I’m about to head over to the church this morning to sing at a funeral.
This is a first for me. I’ve sung at weddings, graduations, even a few anniversaries, but this is my first funeral.
I got an e-mail on Thursday morning with the request from our worship director. I thought about it for a few hours. I really didn’t want to sing. It’s early in the morning, the song is more classical than I’ve sung in a LONG time with sky-high notes, and well… it’s a funeral.
But I started to think…
Our church treats funerals as sacred. If you’re a regular attender and have a funeral need for a family member, we treat you like kings. We roll out the red carpet, get a stellar communicator, and prepare a feast at no cost. The idea is that funeral are hard enough, expensive enough, that who are we, the church, to make that harder on our families.
All that to say, I felt that I needed to sing.
I’ve rehearsed with sheet music and have a huge travel-mug of tea. I’m off to sing at a services that will hopefully bless a hurting family today and celebrate the life of a Jesus follower.
That’s the least I can do for them.