The other day I had to pick something up at another church.  I walked in and couldn’t help but notice how orderly everything was.  And how quiet the building was.  And how clean.  I gathered the items I needed and drove back to the church building where I serve the people of this area.  I walked in and saw the Big Wheels parked in Fellowship Hall, and the plastic toy hammerhead shark on the tables where we gather to share meals and meetings.  I saw the tear in the linoleum floor covered by a rug, and the dated gold velvet curtains across the stage.  Walking into the sanctuary, I noted the cushions that need to be replaced, and the carpet that is getting a bit long in the tooth.  I walked around … and a new problem – a piece broken off of the railing.  And those steps up to the chancel… oh how much we need a ramp.

I moved down to the 2^nd row of pews, sat and fixed my eyes on the cross.  I let the quiet and the peace come to me as I sat in the sanctuary and I breathed in deeply.

I looked at the extra row of chairs now needed for our growing choir.  I looked at the Christmas decorations all around and acknowledged the many hands that have hung them for numerous years, and the helpful hands that hung them this year.   The trees on the chancel, adorned with the Chrismons beautifully made years ago by the young, guided by the stories and teaching of the elders.  I thought of the weddings, the baptisms and the funerals that this building has embraced along with hundreds of gatherings, meals, Sunday services, weekly bible studi
es and welcoming mission activities.

Sitting in that stillness, I could hear the laughter and blessed noisiness of the children in the pre-school classes down the hall, the familiar back and forth of the quilting group breaking to have coffee.  At that moment, I felt the spirits of all of the lives that have been lived and maybe changed in this church building.  Yes, it isn’t orderly or quiet. It is, though, a messy place well and wonderfully used.  It is truly
sacred space.

“When you get to the end of all the light you know and it’s time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly.” ― Edward Teller

What happens when we have had a dream for many, many years, and we are on the edge of it becoming our reality?  In 2008, God had had enough of my egotistical check-writing-conscious-soothing ways and the presence of a call to ministry became so incessant and apparent, that I managed to say the words out loud to myself, and then to my pastor.

Two weeks ago, I graduated from three years of study at the Iliff School of Theology.

This past weekend, my appointment to serve a church was announced.

This week, I am putting all of my stuff into cardboard boxes and plastic bins, getting ready to move to a new town and to begin servant ministry.

It seems I am actually in danger of achieving a dream that dates back to 1991, when I spent a few months working in the Middle East.  A time and place where I saw things that remain fresh and real in my memory, things that I can’t un-see to this day.  It was my first experience in a country with an “emerging economy.”  At that time, there were one million people living in the cemetery because there was no housing for them, no jobs, no respect.  Many others lived in cobbled together shacks, no running water, no sanitation facilities.  Children played barefoot in the spaces between, and I will leave it to the imagination what else was done in those spaces.   On the streets of Cairo, women begged for a pittance from the thousands of tourists passing by.  Often, their babies lay nearby, sometimes naked, but rarely crying, already adapted to lives that lie ahead.

I came home from that adventure with two things – stomach “crud” that lasted several months, and a sense of call to serve.  For the next 17 years, I would drive by Iliff and say to myself, “that’s where I want to be” while I managed to push down that call by volunteering and making donations.

There are many quotations and sayings about working toward the dreams we dream; about pursuing that about which we feel passionate.  Who knew how incredibly freaky and scary it is to achieve one’s dreams, to take that step into what’s next and live that dream?

 “I believe there’s a calling for all of us. I know that every human being has value and purpose. The real work of our lives is to become aware.  And awakened.  To answer the call.” ― Oprah Winfrey

It’s time to be awakened and to answer the call.   I better get these boxes packed.