Envious

I'm sitting in the lobby and cafe area of a Durham hotel, snacking on a lite dinner. The only way into this cafe/living space is by card entry or the hotel's front door. A knock at the door was quickly responded to by another guest at a nearby table. After all, it was pouring rain. However, once the family made their way in, it seemed fairly evident they weren't guests. Their conversation was audibly louder than those in the lobby. I could tell the couple who let them in was pondering the same thing. I had been there almost 4 days now and all I had seen were basically working professionals. This motley crew, on the other hand, looked perhaps like a mom, three young children, and a teenager. The meal hostess came out from the kitchen and when she saw them she greeted them warmly and shared hugs all around. They were somehow related or part of her family. "Great," I thought to myself while enjoying a quiet snack. "I bet they showed up just for a free dinner."
Well, It turns out that's exactly what they did. But, almost as soon as I felt that thought escape from my conscience, I felt embarrassed and ashamed. It turns out, I was there for the exact same thing. It was an evening hospitality dinner for hotel guests as a way of making you feel at home. I had not paid for it, nor was I entitled to this pleasant hotel amenity. On top of that, the generous philanthropy of James B. Duke was paying for 80% of my stay.
What is it inside of us that lends us so quickly to rush to jealousy or flirt with entitlement? Luckily, if we take a moment to consider our response, we'll often discover the issue has more to do with grace - a concept we are far from comfortable with. At times, it seems the Church, myself included, considers grace to be a scarce commodity rather than a sustainable resource.
I've always thought the parable of the laborers to be a remarkable gift in the way it pierces our human condition and offers a glimpse of God's nature. "Or is your eye evil, because I am good?" Today it pierced me.

Shining like a burning bush

It seems Fall is finally creeping it's way down the rolling hills and mountain valleys into the piedmont and sandhills. I've finally turned the heat on and there's a chill in the air. Winter is coming, the nights are longer, echoes of death and hibernation are whispered about. And yet, there is still a burst of vibrancy, a last hurrah, in the brilliant colors of leaves or the beaming glow of family gatherings around tables, stadiums, and community grills. I can't help hearing the words of an Ed Kilbourne song running through my head as I wait expectantly for the tree in our backyard to complete its transformation. "This morning, outside I stood, and saw a little red-winged bird, Shining like a burning bush, singing like a scripture verse." I love Fall. I love the chill before the warmth. I love the giant harvest moon just above the horizon in the early evening. Everything, everything, everything is holy now.

Court appearance

If you've never spent the morning in a county courthouse for roll call, you should. For that matter, if you've never sat in on a trial, (district court or superior court) you should.
Usually, you'll hear folks complain and dread being called up for jury duty 1 day in about 7 years. We can't stand to waste our time in the court system. But, there's a forgotten population of folks for which the court system is a way of life. I knew when I stepped in the courtroom that morning, I was in the right place. Words won't do "justice" to describe the scene. But, if Jesus were still enfleshed he'd have been there, hung out there, conversed outside on the steps during breaks. (Of course, you might say he is in flesh in us, and you'd be right. That's why we should probably spend more time there).
There was a hodgepodge of folks packed in that Monday morning. One couple, or family, or aquaintances came in dragging 6 kids with them. None of them could have been over 4 and the youngest of which was being held. Who knows how many times they'd been in a courtroom already and hardly four years old.
During breaks, everyone clears the courtroom to use the phone or restroom, and many go for a smoke or fresh air.
I'll never forget the image I spotted that morning before heading back upstairs to the courtroom. It was one of those little children, (probably around 3 years old), with a sippy cup in hand and climbing the stairwell to the courtroom. No guardians or adults in sight. Just a little man with sippy cup in hand, making his way upstairs for a court appearance. It broke my heart to think what might be in store for that young boy. Was he getting familiar practice for a rocky future? Was it a foreshadowing of things to come, imprinting a cruel destiny before he ever has so much as a chance? I pray not. Not if I have anything to do with it. (And believe me, we all have something to do with it).

Adoption

We're celebrating eight months of adoption with our cat, Simon bar Jonah. It's almost as if he's always been part of our family. We couldn't ask for a better one. He's so cute and even likes to help with sermon prep. :)
Yet, even now, as trusting and loving as he is, there are some things he's just not comfortable with. We're not exactly sure of all the details of his previous home, but we do know he must have been thrown at times. He'll sit close to you but, he'll never actually walk over you or serve as a laptop. And, if you start to pick him up, he panics and wiggles loose. We've come to accept that but, we continue to offer and show him as much love as possible. He may never be able to feel comfortable enough to sit in our lap or be held. But, we won't give up trying and we won't give up loving him.
The newsletter from the adoption center came this week too. Inside were a handful of short descriptions and pictures of other Siamese waiting for adoption: Lizzie- senior, diabetic; Marigold - age & hyperthyroidism; Beauty- thrown from a car; Curry- terrified of people; Chance- old, deaf, grumpy, renal failure; Neville- diabetic, geezer; Catnip- 2nd time foster, shy, timid, not people oriented. It's not exactly an attractive list of qualities. It sounds more like a hospital list or chart of flaws and imperfections. Who would want to mess with or deal with any of those miserable cats? The funny thing is, when we open our eyes and look around, there are an awful lot of people like that out there - whose lives seem to be a pitiful mess. We might even be bold enough to admit ourselves among them. If we had any common sense, we'd just put them out of their misery. Luckily, there are people who aren't governed so much by common sense as they are God sense. We often wonder what the kingdom of God might look like. I think it looks an awful lot like adoption and the folks who won't give up trying and won't give up loving them. That is, after all, what God does for us. That's what God wants the Church to look like too - People who look around and see a host of folks with unattractive qualities, deeply flawed, whose lives are falling apart, and decide that no matter what they're not going to give up trying to love them.

Outside looking in

It was one of those crazy Sunday's with 4 services in one day (luckily i cancelled the 5th a few weeks earlier). The 4th that day was a Homecoming celebration at our 223 yr old church in the woods near the Pee Dee. There's a renovated restroom out back that's only used once a month. My wife just happened to be the one to use it this month. Except, when she tried to exit, she found herself trapped thanks to a faulty doorknob. It was hard not to laugh at the situation. If you'd have been there you'd have realized just how comical it all played out. (Including trying to open the window that was painted shut). However, after a while the humor turned to frustration, anxiety, and panic.
It's always interesting, even comical, when you're the one on the outside looking in. But, the story takes on an entirely different character when you're the one locked in. I wonder how many folks out there feel trapped where they are, frustrated, scared, and suffocating. Yet, most of us will never know. We'll simply keep plugging along. Everything's just fine out here. Rarely do we stop to consider what it feels like to be the one trapped inside. But, be careful what you ask for. If you want God to provide you with opportunities to identify with and be relationally involved with others - you might just get what you asked for.

Season of change

Last week I returned to Duke University for the first time in 2.5 years for a required seminar with the Board of Ordained Ministry. It was quite an experience traveling back to a campus I had loved since I was youth, and where I spent 4 of the last 7 years of my life. So much had changed and yet so much was just the same. The faces were different, but it was still a richly diverse academic community. New construction, development, and road widening could be seen everywhere. Yet, the great mainstays of the community, like Duke Chapel, were just as beautiful as before.

As I passed through the courtyard on the left side of the Chapel, I noticed the heavy, hewn, wood-beam benches had been replaced by dark metal, steel or aluminum ones (each with the University crest crafted into the top). I remember numerous afternoons sitting here cramming for a Greek quiz or some other last minute reading. It’s also where I received a call about a potential part-time first appointment to serve during my 4th year of school. (I later declined the offer because I wanted to make the most of my last year at Duke and in Durham). More than anything, I remember that bench because I proposed to my wife there. I chuckled to myself as I thought about all the scheming that went into making that moment happen. It was sad to see that wooden beam bench had now been replaced by the modern metal. Nevertheless, that was still the spot. I wondered what happened to those old wood benches. Where did they go? I wondered if I could still track them down and purchase it for memory’s sake. Maybe they were recycled. And, if so, I wonder what purpose they now serve or who’s benefiting from them.

I continued to reminisce on my way home as traveled from Chapel Hill down 15-501S. It was a route that connected to US 1 and became quite familiar to me in my final years of undergrad at USC. I learned that route well as I travelled that 4 hour route back and forth between Columbia and Chapel Hill to visit a special girl I met on a mission trip back in 2001. There’s a Lowes Foods on the right hand side just before you get into Chapel Hill where I would always stop to buy flowers. They made some of the most exotic and beautiful arrangements you could imagine for a fraction of the cost of a typical florist. As I passed, now on my way back to Anson, I suddenly had the crazy thought of picking up flowers (even if we had a yard full back home). I made a U-turn at the next crossroads and went back to Lowes Foods to check the flowers. Unfortunately, I was disappointed to find that the quality of flowers seemed to have dropped over the years. The prices seemed to have remained stable but the quality of arrangements were about what you’d expect from a typical grocery store. Gone were the vibrant and elaborate creations of a few years earlier. So I went home empty handed but full of great memories.

In many ways, going back changes us. We realize we’ve come a long way. The bench outside Duke Chapel and the Lowes Foods brought back a flood of memories, warm fuzzy feelings, that brought me back to a time I was so in love. But, things had changed there. And, things had changed in me. I’m still so in love. But, I learned other facets of that love. There’s more to it than trying to figure out how to manipulate a Tarheel into having a soft spot for Duke, the stories I made up to get her to come to that bench that afternoon, and the forethought and planning to make sure what followed was a special celebration. There’s another side to love than trinkets and flowers every time you turn around. There’s nothing wrong with showering the one you love with those things. But, over time, I’ve seen a deeper side of love that means simply holding one another in the sad and painful times or just being present rather than bringing presents.

Cold call

Another weekday afternoon that just happened to be my day for volunteer chaplain duty at the hospital. There were no voice mails or written requests for a chaplain that afternoon. Even after checking at the nurse's station, I found no recommendations. So, I decided to round the floor and drop in on a patient or two, introduce myself, and offer any support from chaplain services. We used to call these cold calls in CPE. Neither the patient nor myself knew what to expect going into those encounters. (Not to be confused with Cold Case). The first was a friendly face. We've crossed paths from my many visits to Meadowview.

It was the second cold call that through me for a loop. I noticed the patient just sitting propped up in a recliner, covered with blankets, and all alone. Appearance alone seemed to indicate a different social class and a difficult life. This is why we're here - Enable folks to be heard, to feel valued. I entered and introduced myself. Immediately, the patient was alert and began moaning and moving her mouth. After a few seconds, I realized any speaking ability was severely limited and she was obviously in pain. There were no words. She tried moving her mouth to communicate but there was only a syallable here or there. I wasn't sure if it was a developmental disability, the result of her illness, her medication, or even a lack of education, but I had clearly bitten off more than I could chew. I tried a few more sentences initiating conversation. This time a little slower and clearer, only to receive a simialar moan and wince in response. At the same time, it seemed as if she wanted me in there. I looked myself over. Dressed up, nametag, clipboard in hand. Great, I thought to myself. She thinks I'm the doctor. What have I gotten myself into. Lord, get me out of here, I confessed to myself. In the next few seconds I tried to make it clear I was a pastor, not a doctor. I think she understood, even when I offered a blessing she seemed willing. You have to be careful when there's a communication barrier. You never want to violate a persons belief systems or values by forcing your own. So a word of blessing is appropriate. But, without any other knowledge, invoking Jesus' name over her would have been overstepping that trust. I said my goodbyes and made my exit (inwardly breathing a sigh of relief). What was I thinking? Glad that was over with, I thought to myself.
It's not always easy to answer a call to ministry on a daily basis or at any given moment - even when you're a 'minister'. There are some things that are just easier for us to stomach than others and we all have been pushed outside our comfort zones. That's how we grow. I knew God had been stretching me again that day - especially when I returned home and began looking at the lectionary psalm. And there it was in the 2nd verse: "Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard; yet their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world." The language of God. I felt ashamed and a little embarassed of my thoughts and feelings earlier. As it turns out, I was the abnormal one in the room. If God does it without words, telling the glory of God, why can't we. Perhaps that's exactly what she did on that weekday afternoon cold call.