A different kind of cross

I met with a friend on a recent Saturday afternoon, and we ended up at the cemetery in a small town.

As we walked among the graves, he could recall the lives of almost everyone there. He knew who they were, when they lived, what they did and who their children were.

Cemeteries are more than just places to bury the dead. They are history. People leave us more than just headstones to remember them by.

I asked him if he had ever heard Fred Craddock’s story about visiting a graveyard in the low country of South Carolina. He had not, so I shared it with him.

Craddock is the former minister at Cherry Log Church in the mountains of north Georgia. Time magazine once called him one of America's 10 Best Preachers. In his book, "Craddock Stories,'' he recalled the time he was asked to preach in a rural church. Not far from the church, he happened upon an old cemetery.

Because of the shallow soil in the low country, there were concrete slabs above each grave the full length of the grave itself.

He noticed one large plot, which belonged to a local family, and he wandered over. The graves were all lined up except for one, which was turned crosswise, taking up three spaces. He was intrigued by the strange angle.

He asked a local man who was in the cemetery if he knew why the grave was situated in such an odd way.

“Because that’s the kind of guy he was,’’ said the man. “He was cross with everything. We never knew him to be pleased about anything, at home or at church.’’

Apparently the man could never be happy unless he was complaining. He was always fussing about something.

“The family decided that they wouldn’t try to change him just because he was dead, so they buried him crosswise,’’ said the man. “The family said, ‘If God wants to straighten him out, God can straighten him out!’ But he left here just like he lived.’’

Today is Sunday.

Let that be our sermon for today.