Real reason

          It's almost eight in the evening and the phone rings.  It's the county hospital.  Today was actually my assigned volunteer day.  The desk informs me that someone has requested a chaplain.  I try to trouble shoot to see if this was an emergency and I need to come in that evening.  It's possible this was just a routine request and someone new to the protocol just saw me listed and direct dialed this evening.  The receptionist is unaware of the situation, so she transfers me back to ER.  After a brief dialogue with an ER staffer, I'm no better off.  I make the call to go in anyway just in case this is an EOL (end of life) scenario.  By the time I check in and make my way to the ER, the gentleman who made the request (we'll call him John) is about to be moved to a room.  I enter, introduce myself, meet John, and attempt to diagnose his spiritual need that evening.  It turns out, John is more interested in the tv and food he will get that night than he is to talk with a chaplain.  He basically admits to just checking it off the addmittal form, along with a lot of other stuff.  John wasn't really looking for a chaplain that night.  He was just looking for anything.  Evidently, he wasn't used to the basic comforts we have each day like a room, a tv, a hot meal, and blankets.  I get John an extra blanket and we pray before I take my leave. 

          Since I'm already there, I move up to the second floor to see if anyone else needs a chaplain that evening.  A nurse refers me to 214 where I encounter a family that was actually entering the building the same time I did moments earlier.  There's a remarkably well-aged lady with long white hair resting in the bed, attached to oxygen, and largely unresponsive.   Her daughter, son-in-law, and only grandson are the only folks in the room.  Over the course of about 35 minutes, I discover the real reason I was called up there that night.  Sarah has lived a rich, full life for over 90 years but she's not expected to make it through the week.  Her grandson just got in after a 7.5 hour drive from WV.  He's likely in his late 30's but is getting married for the first time next week.  It's a unique meeting of beginnings and endings in the room that night.  For the next half hour, I'm privleged to share in it.  I leave grateful for what we encountered in that room that night in each other and in our prayers.  Shortly after Sarah comes off the machine the next morning, she dies.  Her grandson will head back to WV to wed his fiance.  John will have another night to enjoy in a room until they regulate his seizures and blood sugar.  And I'll remember that sometimes the real reason you are needed for something isn't always what you expect.

It's good to be seen

          Sam sits on the stairwell at the corner of an abandoned building in town. You can find him here most afternoons and mornings. There's nothing particularly significant about this building. Most buildings in town are vacant or abandoned. That seems to be the case now in most downtowns or Main Streets around the country. Sam of course isn't always confined to the stairwell either. Sometimes he's crouched by the doorway, sometimes leaning against a glass storefront, sometimes wandering the sidewalks on either side of the street. Most of you may even have a Sam in your town. Some would say he's homeless. While I'm fairly certain he doesn't have a house of his own, he certainly has a home - and I get to drive, jog, and stroll through it most any day of the week. He'll walk or hitch a ride to a residence each morning and evening. But the town, that's Sam's home. If you asked him, he might even tell you that. I don't know him well but I do know he has a heart. I do know his eyes light up when he smiles. He's actually a very intelligent individual and he has a mother still living in a local care facility. Sam is one of the few people I know who could tell you that the date for Christmas is probably closer to early Fall or late Summer. It has little to do with when Christ was actually born and more about offsetting pagan holidays and rituals. I know because we've had that conversation before. Sam is a man of faith for sure, and he's an informed one.

           This particular day is a rare occasion. I was on my way somewhere, or returning from something, so I was actually driving to check my PO Box instead of my usual 3 1/2 block walk. I left the car on and threw up a hand at Sam across the way as I dashed into the post office to grab my mail. A few seconds later, I step out, dart across the street, and personally shake Sam's hand to say hello. His eyes light up because he has one those big smiles on his face and we exchange a few pleasantries about the day or the weather. I ask about his mom briefly and he affirms she's doing well. Not knowing what else to add, and with the car still running, I give him a combination handshake/hug and tell him it's good to see him. Looking straight into my eyes, with his wide grin and laugh, he tells me "It's good to be seen." I dart back to the car and head on to wherever I was going or wherever I was coming from. I don't really remember. What I do remember is an authentic joy in Sam's smile and laugh that day and his words which echoed through my mind that afternoon: "It's good to be seen."

          I wonder how many had "seen" Sam that day? I wonder how many of us see Sam any day - in this town, or the next?   I wonder if Sam's words aren't an expression of every human being's desire - just to be seen, recognized, an acknowledgement of existence?  I try to remember that whenever I get where I'm going.  Whoever I find there probably just wants the same thing too.  "It's good to be seen."

Letter to a friend

I hope it’s okay that I’m writing. You’ve been in my thoughts and prayers for many months now and I felt led to offer a word of encouragement as you embark on a new beginning.

I’ve never dealt “personally” with the demons of addiction but I have known it in my own family. While I don’t know how it truly feels to wrestle with something like that day by day or hour by hour, I must say you came to mind as I prayed a prayer our DS recently shared with me.

In the new year I do not wish for you
that God will bless you,
since God already intends
only the deepest blessings for you.
I don't wish that good things will happen to you,
since I don't know
what will most beautifully shape your soul—
in what losses you will receive grace,
in what challenges you will gain wisdom,
in what struggles you will become more truly yourself.

It speaks a truth of uncertainty and admits that I don’t know “in what losses you will receive grace, in what challenges you will gain wisdom, in what struggles you will become more truly yourself.” And, it even proposes a scandalous idea that somehow there is blessing in our deepest valley and driest desert.

Never presuming to have walked in your shoes, I do however believe there is some truth to that prayer and idea. Perhaps on this side of the coin and the start of the new year, you too look back at those moments (as I often do) and find yourself pondering the question - “why?” Sometimes, I think I’ll never know and I’ve learned to be okay with that. And sometimes, I’ve found, as the prayer suggests, that those struggles have made me more truly myself.

I imagine David, the one whom OT writers identify as a person after God’s own heart, found himself asking the “why” question a great deal as well. Why he was to be king, why Saul hated him, why he couldn’t build the temple, why he could succumb to temptation so easily? You wouldn’t think of him as a man with uncertainty given the brash boldness he displays against a giant as young boy. With one swing of a sling and a pebble, he crushes an entire army. But, David is not always that certain.

We all have our own giants to face and most of them are not defeated with simply a quick swing of a sling. In the 61st Psalm, a psalm attributed to David, we find a much more uncertain and overwhelmed David. Here, he begins from a place of weakness and deep distress – from the end of the earth. Rock bottom. That’s the David I know more easily. Not simply a David crowned hero for his ability to wield a rock, but rather who knows what it’s like to hit rock bottom. And here’s the best part. This larger than life character, known the world over for what he did with a rock, cries out “lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

I am so grateful for the points of light that are brightening your life this year. I’m proud of you for standing up to your giants. You are not alone. And my prayer for you in the months and years ahead are the exact words of David: “Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

God love you as He always has. And God use you up, day by day, for real ministry in His world. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

There and back again

Hello blog. Fancy meeting you here. :)
On March 27, 2011 life changed in a big way. I welcomed my daughter into the world in the wee hours of that morning. Since then, you can tell I've done very little in the way of posts. However, yesterday I had a spark that nudged me to return again. I've always been enriched in sharing a few thoughts in writing (even if no one else is reading). So, starting this month, expect to see some new posts very soon. Until then, may those to whom love is a stranger find in you a generous friend.

Prayer for a nation

A friend gave me hope this morning when she posted this from the Book of Common Prayer. It gave me the courage to post again. Father forgive us, we know not what we do.
O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth; deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. -BCP, 1979

Awkward silence

There is a moment of suspended silence just after our prayer of confession and before the pastor offers a word of assurance and pardon on Communion Sundays. This awkward silence is often noted in the bulletin by a small phrase in parenthesis that reads (followed by silent prayer). We finish reciting a communal prayer of confession and then there is silence - an opportunity for individuals to share in their heart personal confessions of sin to God. While some can’t wait for the silence to end and move to the next thing, I must confess there are some Sundays when I wish it would last longer. In fact, one of the things that bothers me most in worship is when such a space of time is ordered into the service, but the presider resumes so quickly I’ve barely had time to finish my first thought. It’s not surprising that folks would want to trim or cut short confessing our sins before God. We’re simply not accustomed to a life of self-examination. Often, abbreviating this quiet confession isn’t even intentional. But, most days, I just need more awkward silence.
Jesus & John had a lot to say about the reality that God's kingdom has come near. Someone once wrote: "If the kingdom is coming, we have to begin to live by the king’s rules." In that case, I could use a little awkward silence.

Exercise in futility

Winter weather abounds if you are anywhere near the Southeastern U.S. Many, like myself, find themselves homebound for another day and glued to 24-hour news coverage by multiple crews reporting in locations across the state. Each station provides hourly updates on the natural progression of water shifting into a different state of matter. It's not that nothing else is happening in the world today; it's just that nothing else is happening in "our" world today. It's amusing to see trained journalists devote so much time and attention to how water is morphed from a liquid into a solid (or vice versa). What's more amusing is I've been watching their exclusive coverage all morning.
The unique thing about all the weather related news across the South this week is it's also an analogy for our human condition. The tv reports all cast this winter weather as an epic battle with road crews, government officials, and common citizens drawing up detailed plans of action. Barely 24 hours have passed since the "onslaught" of precip began and folks are trying everything possible to make sure they are freed from their homes. Officials and crews are doing everything to ensure roads are navigable. Everything about the coverage and our response tells us, in as far as possible, we must maintain life and business as usual. We cannot afford to allow interruption or give the appearance that we are not in control at any given moment. The updates of closings and delays stream across the screen like a list of casualties or lost battles. As the days progress, the shrinking list offers hope the tide has turned and we once again have the upper hand.
I love winter weather. Primarily because you can't do anything about it. You can have as many generators, plows, shovels, technology, or salt that you want; but, if Mother Nature wants to leave a wallop of freezing temperatures and precipitation, something will be coming to halt (at least momentarily). Any effort to prove otherwise is only an exercise in futility.
I tend to think things are much the same for us when God tries make himself known in our lives - to get our attention, plead for us to listen, slow us down, or steer us another direction. Most of the time, we will put a fight. We'll spend years implementing strategic plans to assert control over our own life; reaching the end, we'll wonder why we had wasted so much of our time. In the end, all God wanted was for us to slow down - to be enlightened enough to recognize we were never really in control after all.
Happy snow days!