Back in January, I attended the funeral of a man named Bob. I did not know Bob, and in fact had never even met him. Some of his relatives, however, are very dear friends of mine. So I drove the hour that it took to get to the church where the funeral was held.
As I sat there listening to three different men talk about Bob — the kind of family man and friend and church leader and business man that he was — I found myself thinking, “I sure would like to have known Bob.” It was obvious from the heartfelt comments made at the funeral, and from the number of people in attendance, that Bob was a good man, a godly man, a man who made a positive difference in the lives of those who knew him.
Funerals can be funny things (not funny as in “ha ha”, obviously, but rather funny as in odd or interesting.) The meanest scoundrel is often made out to be a beneficent humanitarian at his funeral. Preachers feel obligated to say something nice about the deceased at his funeral, even if they have to dig deep and look hard to find it. That’s just the nature of funerals.
There’s an old Lee Ann Womack song entitled, “The Preacher Won’t Have to Lie”. The chorus says, “The choices you make, the chances you take, they’ll follow you all of your life. I’m just tryin’ to live so when I die, the preacher won’t have to lie.”
The preacher didn’t have to lie at Bob’s funeral. I hope that you and I can live our lives in such a way that the preacher won’t have to lie at our funerals, either.