Have We Met?

In my years in the ministry I have developed a habit. I'm not sure if it's a healthy one. When I am asked to officiate at a funeral I seem unwilling to stop myself from thinking back to the first time I met the person who has died. Sometimes I remember that meeting. Sometimes I do not.

When my mom's mom first held me we didn't know I would speak at her funeral. When my dad's dad first saw me, he didn't know that he had met the one who would officiate at his funeral. When my uncle took me to the Indianapolis Racers hockey game neither of us suspected. When Tom took me to meet Owen so that he could teach me to read Greek, nothing could have been farther from our minds.

Last week it was Shirley. I don't remember the first time I met her. I just remember what a positive presence she brought with her to Central Christian Church in Jonesborough, even during tough times. We just laughed together, worshiped together, and survived some of the ordeals of church life together.

As the stories begin to pile, one atop another, I treasure each one as a sacred gift that comes with the blessing and privilege of being allowed to serve in the ministry.

I also consider it a reminder. The stories remind me that I don't know if I've met the one who will officiate at my funeral. Has that person been born yet? Is that person older than me? Is it a friend or relative? Will that person have found me to be a welcoming and gracious person, or aloof and distracted?

I don't find this habit morbid. God moves us in and out of circles, weaves us into each other's lives, all while calling us forward for his purposes. We get the joy of being surprised by the different people who ascend to important places in our lives, saddened sometimes by those who diminish.

When I meet the person who will lead my funeral (or if I already have met that person), I hope that I am a blessing to him or her.