This Saturday is for My Last Times-Guardian Article

Alas, I found out this week through the back door, so to speak (the former editor, who I ran into in the grocery store), that the Canyon Lake Times-Guardian, after almost 40 years of publishing, has closed its door. The following is the final article I wrote for the T-G.

In the time ahead, I will be checking out the limited number of other weekly newspapers in the area, to see if any would like me to write for them. Until that happens, I will not be posting on Saturdays, unless I come up with some other approach to what I would like to make available on Saturdays.

“The Grave Couldn’t Hold It!”

Over the course of my 30-plus years in ministry, I have done some 125 funerals. I must admit, however, that the graveside service I did this past Saturday afternoon was completely unique in my experience. When it came time to lower the coffin, it would not fit into the grave!

Allow me to give you some more information that will help you understand what happened. Almost a year and a half ago, I received a phone call from a voice from the past. He informed me that a man I knew, his father, when I pastored at Canyon Lake from 1977 to 1983, was near death. He asked at that point if I could be available to do the funeral, whenever it took place. My reply was that, yes, if I could possibly work it out, I would certainly be glad to take part.

By God’s grace and the changing of some difficult habits, his father lived another year and a half, then died peacefully last Tuesday in his sleep at home. When I was contacted initially last week, the memorial service was scheduled for Saturday, but, for some unknown reason, the graveside had been set for Sunday afternoon. That, of course, presented a real difficulty for me, since I needed to be back Saturday evening, in order to preach on Sunday morning.

Thankfully, they were able to get the graveside changed to Saturday afternoon. But, I suspect that might have contributed to the “ill-fitting” grave site. Why? Because the grave had to be dug on much shorter notice than if it had remained on Sunday afternoon.

Another factor almost surely contributed. The funeral plots at the rural cemetery west of Madisonville were of slender dimensions, making the digging of the grave within the plot a much more meticulous task than at most cemeteries.

After the graveside service was completed, the workers began to lower the casket into the grave… and it would not do down. As a result, after trying to make some small adjustments, the workers finally retrieved a couple of shovels and, after another hour or so, finally got the job done. So, after some distress—plus the discomfort of standing out in the sweltering heat-humidity combination of that area near Houston—there was a “happy ending.”

On the way back home Saturday evening, I began thinking about this highly unusual circumstance… and my mind took things in a somewhat different direction. I thought about how Jesus’ body was buried in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea and fully secured by Roman soldiers. But, on the third day, that first Easter morning, the grave could not hold Him. He was raised from the dead, victorious over sin on the Cross and over death in His resurrection.

The “happy ending” in my friend’s case was that his father’s body was finally able to be buried… until Christ comes to resurrect his body (as he will certainly do; 1 Corinthians 15:23). Such an everlasting “happy ending” for all of us is assured if you have trusted Jesus Christ as your Savior. When you look into a grave and stare death in the face, where do you stand with Jesus?

Coming Tuesday: “Looking Over My Shoulder (VI)”