When I was a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a grave side service in a brand new cemetery for a man that had no family or friends. The cemetery was way back in the country and the man would be the first to be laid to rest there. As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost and being the typical man, I did not stop for directions. When I finally arrived an hour late I saw a crew and a backhoe, but the hearse was no where in sight.
The workmen were eating lunch. I apologized for my tardiness, but the workers just looked puzzled. I stepped to the side of the open grave only to find the vault lid already in place. I assured the workers I would not hold them long, but that a sermon was in order and the proper thing to do.
As the workers gathered around, still eating their lunch, I poured out my heart and soul. As I preached, the workers began to say "Amen," "Praise the Lord" and "Glory," (they must have been Baptist). I preached and I preached, like I'd never preached before. I began with Genesis and worked all the way though Revelation. I preached for 45 minutes but finally, I closed in prayer and it was finished.
As I was walking to my car I felt I had done my duty and I would leave with a renewed sense of purpose and dedication in spite of my tardiness. As I was opening the car door I overheard one of the workers say to another, "I've been putting in septic tanks for 20 years and I ain't never seen anything like that before."