Invading Sacred Territory.....

A couple of weeks ago, I journeyed to a small town down in Southwestern Kentucky to provide the homily for a family member of former parishioners.  The woman was a retired school teacher who was kind to everyone she met, so providing the homily was quite easy. 

As I drove into the town to check into my hotel, a local motor lodge on the outskirts of town, I began to fret a bit.  Woman ministers still are not "socially acceptable" in some small places.

I drove to the funeral home which was a large converted old southern home.  I went in an met up with the director who happened to be a woman.  We chatted for a few minutes before the family arrived and I finally had the nerve to ask the question whirling in my head, "How many women have preformed a funeral here?"

She smiled and said to me, "you'll be the first."

The ghosts of ancient old ramblings rose in my head and I immediately thought, "I'd better get the hell out of dodge."  I knew I was going to be conducting the funeral with three other ministers, two who were southern Baptist and I knew they would not believe that women should be behind the pulpit.

Funny as it seems, the funeral went quite well.  Once I began the homily, the Spirit overtook my delivery and shortly into it, I heard the baptist preachers giving me an amen! and a yes! (they don't do that in the Presbyterian Church). 

It was sacred and holy and I was honored to celebrate Mrs. Helen's life and to talk about what God did with her life.  Her gift to me was to open the window to a new way of thinking in a small remote place in Kentucky.  As we were preparing to leave, a gentleman came up to me.  He said, "Ms. Helen was my fourth grade teacher.  Her teaching gave me the confidence to go on and become a teacher and leader in the school systems.  Now, I am a fundamental Baptist man, and what you did for me today was open me a bit to be more accepting of things I don't know about.....I would like to visit you in your area and hear you preach again."  As he said his statement, I could feel the ghosts of the ramblers in my head, flee and run out the door."

Funny as it might be, the place where I felt the most out of place was when I went for breakfast.  I love going into little mom and pop shops to eat, so that I get a sense of the local flavor.  I drove around the county square and finally found a little diner located on the corner of fourth street.  I knew I was in trouble when I noted that the only thing besides my ghetto van in the parking lot were thirteen double cab pick-up trucks lined along the side of the cafe.  I got out, looked around and went to the door.  Just as I entered the door,

fifteen sets of eyes from folks dressed in farming clothes and work clothes, glared at me from underneath their John Deer baseball caps and I felt as if I could hear the line from an old movie in the silence of their stare--'this place ain't big enough for the both of us".  You could have heard a pin drop as they looked.  i swear to you it was as if

I had interrupted some kind of sacred man ritual and was stepping out into some hollowed grease pit of a space.  They followed me as I walked in and over to the waitress.  I was looking good---unbrushed hair, sweats that did not match, t-shirt sticking out from under my sweat shirt. 

I whispered to the waitress, "Do you serve women in this place?"  She laughed and said, oh yeah, they just don't usually come in this early.  She took me to the back, gave me a greasy menu and served me wonderful food.  I had to laugh......

in this world, everywhere we go...

sacred ground awaits to be  broken and sometimes...

in the midst of our daily things

we are privy to actually walk on it and see the tilling....

sometimes when we are lucky we even get to see new

growth...on really good days...we're the one's doing the growing.

I heard a quote once that said, "There is no separation between the secular and the sacred."

and somewhere in between the funeral home and the cafe booth......I discovered this to be true and I ate and walked and preached on Holy Ground and for that Ms. Helen.....

I say thank you.