I rarely get to sit at weddings. But I’ve stood in more than 200 of them. And may I say, I usually get the best, um, standing position in the house.
I’m not talking about seeing the bride make her way down the aisle – everybody gets up to see that. The best place to stand in a wedding is next to the groom. When they fling that door open and she comes in on Daddy’s arm, I can sense it. I can feel it. Heck, sometimes I can hear it.
There in that least-photographed moment, an otherwise robust, strong-hearted man melts. I’ve seen grown men cry. I’ve seen them rendered speechless. I’ve sensed their breathing and pulse increase. I’ve heard them say under their breath, “Ummph,” or “Wow,” which sorta says it all.
Friends and family have helped his beloved adorn herself. For him. And in that moment, there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his bride. Nothing he wouldn’t say to express the depth of his love for her and the level of his commitment to her.
And after that, they both live happily ever after. [click to continue…]
Dylan hadn’t smiled for days. His grandmother, whom he loved dearly, had died, and the ten-year-old was crushed. His friends were worried about him, and convinced him to visit their special friend, an old man they called The Storyteller. The Storyteller loved children, and often helped them with the special stories he would make up. The Storyteller also knew Dylan’s grandmother.
“This is Dylan,” one of the kids said that Monday afternoon. “His grandmother died last week, and he’s very sad.”
The Storyteller looked up from his gardening and sized up the boy. “Sad” was an understatement.
“Looks like she found the Big Surprise,” said the Storyteller, with a twinkle in his eye.
“What’s the Big Surprise?” asked Dylan dejectedly.
“Well, let me tell you about it,” said the old man as he turned to sit on the grass and the kids sat around him. [click to continue…]
It took more than 25 years, but I finally met Jesus at a wedding. And when I did, I made peace with weddings in general. I’d like to tell you how.
For years I have made the statement that I’d rather do a funeral any day than a wedding. Yeah, yeah, I know that sounds twisted, vile, and patently un-American. But from a ministry perspective, there’s no comparison. Unlike weddings, at the funeral:
- The family will actually listen to what I have to say.
- Nobody has spent years fantasizing and obsessing about how this will be the perfect day.
- The cost, even with caskets and cemetery plots, is usually less.
- Long-term success is assured – deceased persons don’t have a 50/50 chance of changing their minds at a later date.
- Prospective candidates aren’t inundated with supermarket magazines modeling the latest casket fashions.
- There are no attendants who are required to buy swishy dresses or rent tuxedos.
- People don’t “experiment” by cohabitating with the casket for a year or two to see if there’s a fit.
- Photographers don’t roam freely about the service, or dominate the entire reception.
- Expenses can be offset by life insurance. (Try telling your insurance agent you need wedding coverage.)
- People actually give some thought to life after the ceremony.
Simply put, marriage is made in heaven, but weddings (aka American Idolatry) are made in hell.
An Idea Born of Necessity
All that changed a couple of years ago, however, when I was doing premarital counseling with two couples who had a similar problem. [click to continue…]
“You wanna see what the room looks like?” Geoffrey asked. “The room” was the hotel room where my son was staying. Geoffrey was his best man and is his best friend.
I was a bit out of the loop. I thought I was going to be looking at a brochure of the Houston Marriott or something. What Geoffrey brought instead was a camera.
Off and on during this wedding day I had wondered what the heck Joel was up to. Why was he running behind? Why wasn’t he at the church when I thought he was supposed to be? Why were people calling, looking for him? What was so important?
I had showed up at the church about 4:45 – 15 minutes late myself. He was nowhere to be found. Getting the car washed, Geoffrey said.
Car washed! Photographer was waiting, people were wondering, and he? He was washing.
Now, some five hours later, that clean car has just left the building with the newlyweds on board. And Geoffrey is scrolling through the pictures on his camera. These weren’t publicity pics. They were the results of a groom’s labor to prepare a place – a special place – for his bride. I’ll spare you the details, but there were candles, rose petals, a picnic basket, and much more, I’m sure.
[click to continue…]
