A sad privilege.

I have been asked to lead Tony's funeral, the son of my firefighter friend, Ben. Tony is a 32 year old who has died needlessly in London. 

Nervous yet pleased.

I am nervous about taking it. It is a tragic death and the family are going through every parent's nightmare. I have to try to minister in this most difficult situation, to help them say their goodbyes and through that to assist the grieving process. It is a tall order. I will have to be on top of my game. I am thankful that I have quite a bit of time to give thought to what I will say and how I will say it. At the same time, however, I count it a very special calling to be able to be there and represent the love at the heart of the universe. I am allowed to be there and represent for them God's love. I am respected enough as God's representative in a secular setting to be trusted with this duty. I am, if one can say this about such a tragic situation, pleased to be there with them. It's a privilege. It is a confirmation of my belief that faith should not be locked behind church walls, but in the midst of the community.  

Privileged conversation.

I went to visit the family today. There was Tony's sister, his mum and dad and a little nephew and niece. I had a cuppa with them and they talked about Tony, the service and their feelings. I went there nervous, worried that I might stuff things up. I came away feeling that I had been a useful presence. But I felt I was privileged. These people had let me into their shared grief. For a short time I am allowed to be a part of their family and feel with them. It is a hard job, stretching your nerves and skills, but also a job in which you feel extremely privileged. It's a sacred and special honour to be allowed in at times like this. 

If you're into "prayer" or the mysterious sense of solidarity that prayer brings, remember this family in the next week or so. If you have time, think of me too as I try my best to support them.