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Monday, February 27, 2012

Robbed

He phoned to offer me some consolation.

Word had gotten around that when we were setting up for the month’s youth fellowship night that we discovered some items missing. Our video game system had attached to sticky fingers and gone out the door of the church.

Again.

It’s frustrating when things are stolen, especially when you’re counting on using them. Not having the money to replace them makes it even worse.

So it was kind of him to call and I appreciated it.

In the conversation he was much more upset about things than I was. It wasn’t so much that he was stuck on the fact that the thing went missing. He just couldn’t get past that someone stole something from a church.

Getting worn down in his despair, I finally said, “You know, if things don’t get stolen from the church once in a while then were probably not working too hard at reaching the people who need to be here the most.”

Because, oddly enough, there was real victory in the robbery. It wasn’t a case of breaking and entering. Rather, someone who didn’t know how to operate under the most basic of Christian principles and ethics had actually been to church! The game’s absence proved it.

I’m not saying we should be foolish by leaving the doors unlocked or not follow appropriate safety and security measures. Rather, we need to be able to see through the pain and frustration of the crime and see it as a sign that we might just be doing something right.

Really, this shouldn’t be too foreign of a concept for us. After all, we have giant cross on the wall.

God, in all things we give you the glory!

Monday, February 20, 2012

Free

She stepped away from her booth during a lull in traffic and made a bee line to me. I was sitting just a few yards away registering people as they came into the church for health fair.

Her organization had been invited by one of the university's health fair planners. Her focus was on HIV and AIDS ----- awareness, prevention, testing, counseling, and the like.

And I had noticed her work. Focused, passionate, professional, compassionate care emulated from her as she provided absolute dignity and respect in each interaction with everyone who came to her booth. She was clearly working in the center of her calling and giftedness.

So as she came up to me she said, "I want to let you know how much I appreciate this space and the atmosphere you folks at this church have created here. I set up booths in churches, community centers, schools and lots of places all over this city and this is the only place I go where I feel completely free to do my job. No one here is judging me or the people who come to my booth. Lots of places get squeamish about me talking about condoms or hypodermic needles and, I mean, sometimes I know people need our services but they're afraid to stop by because of what others might think. That just isn't a problem here. I'm actually free to do my job and the people who come here feel free to let me do it. I'll come back here any time you want."

I responded in kind about how much we appreciated her work, but as she left I was hit with utter shame.

Here she was working for healing and wholeness in peoples lives. Here she was moving people toward greater righteousness. Here she was desperate to serve those who are often considered among the least in our society.

And yet day after day she only found hostile environments in which to she could operate. For that matter, she probably came to our building that afternoon expecting to be restricted in her service.

I hope her experience gave her some strength to carry on. I hope even more that those of us who are " . . . really and unquestionably free" (John 8:36 (AB)) will generously share that blessing.

Lord, let us be sanctuaries of life and freedom.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Ahold

Even I was hesitant about his baptism and confirmation. I'm quite generous when it comes to sharing in the sacraments and have received lots of raised eyebrows and occasional verbal criticism over the years about it. But this one was stretching me.

This kid had only come to church once or twice before and a couple of years had passed since he'd been to one of our activities. Though his age was still noted in single digits, he had a bit of a challenged reputation throughout the community. I wasn't sure if he had any idea of what the sacraments of baptism and confirmation were about.

But he showed up carrying a towel and change of clothes that morning, as did his cousins who were scheduled to be baptized. Grandma said she'd been teaching him about Jesus and the Bible and that he was ready. With her teaching, I felt even more confident that he really didn't know what this was all about.

At that point, with the service ready to start, I figured that trying to explain my hesitations and requesting he wait for either sacrament would cause confusion and division within the family. More harm would come from not doing as he and his grandmother requested so a little later in the hour he was baptized and confirmed along with his cousins.

Nearly a month later I was hanging out with the guys at the local Laundromat. While visiting, one asked me if I knew, or at least knew of, this kid. When I said, "Yes," they started to shake their heads in frustration over him and his situation.

But then a couple of the men excitedly interrupted to ask the others if they had seen him lately.

"Something must have happened to him a few weeks back," they noted. "It's like something got ahold of him. Yeah, like something really good got ahold of him. He's just different somehow -- and in a good way!"

They didn't know that he'd been baptized. They didn't know of the prayer confirming the Holy Spirit's presence in a new way in his life. They only knew that something really good had gotten ahold of him.

I have to wonder how many times I've let my fears about what other people might think and my own self doubt become barriers to the Spirit taking ahold of someone or something in my life. When did I think I was too good or too smart or too something -- anything -- to guide them to the Living Water? When did I think I was not good enough or not smart enough or not something -- anything -- to bring a confirmation of the presence of God in a situation?

My list of when the fears and doubts ruled the day dwarfs the few times I've gotten it right. But there is One who, despite my disconnect, my cluelessness, my misinformation, and my reputation invites me into His presence. And though I never really know what He's up to, I always seem to leave having had another drink from his fountain and being blessed by his touch.

I think he still has a little hope in me. And maybe if I faithfully hold tight enough to this hope, someone, even if it's just me the midst of all my dirty laundry, will note that something Good has gotten ahold of me.

Lord, let my hope be in You alone.