I am a funeral director (I am typing this right now, in my office at the funeral home). Being a funeral director and an ambassador of Jesus Christ, I deal with this quite often and it must be handled, as all things pertaining to God, with wisdom.
I remember when I first started working as a mortician, I was implored to deliver a sermon for a family that was earnestly requesting a minister. I had about a 2 hour notice; I was working in the morgue doing technical work and my boss came in and told me he was in a real bind. We had already scheduled a minister to preach the funeral, but at the last moment he had to decline and the family was now desperately seeking someone to fill his place.
The dread hit me. How could I preach a funeral sermon for a stranger without stating the obvious? My dilemma was this: How could I be true to my God and yet not overly offend everyone in attendance and put my boss and his good, honest business in a dangerous predicament?
Divine wisdom was at need at the spur of the moment; I didn't want to speak, I knew the thin ice I'd be treading on, the risk of turning the entire funeral into a disaster -- even a possible lawsuit slapped on the funeral home for mental distress. And yet, amidst all these fears, I sensed the leading of the Holy Spirit to speak. I finally (but reluctantly) told my boss I would do it.
"Great!" he said. "Let's get ready to go to the cemetery."
In the hearse I prayed, prayed for wisdom. For all I knew, this could have been a suicide. Everyone would expect me to state the banal, cliche thing of "being in a better place now" and "God called him to come home to Jesus" and other untruths. When I arrived at the cemetery, the son came right up to me and shook my hand and gleefully thanked me. He asked me to keep it short, under 10 minutes. He also asked me to recite the 23rd Psalm at some point. Then he stuffed an envelope in my jacket pocket (with a 100 dollar bill in it, as I discovered later, back at the funeral home).
When it was time to speak, I stood by the casket, and opened my mouth to begin the message (I still had no idea what to say, I was virtually trembling in my shoes and trusting God all the way) and it was as if the Holy Spirit in an instant gave me everything on a golden platter.
The wisdom God gave me was this, and I spoke: "If (I think his name was John) could come back this instant and speak to all of us here under this tent, his message would be exclusive and to the point and as earnest as anything ever spoken by anyone in all of history - John would tell us all to believe the gospel of Jesus Christ. He would tell us all to repent and believe the gospel of Jesus Christ."
Then I went on to speak to all the individual consciences there, and I implored each man, woman, and child to respect John's request by looking into their own hearts and evaluating where they stood concerning such a pleading. If they haven't yet believed the gospel, why not? If they have, but still practice sin, why haven't they repented? Are they ready to meet God even at this moment, should He call them like He called John?
I recited Psalm 23 as the son requested, and then closed in prayer asking God to embed this message in all their hearts, that we would be ready for the judgment we all must face after death.
I ended just like that, on the note of "judgment" in Jesus' Name. It sure was quiet! I looked out and saw all the faces, my boss's (he's Roman Catholic) face, maybe 100 people all solemn and challenged in the cemetery. And I sensed the Lord speaking in my heart, a still, quiet, peaceful voice saying, "Well done, Paul. Thank you for trusting Me."
After the funeral, a few days later, my boss told me that the son called to specifically express how grateful he was for that message.
Brother Paul