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As I passed through the courtyard on the left side of the Chapel, I noticed the heavy, hewn, wood-beam benches had been replaced by dark metal, steel or aluminum ones (each with the University crest crafted into the top).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 It was sad to see that wooden beam bench had now been replaced by the modern metal.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.