Yesterday I led a memorial service for the daughter of friends; friends who had been members of a church I once served. Doing such a service is both a professionally and emotionally complex thing for me. I won’t elaborate on that, though those of you who are retired ministers will know what I mean.
As we drove home after the service and the time of fellowship that followed — where genuine fellowship did take place — Linda said, “what good people,” referring not only to the parents of the woman who had died but to others, to their friends, who had come to comfort the grieving with their presence.
Her comment resonated as I read an essay...
Yesterday I led a memorial service for the daughter of friends; friends who had been members of a church I once served. Doing such a service is both a professionally and emotionally complex thing for me. I won’t elaborate on that, though those of you who are retired ministers will know what I mean.
As we drove home after the service and the time of fellowship that followed — where genuine fellowship did take place — Linda said, “what good people,” referring not only to the parents of the woman who had died but to others, to their friends, who had come to comfort the grieving with their presence.
Her comment resonated as I read an essay...