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I'd already agreed to preach the funeral when my phone rang. The deceased was a 16-year-old girl who'd been killed in a fiery car accident. Like 90 percent of the memorial services I officiate as chaplain for funeral homes, I had never met the deceased or her family.

Now the funeral home director was calling again, with two requests: Would I be present when the parents viewed the body, and would I baptize her charred remains?

The first question wasn't a problem; the second was definitely outside my comfort zone and theological tradition. Instinctively, I knew the importance of my answer. If I said yes to both, how would my theologically correct friends respond? But if I immediately said no to the second, how could I hope to minister to the grieving parents?

Framed in those terms, my decision was not as difficult. I said yes, and met the parents at the funeral home to view the remains. Before baptizing her body by sprinkling, I gently explained to the parents that baptism is an outward sign of a spiritual reality, and that only God knew what was in their daughter's heart.

Later that night, I sat on their deck learning about their daughter. After we finished, the dad asked if I would like to see his daughter's room. He showed me her cheerleading trophies and pictures of her with her horse.

As we said goodbye, he told me that was the first time he had been in her room since the accident.

Would I have been invited to share that special moment if I had not baptized his daughter's body? I doubt it.

Just over three years ago when I left my previous church, my family and I wanted to stay in Janesville, a beautiful city of 60,000 in south central Wisconsin. We loved the community, we owned our home, and the schools were a great match for our kids, one of whom is disabled.

The challenge was how could I earn a living, be home more, and still have an effective ministry?

As we prayed, the concept of a chaplaincy began to crystallize. I have always enjoyed working with senior citizens, and, although it is an unusual niche, people have often told me, "You preach a great funeral!"

So I began exploring the possibilities. Large assisted living centers had their own chaplains, but many were too small to employ even a half-time position. I wondered, however, if perhaps they could use a chaplain for a couple hours a week. God blessed that idea, and the retirement home side of this new ministry was born.

Then some funeral directors told me about their growing need to find pastors to officiate for families who don't have a church home at the time of loss. They made it clear they did not want "generic funerals" that could be used for anyone, but rather personalized services that would honor the deceased.

Sensing God's prompting, preaching funerals for the unchurched became the second facet of this fledgling ministry.

What to call this new chaplain business? We settled on Autumn Life—for although autumn is when life fades, it is also a beautiful season of reflection, and nature's way of replanting for the future.

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