The almighty me

This week I am posting about loving our brothers and sisters in the name of Christ. If you missed the first post on this, stroll down and read it first, as this post will not make any sense. In my last post, I wrote about our family friend Phil and the loving care he received from his church family during his final days with us. His day time nurse, Mrs. Beckels and I struck up a little friendship during my visits to see Phil. One day she asked if I would mind getting her some lunch as she could not leave Phil. I went back to my apartment and made her some lunch. For the next few days I brought her lunch when I visited Phil. On Christmas Day I made up a plate for Mrs. Beckels and my daughter Sarah and I went down to see Phil. I’ll admit that if I hadn’t told Mrs. Beckels that I would bring her lunch, I probably would not have gone to see Phil on Christmas. To be pitifully honest, it was just too depressing to me. On the way to his apartment, I tried to think of anything happy to talk about that would not be awkward being that it was Christmas. I took a deep breath as I knocked on Phil’s door, expecting a depressing scene inside.
To my surprise, a man I had never seen before opened the door. As he welcomed us in, I was taken back, Phil’s apartment was packed. Members of his church, festively dressed, occupied every seat in the place, laughing, chatting and joyfully visiting. Room was made for Sarah and I to sit next to Phil. I was speechless as I was introduced around the room. “What are all these people doing here on Christmas?” I thought to myself. Sarah took center stage as everyone wanted to know if Santa had brought presents. With the naivety (or maybe stunning wisdom) of a child, she excitedly told everyone about her gifts, completely oblivious to the fact that there is a dying man in the center of the room. The room filled once again with chatter and laughter, and I was able to sit and take in this unexpected Christmas gathering. A few minutes after we arrived, there was another knock at the door, in came another group of visitors, led by Phil’s pastor (a bishop on the island). I quickly gave the bishop my seat of honor next to Phil. The love, happiness and joy that filled that room was too much for me, I made Sarah and I’s excuses and we left.
After I brought Sarah back home, I started to cry. I cried for joy for Phil that he was so greatly loved. I cried for joy for myself for getting to be part of a true Christmas gathering. One marked by the love of the very Savior we are celebrating, yet most of the time forget. But a big part of me also cried out of sadness for my own church at home. Would that picture be repeated in Denver? Probably not. You see we all have so very much to do don’t we? There are Christmas concerts, and meals and gatherings to attend. Beautiful large homes to deck and make picture perfect. There was never a dying man in a smelly apartment in the glossy pictures of Martha Stewart, was there?
So what were all those people doing there with Phil? It would be easy to say there had nowhere else to go. But that isn’t the case. Most of them had come from church services and several were discussing family dinners that they were hosting that evening. It was a choice to spend part of their day with Phil. I have spent a lot of time thinking about what brought those people there that day, and what keeps many of us (me) from doing that for our church family. I think the answer lies in a simple word – ME. The almighty ME. We are a self absorbed generation, living in a self absorbed land. So that I don’t offend anyone too much., I’ll speak personally here. I spend so much of my life with blinders on. Focused on my own little world. Trying to make that little world function to some artificial standard that I never really meet. In my world, which is ruled by ME, there never seems to be time to go visit with the elderly, there’s no time to have coffee with a friend in need, and there is even sometimes no room to love those that need so desperately to be loved. My little world is just so darn busy. But in reality there is no difference in how much time I have in my life compared to Mrs. Beckels and her church family. The only difference is who’s ruling our lives. They are brothers and sisters in Christ who are not ruled by “the almighty me”, they are ruled by the Almighty, and that makes all the difference