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

To love a brother …

My family spends roughly a month each winter in the Bahamas. My grandmother has spent her winter's there for nearly 30 years and our family has created a community of wonderful friends. This year our stay was been bitter sweet as a dear family friend was in his final days after a long fight with cancer. Phil has no biological family on the island. He needed 24 hour care on an island with limited health care options. Sounds like a recipe for disaster huh? We can all take a guess at what his last days looked like, right? Poor Phil, alone in a second or third rate hospital, just waiting to die. If you have any experience with hospitals in second world countries, you know it's not a pretty picture. And this would indeed have been Phil's destiny if it were not for Christian brotherly love.

You see on our beautiful little island, the concept of the church family is deeply rooted in the culture. Your church is not somewhere you go for an hour on Sunday morning. Your church is who you are. It is your community, your friends, your home and your family. So thanks to the love of his church family, Phil did not die alone in a hospital. He was at home, cared for 24 hours a day by registered nurses whom his Pastor found to care for him. Phil's day time nurse was a lovely woman by the name of Mrs. Beckels. Mrs Beckels works the night shift at the hospital, and for the last month of Phil's life she took care of him from 8 -4, seven days a week. She bathed and feed Phil, and kept him company when he was coherent. She also put up with a lot. Phil was not a sweet little old man, appreciative for her help. He was a tough Englishman with the manners and mouth from his former days as a sailor. He just as frequently cursed Mrs. Beckels as he thanks her.

So far, you're probably thinking, what's so amazing about a nurse taking on a little side job and putting up with a grumpy old man? Well the thing is, this was not a job for Mrs. Beckels. She didn't take a dime from Phil. She said it was her honor to love a brother in his final hours. The even more amazing thing was that she didn't really know Phil while he was well. They went to the same church, but they were not friends. Mrs. Beckels' faith called her to love this grumpy dying man just as Christ loved us. It was beautiful to see. What was even more beautiful, was that Mrs. Beckels was not alone, there were other volunteers who took on eight hour blocks every day of the week or who just came to sit and visit with Phil.

Several of my Jewish and un-churched friends, who were on the island for the holidays, asked me if this was "normal". Was this what churches do? I desperately wanted to answer "yes!" For the Scriptures teaches, that you will know us by our love. But of course I had to answer a sad, "not really." I have the privilege to worship and work at a large suburban church. We have funding and members coming out of our ears. We build schools and clinics in Africa, we plant churches around Denver, we have programs and classes offered every day of the week. We do many great things as a church, but as a people, we don't love each other the way Phil's church does. We don't even come close. Why in a community that has so much, do we as a people give each other so little? I have been thinking a lot about this over the past few weeks. In a time in our country, when people are so desperately hurting; losing their jobs, their marriages and their health, I think it's really important to think about how we love people in Christ's name. So for the next week, I am going to share some thoughts about this. I hope that you too, will post a comment and share your ideas with everyone about how your family, or church, is caring for those around you.