It was just a one time deal. My friend was going out of town and asked me to fill in. Class and a sermon at a small church in West Texas over an hour away from Abilene (which is about three hours outside of Dallas, for any readers unfamiliar with the sprawling West Texas oasis known as Abilene, TX.) It sounded like a pretty standard set-up: class at 10, a short break, then "worship" at 11, "then they'll probably take you out to eat afterwards" - according to my friend. Of course I was happy to help and am grateful for any experience to supplement my theological education. Because, you know, real learning often takes place outside of the classroom. I only thought I knew what that meant.
9:55 - the time in which my girlfriend and I pulled into the parking lot. No cars. 10:05 - We backed out and doubled checked the sign. It was the right place. 10:07 - I hopped out and checked the front door. Locked. 10:11 - I checked the side door. Locked. "I hope they didn't cancel church and not tell us," Laura gave voice to what we both were thinking. "Even if no one shows up, I'm standing under that tree over there and preaching this sermon at eleven!" I quipped, "I don't back out of an obligation like that." 10:15 - One car pulls up with three people, an older couple and their friend. This was class. My friend had tipped me off that they liked to discuss so my class was primarily discussion based that day. I hoped they were more talkative in class than when the 5 of us awkwardly stepped into the building.
I made the move to go ahead and get things set up for class when the wife of the couple said we had to prepare the "emblems" first. She was looking at a flower arrangement sitting in the middle of the Lord's Table (yes, it said in typical Yoda fashion, "This Do In Remembrance of Me"). I'm so thankful for Laura, who in the first of what would be several instances saved me from embarrassment, mouthed to me, "she means the Lord's Supper" and then asked where the kitchen was located. After the "emblems" were in their proper place. We started class. After my first question, the couple's friend informed me that she speaks Spanish primarily and that her Bible is also in Spanish because of her difficulty understanding the English. Great. Laura and I ended up having a great conversation about Mark 10, with a few comments from the ladies present. The gentleman was apparently at a loss as to what to say. Perhaps he was baffled by my profound wisdom. More likely he was confused by my nervous ramblings. No matter, class let out a few minutes early.
As we were sitting and talking with those present for class another woman came in, followed shortly by two men. The first and older of the two introduced himself as Gerald. I recognized his name as being the song leader for that Sunday. The other younger man was introduced as his son. Before service, Gerald said his son had an announcement to make. Oh no, I thought, but nothing could fully prepare me for what was said. He stood up and calmly, coolly announced that his mother (Gerald's wife) had passed away the night before. Gasps, shocks came from the 6 of us to whom this was news. Gerald then looking like he was on the verge of tears mumbled something about her being in a better place, took a step back and a deep breath, and then proceeded to ask me to lead the opening prayer.
What do you say? Every sensibility in me wanted to scream, "STOP! We don't have to just do church today as usual. We can BE church today. Why are we just going through the motions?" But this was not MY church, I was a guest among them today. I was there as one with little or no authority. And so as Gerald asked us to turn to the first song, the quiet voices of those gathered rose, some a mixture between singing and sobbing. The song was "I'll Fly Away". And it was only the beginning of a song service that focused almost exclusively on the "sweet hereafter". And as Laura's soothing soprano and my scratchy pseudo-bass mingled with the voices of the saints, we were both separate and a part of what was going on.
I scratched half of my sermon. I hope it was an appropriate word given the context, but if God's Word was heard in any part of it, it is to his glory and not mine. There was no lunch. We gave our condolences, said our "nice to meet yous" and got in the car and left. A little shook up, a little in awe, and fully reminded that there is much more to ministry than learning theology and texts. There are real people, with real lives and real deaths. But these are the saints. These are God's people. And I am humbled to be a part.
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2 comments:
I remember when Blake's aunt died in her sleep while working a teen retreat at Ne-O-Tez. We all got the news at Mid-County in between class and the service. I was standing with several of the leaders who had a quick, "what-should-we-do-now?" kind of meeting. I suggested we scrap the program and hold some kind of impromptu prayer and share meeting. Another commented, "the sheep must be fed." As you said, it was not my church; I had only been a part of it for a few weeks. As it turned out, following through with the service as planned was in the best interest of the church as a whole. Glad that you could handle your situation with grace. God can do amazing things with our efforts, even when we are not sure what exactly we should be doing.
This is a great story, probably one you will be telling 25 years from now. Thanks for sharing it.
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