The office bore the scars of a neglectful three years. Dimly lit, monochromatically drab with tired furniture that squeaked from old age and piles of forgotten papers, the "pastor's office" housed more artifacts than conversations. It slow-cooked every occasional visitor to help reduce the electric bill, and only a handful of the church's attenders could even tell you where it was. Every Tuesday afternoon for a semester, I traded beads of sweat in that room for the advantage of sitting with the interim pastor, a man worn peaceful over forty years serving others as a pastor and mentor throughout Southern California. He was Wally Norling, and those future pastors he mentored were called "Wally's Boys" (Larry Osborne, for example). Wally passed away in 2010.
I wasn't afforded enough time with Wally to ever warrant the label. But his soft-spoken, confident advice still props up much of what I do and how I do it. The contrast of his seasoned, cool wisdom and that sauna of a tattered room only amplified his gentle words - the church building is merely a prop on a larger stage. More importantly, ministry looks a lot like a mentor and his apprentice sitting together and not at all like a church calendar spilling over with harried activities.
Our paths to these meetings bore no resemblance to one another. He determined to be pastor at age 5, and was a shepherd to his very core all his days. I left behind 15 years of software at age 35 to attend seminary, and was well-versed in all the people skills you'd expect in a computer programmer. I was 40 years his junior, knowing nothing of that which came so effortlessly to him. By the way he answered me, I could usually tell when I accidentally asked a meaningful question. One of my best questions was hatched after my first "pastoral" hospital visit.
A dear, elderly lady had fallen dangerously ill and was only partially responsive, bedridden as she recovered in a rehab facility. Armed with every bit of the bedside manner one gains from coding C++, I fumbled, stuttered, and awkwardly silenced my way through 30 minutes that I later prayed her illness would prevent her from remembering. Happily, she recovered over time ... and never once mentioned that I had visited her. Whether that was illness or grace matters little to me.
In my next meeting with Wally, I managed slightly better verbal skills to mutter a mess of questions asking how to handle such situations - what to say, how to make people feel better, how to help them put illness in great, theological perspective, and so on. In effect, I was asking how to "fix" the situation like I was accustomed to fixing bugs in software.
Wally simply said, "90% of ministry is just being there." A lot like the time he had been spending with me, patiently waiting for one of my questions to be substantive.
Get out a concordance of the Bible. Search for "thou shalt fix." Nothing. No variation, no similar phrase. Search of "one another," and you'll quickly have a long list. Look for how many times the Lord reassures us by simply saying, "I am with you" or "I will be with you" or "I will never leave you." Even the Lord says, "A great deal of My ministry to you is just being with you."
Be there. Put "fixing stuff" way down on the list. Be there when people are sick and non-responsive. Be there when they have gotten fired. Be there when their dog dies. Be there when they are mad at God. Be there when they are drunk, in jail, stranded in the mud of their own creation, or cursing the whole world, including you. Be there when you don't know what to say or what to do. If you can convey that "I'm here to demonstrate that the Lord will never forsake you," you have done 90% of ministry.
Showing posts with label visit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label visit. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Monday, July 15, 2013
The story of Mary
There are too many stories to tell from our trip to Kenya, but there's one I must tell. It is the story of "Mary" (not her real name).
We were invited to visit the home of Mary by her family. Mary was just recovering from malaria, and we were asked to pray for her complete recovery. That sounded simple enough. It was not simple.
The home was modest - not as sparse as many homes we saw, but still humble. The living room was tightly cramped with 10 or so people conversing over lunch, but they did well enough financially to afford a television. Women flitted in and out of the room to bring the handwashing basin, and then the waves of food - rice, ugali, goat stew, chicken, and fish. It was hard to keep track of who was a wife, who was a sister, and who was an in-law. But plenty of smiles and hospitality.
Mary looked to be in her teens, but she's actually in her 20s. She was soft spoken, sometimes too soft to understand. She exuded a sweet spirit (although we later learned that she could have fits of anger). Mary also had some form of speech impediment, which appeared to be related to a slight deformity with her mouth. (I found out in my class later that week that it is common for people in that area to hide those children with deformities. Indeed, people who attended that church for years didn't even know Mary exists.) We were told that she was challenged emotionally and mentally, but it wasn't clear that perhaps her medicines fogged her acuity. The end effect for us was an immediate empathy for a sweet, troubled girl. I was keenly grateful that Janette was sitting nearest to Mary, who directed almost all of her answers toward Janette no matter who asked them.
Pastor Benard, who knew some backstory that we learned only later, proceeded to ask Mary a surprising sequence of questions. Very quickly, he changed from normal questions about her health and recovery to questions about dreams, fears, and how she was treated. Mary was plagued by all three - horrible dreams, persistent fears, and domestic abuse. Those she said were hitting her were present in the room, but it seemed the awkwardness of this was felt only by our team.
In this part of Kenya, there's no place for Mary to go. There are no safe shelters to provide refuge. It would be nearly impossible for her to find reputable work to support herself. It's hard to find a husband in her circumstance, let alone with the dowry and negotiation system for most marriages there. This seemingly sweet girl with extra challenges in life is locked in an abusive situation with no option but to stay.
The Lord gave several of us pertinent passages of Scripture and deep-felt prayer to share with her, and to no little effect. But we were helpless to extract her. We pray for Pastor Benard as he follows up to have wisdom and creative ideas. We pray for her abusers to repent. We pray for her healing. But with only our own devices, we are helpless to "fix" her situation.
Mary is forgotten by the world, except but a handful of people. And now us. And now you.
The Bible consistently teaches (especially in Exodus, Leviticus, Isaiah, and Luke) that God's people advocate for the vulnerable. We too often politicize questions about who should and should not receive help, but the Bible seems to focus on the vulnerable. When the Bible was written, the vulnerable were the likes of the widow, the orphan, the sick, the foreigner, and the desperately poor - those susceptible to oppression and exploitation. It is the task of God's people to lend strength and aid to the vulnerable.
Without much physical ability to help the vulnerable Mary, we turn our efforts to helping Pastor Benard to help Mary. If there is anything he tells us we can do, we will share that with you. For now, we render aid by praying for God to provide that aid and to halt the actions of those who oppress her.
We were invited to visit the home of Mary by her family. Mary was just recovering from malaria, and we were asked to pray for her complete recovery. That sounded simple enough. It was not simple.
The home was modest - not as sparse as many homes we saw, but still humble. The living room was tightly cramped with 10 or so people conversing over lunch, but they did well enough financially to afford a television. Women flitted in and out of the room to bring the handwashing basin, and then the waves of food - rice, ugali, goat stew, chicken, and fish. It was hard to keep track of who was a wife, who was a sister, and who was an in-law. But plenty of smiles and hospitality.
Mary looked to be in her teens, but she's actually in her 20s. She was soft spoken, sometimes too soft to understand. She exuded a sweet spirit (although we later learned that she could have fits of anger). Mary also had some form of speech impediment, which appeared to be related to a slight deformity with her mouth. (I found out in my class later that week that it is common for people in that area to hide those children with deformities. Indeed, people who attended that church for years didn't even know Mary exists.) We were told that she was challenged emotionally and mentally, but it wasn't clear that perhaps her medicines fogged her acuity. The end effect for us was an immediate empathy for a sweet, troubled girl. I was keenly grateful that Janette was sitting nearest to Mary, who directed almost all of her answers toward Janette no matter who asked them.
Pastor Benard, who knew some backstory that we learned only later, proceeded to ask Mary a surprising sequence of questions. Very quickly, he changed from normal questions about her health and recovery to questions about dreams, fears, and how she was treated. Mary was plagued by all three - horrible dreams, persistent fears, and domestic abuse. Those she said were hitting her were present in the room, but it seemed the awkwardness of this was felt only by our team.
In this part of Kenya, there's no place for Mary to go. There are no safe shelters to provide refuge. It would be nearly impossible for her to find reputable work to support herself. It's hard to find a husband in her circumstance, let alone with the dowry and negotiation system for most marriages there. This seemingly sweet girl with extra challenges in life is locked in an abusive situation with no option but to stay.
The Lord gave several of us pertinent passages of Scripture and deep-felt prayer to share with her, and to no little effect. But we were helpless to extract her. We pray for Pastor Benard as he follows up to have wisdom and creative ideas. We pray for her abusers to repent. We pray for her healing. But with only our own devices, we are helpless to "fix" her situation.
Mary is forgotten by the world, except but a handful of people. And now us. And now you.
The Bible consistently teaches (especially in Exodus, Leviticus, Isaiah, and Luke) that God's people advocate for the vulnerable. We too often politicize questions about who should and should not receive help, but the Bible seems to focus on the vulnerable. When the Bible was written, the vulnerable were the likes of the widow, the orphan, the sick, the foreigner, and the desperately poor - those susceptible to oppression and exploitation. It is the task of God's people to lend strength and aid to the vulnerable.
Without much physical ability to help the vulnerable Mary, we turn our efforts to helping Pastor Benard to help Mary. If there is anything he tells us we can do, we will share that with you. For now, we render aid by praying for God to provide that aid and to halt the actions of those who oppress her.
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