Mean Streets

Working on details for the service in the office, I felt this tug to go get some fresh air, to think through things on the front steps of the church. It's a good, cool day, rainy, windy.

I look across the street and see a sight I know well--not just Slone's Market and the mountain behind it, but a disheveled fellow. Homeless, alcoholic.

I walk over and sit next to him on the bench, we introduce each other. He jumps right in, "Would you help a brother out one time?"

"More than one time," I said.

"I'd like a little something to eat."

Slone's has great sandwiches, hot or cold, good, solid stick-to-your-ribs veggies... "Sure, would you like me to get you something in Slone's?"

"Well, I like Arby's." It's just down the street. "Let's go," I said.

"I was wanting to eat a little later."

"Ok, I am the pastor at the church across the street. Come get me when you're ready."

"I don't know when it will be, could you help me out?"

"I don't give anyone cash. I'll buy you something to eat if you need it, but no cash."

He shrugged. We got to talking about where he is from--Pikeville, but he moved here from Lexington 2 days ago. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not.

After we have just sat for a few moments, saying nothing, I said, "Do you know God loves you?" He just turned his head away.

"He wants to set you free from drinking."

"I am trying to sober up..."

"No you're not. You're drinking mouthwash, and that's going to kill you."

A long silence.

I pointed to the church. "You know where to find me."

My phone buzzed, had an email. I walked down the sidewalk a bit, turned around and he was gone, like a ghost. No one can disappear like a drunk.

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Evangelism Visits

Today I set out early, not so much to do some evangelism visits as to do some pastoral visits among some folks in the local Senior Citizens Center, a few folks who don't have much support outside of the church. As I got there, I saw one of our folks who I did not know lived there. So I walked over to the bus stop where she was and we talked a bit. I asked her if we could read some Scripture. Psalm 46 has been on my mind a lot lately. And by lately, I mean the last 6 years. So we read it. And then I asked how I could pray. She shared some concerns and then we prayed and I was not quite prepared-- instead of just standing there, she gave me a big hug while we prayed. we talked a bit afterwards, and I am not sure I have been thanked for anything quite the way I was thanked simply for stopping, reading the Word and praying. She told me of a few friends she wants to bring to church, who feel they have been forgotten. I sure hope we can do something about that. So, I went over to visit the three I had intended to visit. Two of them were out on the porch enjoying the cool morning. We sat and talked for a bit, and then I asked how was it with their souls? Problems, worries, health concerns, but peace with Christ. I asked about prayer concerns, and they are a bit afraid of some neighbors, some slim shady who is taking advantage of his grandmother, some kind of thing like that. Lots of noise, profanity, threats against people who complain. I was not quite ready for the direction Psalm 46 would take us. "God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way and mountains fall into the sea." Psalm 46:1-2 So far, I was getting it. Yes, we will not fear. "The Lord Almighty is with us, The God of Jacob is our fortress" Psalm 46:7 And still, I am right there, tracking along, Lord. But then this, and I was reminded how important it is to read the Word with the poor: "He makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth; He breaks the bow and shatters the spear, He burns the shields with fire." This is what grabbed me. It's not just that God is with us. One day, He will create such peace that we will have no need for a shield. It is not simply that we ourselves might have no swords, it is that there will be such peace ordained by God that there will be no swords anywhere. No need even for a shield. _________ After some visits at an apartment complex, I had to go back and get some more cards. I was really feeling that the evangelism visits were going well enough that I probably should not stop. I came back by the Senior Citizens Center to hit a few places I had not and came across a guy sitting outside under a gazebo. We chatted a bit. He just moved here from Lexington... we were almost neighbors; he was over off of Anniston Dr. He was not much interested in going to church (yet) but as I left he did say that if we had a bus, there are a lot of folks that might like to go to church but can't get there. I asked him if I get a bus ministry running, would he get the word out? He said he would. So even the non-believer is willing to help. I was blessed today for sure. Just before lunch I was able to visit a street and meet two folks who do not go to church. Hopefully the Lord will work on their hearts. I am going to write some notes to them now to remind them of the Lord's love for them, and their need for Him.

Stabat Mater Dolorosa

On the way over to perform Lynanne and Shawn’s wedding, I stopped off to see a family I had not seen in some time. They were a family that started coming pretty soon after I got to Winchester but came only occasionally because their youngest son, Lee, was very sick. He has a disease where his body does not produce a critical enzyme, and so occasionally all his muscles basically cramp up. Sooner or later, the heart, which is a muscle, will be affected. So I met Lee when he was about 10 or 11. He was the most cheerful kid. He used to have titanic wrestling matches with his figures and some cool rings. When he heard I had not seen “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” he let me borrow his copy. We have some great memories stored up. I left Winchester for two years then came back to Lexington, got a call from some old friends who tole me Lee was in the hospital at UK. I went in and saw his mom. Lee’s disease was in full force and he was unconscious. Doctors thought they should pull the plug; there did not seem to be any brain activity. But his mom is a bulldog for him and she contacted a specialist they saw at Johns-Hopkins who said it looked like he was dying, but really he was in a deep, deep sleep and would wake up. And he did! I had not seen him since. I heard from some friends at the wedding rehearsal that he was bed-ridden. I stopped by and it was so nice to see his parents. Lee is in a hospital bed at home, occasionally on a ventilator. The affecting thing was that in my mind, he is a young boy. But there he was, a man’s face, hair on his chest. I could only think of Mary, receiving the promise of the Christ-child, knowing him as the infant and child and boy with child-like skin and voice... and then to see his broken and battered body. We wonder at the Cross, its brutality, asking how on earth is that the means of redemption. But in that question, we miss not only the deep reasons why it is redemption (about which more later, perhaps...) but we also miss that it is God’s solidarity with us in our suffering. The world will destroy this “robe of flesh” we wear. The Cross, however, is God’s tender, “I know, I know...” to us in the agony not only of sin, but of suffering and death

Into the Desert, Into the Night

So, I get to preside over Lynanne McGever's marriage to Shawn Gallagher. Lynanne was in the youth group at my first church, Dunaway United Methodist. Her family's roots in that church are deep--mom, aunts and uncles, grandparents, cousins... going all the way back to the first settlers who came with Daniel Boone and built the first church building in 1815... I was very happy to see her and her family again and to be able to be a part of the wedding. I also had a great time just looking around. We got to the church in June 2000. I looked at the little parsonage! How interesting that we were so happy there, in such a small house. We always want bigger and more... The little church is simply one of the most beautiful you will ever see... a small white building on the hill surrounded by trees. I suppose there is always something that gets me there. When I came back for Stephen Horton's wedding. I was able to pick a flower from the clematis we planted. This time, I saw some zinnias that grew volunteer from a patch we planted in a bed that we had dumped all our compost into... they grew to almost 5 ft tall! And then, I came to the place that God apparently appointed for me to reflect on, a picnic table under a pavilion behind the church. Seems plain enough, but... I used to sit there each morning and read. I was doing what I now know to be lectio divina. I was reading no more than 5 verses from Mark's gospel, sometimes as little as 1 or 2 verses. Chewing over them again and again to almost memorize them. Then I would meditate and pray over the words. Takes a while to get through a Gospel that way, but it is worth it. Then, I also would read a selection from the ancient Church, perhaps the Desert Fathers, or Chrysostom and Tertullian. I was struck last night by how much of my spiritual formation came from this little church, and more specifically, from that little table under the pavilion. Those were such happy days! Almost carefree. Compared to what was coming when we left, they were carefree! I am impressed that those days of lectio divina, fasting, prayer, Psalm reading-- things that seemed simply prudent and good in themselves in the moment-- actually turned out to be a survival training. I was headed into the desert, into the dark night and there would be no way to survive it without the wisdom of pilgrims who had gone before. How many times did the Psalms provide a prayer when there was nothing I could say? How often did fasting destroy hopelessness? And how easy was it to find the Lord, to know His presence and His voice because I had waited on it when the tree was green? What if I had gone into the dry and weary land without knowing I could take a well with me? How clearly did the wisdom of the words appear: "physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things" (1 Timothy 4:8)?

Prayer Meeting

I missed last weeks prayer meeting because I was on the road.

Back this week and again good stuff. Tom said he knew we had a soul when he attended an autopsy as a student.

Others encouraged me; they have been here for decades and say they are still impressed by the grandeur of the hills, so I probably won't take it for granted...

The hills were shrouded in mist and as I was thinking I could not see them but knew they were there, I also thought how beautiful it will be when the leaves change colors...

A woman from an Orthodox background said she wants to join here because she feels at home. Hooray for the Creed and Eucharist!

Why do we smirk at weakness? My bud James Williams is heart sore that some smirked at a homeless woman in his church. We patronize children that way, too. Their games and lack of so-called knowledge. Nadia was not feeling well last night, and neither was Joe early in the morning... What else could be done except to comfort them when they are not sure what's wrong?


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Blessed

Got to worship at the Methodist Student Center tonight. It is really good to be able to sit w my family! To praise with them.

I was reminded how Jessie has said she knew she was called to minister to widows and orphans, she just did not know that it would mean marriage!

As there is so much great ministry to be done, I'm also reminded that Jessie and I have been in weird and tough places, and some blessed places...

We look forward to the work that is ahead: sowing and reaping-- we met in a garden, so it comes naturally!


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Kindersprache

I could never wait for the day the boys, and now Nay, started speaking. I wanted to know what they were thinking. What they found funny. What games they would play if no adult scripted it for them.

I guess it's my fascination with learning about other cultures and languages.

In the early days of speaking, you have to work to understand some things? There is in Nay Nay's language only slight stress distinctions between the word for "baby," "bubba," and "belly.". All three words are "bebe.". There's a natural poetry in babies!

Anyway, "milk" has been an interesting word for all three. John called it "mauk.". Joe called it "nu," and it took us a bit to figure out it was because we would say we would get him a "new" cup of milk. Nadia calls it "more," because we ask her if she wants more.

7 or 8 years ago Cindy Patton gave me an idea to start a journal I was going to call Teknalogy, or "children's words," a journal of children's prayers and spiritual formation written by children. Now that Nay is with me, I have that desire again...


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