"Just take these," she said as she hoisted four men's coats into my hands. She had turned her head, seeming both to not want to watch as she let go of the garments and not wanting me to notice the puffiness of her eyes that were holding back the remaining tears.
I knew the coats had come at a great cost. I had seen them before. They were hanging in her house right where her husband had left them. In the years since his passing they had been reminders of his presence, reminders of the blessing she'd lost.
But cold came early that fall. And when she saw the cardboard sign being held by the shivering hands of a homeless man she knew was my friend she had to do something.
The moment when grief for what was lost is overtaken by grief for those who never had something to begin with puts us in a position of challenge. And when we boldly, painfully choose to respond by taking the blessings from our past and using them to heal the present the Spirit can't seem to help but move.
I took those coats to four very different men: tall, short, stout, lean. I said to each, "I don't know if this will fit; it might be a too _____________ (short, long, small, bulky) but try it on and we'll see."
And though these men would need to shop in different sections of stores to find well-fitting clothing, each coat appeared as if custom tailored for that individual. Warm memories of blessings past, baptized by tears, transformed into blessings of warmth against today's cold winds.
Lord, help me know Your presence in all attempts to serve You.
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Friday, November 19, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Terminal
He lamented the same topic each time we visited. His girlfriend had a terminal illness.
I never met his girlfriend; I never knew her name. I don't know where she lived, though he was basically homeless so I'm not sure how that all worked anyway. Occasionally he would ask that I remember her in prayer.
The thing with her illness was that, though there was no cure, her death from it was not expected any time soon. In fact, the disease didn't have a direct obvious impact on her physical well being. She was in the very early stages of this slowly progressing illness and the doctors had predicted it would have minimal impact on her for the next 10 years. The prognosis was for gradual decline after that. Since she was already in her late 50s, with mindful monitoring she would most likely live for what most people would consider a full life.
None of this seemed to matter to him, though. The fact that she had a terminal illness obsessed his mind and depleted his well-being.
One day as he again lamented about the situation, I turned to him and was surprised to hear the following statement come out of my mouth:
"You know, we're all terminal. She just knows what from."
He gave me an odd look and changed the topic of conversation.
I saw him again about a week later. He looked about 2 inches taller and 10 years younger. His demeanor, actions, and conversation were filled with a new vitality. In our visits from that time forward he no longer obsessed about the terminal nature of his girlfriend's illness. He would occasionally mention that her illness was terminal but always followed it with a grin and the words, " . . . but, we all are."
That little statement changed his life for the better. When I remember it my life is better, too.
There are only a few material things like pyramids and Great Walls and Colosseums that have survived the ages and they're mostly in some state of ruin. Virtually all of the music ever composed or words ever written will never be heard again. The churches that Paul helped establish are not mega-churches or beacons of Christianity today.
Some might find that depressing. For me it's a relief. It takes the pressure off of me and reorders priorities. Sermons and public prayers change from speaking words today for all eternity to speaking eternal words for today. Building a church that will endure changes from setting things up now that will be right forever to forever setting things up that will be right for now.
Ministry comes not in monuments but in moments, and moments are fleeting. We're all terminal; our works, our ideas, our selves.
And just once in a while I have a day when I'm not obsessively lamenting that fact. It's then that I can let the One who was and is and is to come fully invade and embrace His terminal creation known as me, bringing with Him into this fleeting moment the vitality of His everlasting life.
Thank you, God, for each moment. Free me from my focus on the temporary to live fully in Your presence.
I never met his girlfriend; I never knew her name. I don't know where she lived, though he was basically homeless so I'm not sure how that all worked anyway. Occasionally he would ask that I remember her in prayer.
The thing with her illness was that, though there was no cure, her death from it was not expected any time soon. In fact, the disease didn't have a direct obvious impact on her physical well being. She was in the very early stages of this slowly progressing illness and the doctors had predicted it would have minimal impact on her for the next 10 years. The prognosis was for gradual decline after that. Since she was already in her late 50s, with mindful monitoring she would most likely live for what most people would consider a full life.
None of this seemed to matter to him, though. The fact that she had a terminal illness obsessed his mind and depleted his well-being.
One day as he again lamented about the situation, I turned to him and was surprised to hear the following statement come out of my mouth:
"You know, we're all terminal. She just knows what from."
He gave me an odd look and changed the topic of conversation.
I saw him again about a week later. He looked about 2 inches taller and 10 years younger. His demeanor, actions, and conversation were filled with a new vitality. In our visits from that time forward he no longer obsessed about the terminal nature of his girlfriend's illness. He would occasionally mention that her illness was terminal but always followed it with a grin and the words, " . . . but, we all are."
That little statement changed his life for the better. When I remember it my life is better, too.
There are only a few material things like pyramids and Great Walls and Colosseums that have survived the ages and they're mostly in some state of ruin. Virtually all of the music ever composed or words ever written will never be heard again. The churches that Paul helped establish are not mega-churches or beacons of Christianity today.
Some might find that depressing. For me it's a relief. It takes the pressure off of me and reorders priorities. Sermons and public prayers change from speaking words today for all eternity to speaking eternal words for today. Building a church that will endure changes from setting things up now that will be right forever to forever setting things up that will be right for now.
Ministry comes not in monuments but in moments, and moments are fleeting. We're all terminal; our works, our ideas, our selves.
And just once in a while I have a day when I'm not obsessively lamenting that fact. It's then that I can let the One who was and is and is to come fully invade and embrace His terminal creation known as me, bringing with Him into this fleeting moment the vitality of His everlasting life.
Thank you, God, for each moment. Free me from my focus on the temporary to live fully in Your presence.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Lights
I was at the "Why do I even bother?!?" point. Recent weeks had shown battle after battle fought with no victory in sight.
The state had recently approved slot machine gambling as its newest form of taxation. The city was working feverishly to establish a gambling hall only a few blocks from the church.
Under the guise of "helping," neighbors had organized and taken a NIMBY (Not In My Back Yard) approach to the issue of homelessness by having the people who lived under the bridge bussed to a shelter. Drivers at the off-ramp would no longer be bothered. (Given my familiarity with living conditions in most shelters, I would probably choose a freeway bridge over a shelter if I found myself needing to make that choice.)
The list of these types of events went on and on. The world's self-focus, exclusive dependence on the senses, and short-sighted time frames [If I don't pay the tax then it must be good. If I don't see homeless people then there must not be a problem with homelessness. All my problems must be solved to my satisfaction NOW.] out voiced Jesus' call to love our neighbors, care for the poor, work for justice, and share generously.
It was in this defeated state of mind that I boarded the airplane that evening. I was headed to some training in California and had a direct flight to LAX with a brief stop in Las Vegas.
Flying into Vegas on a clear, dark, desert night is quite a spectacle, even by Vegas standards. The city's lights glow against the barren darkness from more than 100 miles out. The clear, dry air lets you pick out details of buildings along Las Vegas Boulevard as you descend. The end of the runway seems to almost touch the properties at the south end of the Strip.
It's quite a sight. And as we touched down and the plane slowed I could see the emerald glow of the MGM. Nealy in front of me was the brightest light ever created by man beaming upward from Luxor. The myriad of other bright, sprawling casinos shown proudly against the black sky.
All I could think in this instant was, "How can the Truths of the Gospel, how can the ways of God win? The spectacle and allure of the world seem just too appealing."
As the plane rounded the end of the runway and u-turned to head to the gate, an audible gasp! arose from the folks on my side of the plane. There was a buzzing of voices and a pointing of fingers outside.
As I looked out the window I saw a scene usually reserved for science-fiction fantasy posters. Rising above the shadowed mountains was a giant full moon. In my experience, a giant full moon looks orange and is much dimmer than when it's at its regular size. This night, however, the moon seemed to shine at its full brightness and appeared close enough to require planes to be routed around it.
The glowing lights of the Strip seemed a pathetic amateurish attempt and failure at imitation. The strong, solid, silent presence of real light was there for all who would turn their gaze toward it.
I'm sure more people bought tickets to shows at the famous and infamous stages of the casinos than spent five minutes looking up to see the real show in the desert that evening. The performance was free, available to all, and required that one only look away from the glitz of the world to fully experience it.
The full moon has been rising over the Nevada desert from well before it was called Nevada or even was a desert. It will continue to do so long after the last of the neon has flickered out and the sands reclaim their domain.
So when I find myself in a dark valley with the harsh, glaring ways of the world seeming to be the only guide for the people around me, I need to remember to look up, gasp, point my finger toward what's really happening, and passionately encourage them to look up, too. The true Light is here, close enough to reroute traffic and bright enough to guide those who will stop and stand, even for a few minutes, in awe, allowing His glow to trump our world's pathetic amateurish attempt and failure at imitation.
Lord Jesus, be the Light in my darkness. Give me the wisdom to look to You and to experience You, timelessness amid the temporal imitations of circumstance and place. Let me point to You so that others may see your Light and join in the awe of your Way.
The state had recently approved slot machine gambling as its newest form of taxation. The city was working feverishly to establish a gambling hall only a few blocks from the church.
Under the guise of "helping," neighbors had organized and taken a NIMBY (Not In My Back Yard) approach to the issue of homelessness by having the people who lived under the bridge bussed to a shelter. Drivers at the off-ramp would no longer be bothered. (Given my familiarity with living conditions in most shelters, I would probably choose a freeway bridge over a shelter if I found myself needing to make that choice.)
The list of these types of events went on and on. The world's self-focus, exclusive dependence on the senses, and short-sighted time frames [If I don't pay the tax then it must be good. If I don't see homeless people then there must not be a problem with homelessness. All my problems must be solved to my satisfaction NOW.] out voiced Jesus' call to love our neighbors, care for the poor, work for justice, and share generously.
It was in this defeated state of mind that I boarded the airplane that evening. I was headed to some training in California and had a direct flight to LAX with a brief stop in Las Vegas.
Flying into Vegas on a clear, dark, desert night is quite a spectacle, even by Vegas standards. The city's lights glow against the barren darkness from more than 100 miles out. The clear, dry air lets you pick out details of buildings along Las Vegas Boulevard as you descend. The end of the runway seems to almost touch the properties at the south end of the Strip.
It's quite a sight. And as we touched down and the plane slowed I could see the emerald glow of the MGM. Nealy in front of me was the brightest light ever created by man beaming upward from Luxor. The myriad of other bright, sprawling casinos shown proudly against the black sky.
All I could think in this instant was, "How can the Truths of the Gospel, how can the ways of God win? The spectacle and allure of the world seem just too appealing."
As the plane rounded the end of the runway and u-turned to head to the gate, an audible gasp! arose from the folks on my side of the plane. There was a buzzing of voices and a pointing of fingers outside.
As I looked out the window I saw a scene usually reserved for science-fiction fantasy posters. Rising above the shadowed mountains was a giant full moon. In my experience, a giant full moon looks orange and is much dimmer than when it's at its regular size. This night, however, the moon seemed to shine at its full brightness and appeared close enough to require planes to be routed around it.
The glowing lights of the Strip seemed a pathetic amateurish attempt and failure at imitation. The strong, solid, silent presence of real light was there for all who would turn their gaze toward it.
I'm sure more people bought tickets to shows at the famous and infamous stages of the casinos than spent five minutes looking up to see the real show in the desert that evening. The performance was free, available to all, and required that one only look away from the glitz of the world to fully experience it.
The full moon has been rising over the Nevada desert from well before it was called Nevada or even was a desert. It will continue to do so long after the last of the neon has flickered out and the sands reclaim their domain.
So when I find myself in a dark valley with the harsh, glaring ways of the world seeming to be the only guide for the people around me, I need to remember to look up, gasp, point my finger toward what's really happening, and passionately encourage them to look up, too. The true Light is here, close enough to reroute traffic and bright enough to guide those who will stop and stand, even for a few minutes, in awe, allowing His glow to trump our world's pathetic amateurish attempt and failure at imitation.
Lord Jesus, be the Light in my darkness. Give me the wisdom to look to You and to experience You, timelessness amid the temporal imitations of circumstance and place. Let me point to You so that others may see your Light and join in the awe of your Way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)