Pastor
Jake was a young minister who grew up in New York City and was appointed to
tend to the spiritual needs of a small, rural, Maine town. On his first day in
the town, Pastor Jake was asked by a funeral director to conduct a graveside
service for a homeless man with no family or friends.
The
cemetery was way the hell back in the countryside, and the minister got lost
trying to find the place. Pastor Jake started cursing under his breath. It was his very first duty in the new town and he was screwing
it up by being late to administer the service. Finally, he saw a backhoe in a
field and the gravediggers standing by, but no hearse was in sight.
Pastor
Jake screeched to a stop near the backhoe, jumped out of his car and ran over
to the grave. The vault lid was already in place. Sweating and breathing
heavily, he gave the three men standing near the hole a curt nod, opened up his
Bible and immediately began to preach. He talked about God's mercy, the parable
of the Prodigal Son, the hope of the Resurrection, and then he bowed his head
in silent prayer.
One
of the workers said, "By God, in my twenty years of doing this kind of
work, I ain't never seen anything like it before while putting in a septic tank."
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