Most of them did not even know I was there until one of my cousins, who is a preacher also, mentioned me and gestured in my direction. When the service ended I filed by the casket stopping with tears in my eyes as I viewed the shell of Uncle Buddy's body. I then went out the side door and got in my truck ready to leave and head back home without having any contact with my family except my great uncle's children and grandchildren.

As I started the truck and cranked up the air conditioning I sensed the Lord whisper in my spirit, "Don't do this." That was it. Yet I knew what the Lord had told me. He did not want me to leave the funeral but go to the grave side and face my family. I sat there debating and wanting to drive away. Finally I moved up and waited on everyone to leave and pulled into the funeral procession line.

Driving to the cemetery I began rehearsing what I would to say to cousins, siblings, and extended family. I finally decided on, "It has been a long time." When I parked at the cemetery prepared to share my ice breaker someone called my name from behind. At first I could not make out the man who had called my name. He was bald, skinny, dirty, with sunken eyes with dark circles. Then I noticed it was my brother. He would not have been my first initial contact by choice. We made small talk but our conversation seemed forced and not natural.

Two brothers stood side by side but you would not have known it . He was dirty, scarred, with a raspy voice from years of smoking. I stood there in slacks, starched white shirt with a red tie. I am no better than he is. The only thing that differentiates the two of us is Jesus Christ saved me and changed my life.

At this point my cousin Gail, who is a couple years older than me, saw me from a distance and made a bee line for me hugging my neck. She broke the ice. After that I visited with her younger brother Ronny and several others. What a reunion.

After the grave side service I exchanged phone numbers with Gail and Ronny promising we would keep in touch. They were all gathering to visit but we were moving the next day and I had a five hour drive in front of me.

I am so glad God spoke to me and so glad that I listened and more glad that I obeyed. In facing my family I was able to get a huge monkey off my back and to remove over a decade of bitterness. God's voice did not come loudly. He spoke quietly and I could have missed it. How many times does God speak quietly and we never hear His voice. All He said was, "Don't do this." Thank you Jesus.