Drum

He gave the church his drum at the end of the service as a way of thanking us for the ministry he received that day.

He and his drum had staggered in to the church about 15 minutes before it was time to start. After visiting with me, he stumbled to the chairs and sat his drunken self down right in the middle of the room.

He played the drum during every song we sang. His rhythms were his own and had absolutely nothing to do with the songs the rest of the people were trying to sing.

During the quiet times and while I was preaching, he occasionally moaned, cried a little, and slurred a few words. These were usually accompanied by some random drumbeats.

All of this was to the complete dissatisfaction of those who had gathered that morning.

Once he presented the gift and left, a few people came to express their frustrations about what had just happened. Their concerns were legitimate and well-justified; it was a challenging hour for us all.

Then I relayed the conversation he and I had before the service.

Earlier that week he had been walking up the block by the church. A car had come around the corner. It missed him but hit and killed a girl who was on her way home from school. That day was fresh in all our minds, too.

In trying to deal with what he'd experienced he had come back to the scene that morning. He'd found the discarded toy drum along the way and had used it to keep his hands busy and accent his emotions.

As he left that corner he found himself standing in front of the church and he believed that God had put it there just for him that day.

We didn't have much we could do for him in the way of skills and resources. We couldn't fix his problems. But having a place to sit, to cry, to express himself, and to think about life itself was the ministry most needed that day.

And it's the kind of ministry I need sometimes, too.

I'm not always ready to have all my problems fixed and if people try to do so they just make things worse. I don't always need skills and resources used on me. Sometimes I just need to sit with a group of people who will let me think and make random expressions to try to process where I am.

Because life gets intense --- intensely troubling and intensely joyful. And intense times call a decompression that can only come in the presence of others and the Other.

So when you see me getting ready to beat my drum again and you know it's not in sync with what's happening around me, I beg a bit more grace than usual for a few minutes.

And I'll work at not trying to fix you when you need to bang things out now and again, too.

Then when we're done we can give those drums back to Him as we go back into the intensity life can bring.

Let the Comforter be among us, Lord.