Here's a low down on how my day (8/14) has gone so far. This morning I met with a woman who's husband beat her black and blue. Now she's on the run trying to start a new life in Northern Colorado. Then I took a call from another lady who has been going through a lot of pain in her abdomen. She has a doctor's appointment today and she is terrified what they will find. After this, a round of hospital visits, complete with a parishioner who has been told they will likely need to enter hospice in the next day or so. Finally, a return to the church where the lady who went to the doctor earlier is waiting for me distraught because she will need a procedure.
Good God Almighty, did anyone get the license plate number of the truck that hit me today and then kept backing over me for good measure?
Thankfully, most days as a pastor are not like this. On the contrary, they are mostly filled with great things: scripture studies, visioning for the future, talking with people about their passions in life and such. But when I encounter a day like today, it's like running head first into a wall, so all I can do to recover afterwards is haul myself into the sanctuary to spend some time in silent prayer. Thankfully, First UMC, Fort Collins has a the perfect space to engage in reflection. Our sanctuary stands quiet and empty during the week. It's large size reminds me of the vastness of the Divine, while the stained glass windows bathe the room in soft rays of multi colored light, reflecting off the organ pipes in small dancing rainbows. The hue gives everything a soft purple/blue tint, kind of like the twilight of an summer evening where you sit out on your porch with a good beer and ponder the day that has been.
And ponder this day, I did.
It had been tough. Very tough, actually. One of my pastoral care mentors in seminary described it aptly as "getting in the dirt" with people. Literally, as their pastor, you get to go through whatever cruddy, dirty, nasty life situations they are experiencing, much like Job's friends from Job 2. It's all you can do sometimes to just sit there next to the person, lending your support while they wallow in the mud. However, as I am learning, it's not possible to do this without getting some dirt on you, or get dragged fully into the mud as the events of today proved possible.
It is so hard, and I couldn't help but wonder, why do we subject ourselves to it? Isn't there an easier way? I was reflecting on this, feeling tired and beat down, when I heard a small voice come up unbidden, saying
"Even this is beautiful."
God speaks to me in this way. Little emotional prods or sometime an internal voice that comes out of nowhere. Yet,I had no idea what this statement meant. How could something so hard and difficult be beautiful as the same time? Then it hit me. Being with people in the dirt is sacred because it is as Christlike an act as there can ever be, short of giving your life for someone else, I suppose. Jesus never had it easy and in days like today it becomes possible to understand Him more; to comprehend why he got frustrated when He encountered some many problems due to people's lack of faith. Jesus knew a greater reality existed. The Kingdom of God was only breath away. All people had to do was conscientiously decide to follow it and it would come roaring into reality. But since that was hard for people to do in their current state. So out of pity and mercy, the Christ decided to get into the mud to save them.
As believers, we all have inherited this mantle and I pray that those who are trying to help others who struggling remember the purpose behind their headlong dive into the dirt. We are here to help others in the hardest of times. It may be hard, but it is always a beautiful thing when we help others find the hand of Christ waiting to lift us up just out side the mudpit.
Look for it, my friends, it is there.
Bryson
