Emphasis Preaching Journal

Love and forgiveness are beautiful ideas, until someone wounds us deeply. A man in a small Kentucky community was murdered, allegedly by his cousin, and his wife asked me to preside at the memorial service. He came from a large family of mountain folk, so every room in the funeral home was filled with his relatives. The air crackled with collective desire for revenge. "Hatred begets more hatred," I said during the homily, "and bitterness -- however intense -- must not define us. Vengeance may seem sweet, but it cannot heal. Revenge is like burning down one's house to get rid of a rat. Only the love and grace of God and family will enable a person to endure great injustice and loss." During the closing music, the funeral home director urged me to step into a back hall. "That was the finest funeral sermon I have ever heard," he told me, placing his hands across my shoulders and propelling me forward. "And here is the back door. I suggest you use it right now!" -- Bristow