February 19, 2009

On the Journey

              Lessons I Needed to Learn . . .

              I accept the fact that I look at the world a little differently than most folks. When I experience events, I often look for some meaning hidden in them. On the one hand, I do believe that some things happen for a reason. On the other hand, I do believe some things just happen. Whether accidental or providential, I find myself looking for lessons to be gleaned from the encounter or the event. Last week, I experienced two events that have kept me searching for possible lessons I needed to learn.

              The first experience happened this way. As I was leaving a patient’s room at the hospital, I encountered a sight I had never seen before. Two prison guards, one in front and one behind, were on full alert as two physical therapy assistants were walking a prisoner down the hallway. The assistants were helping the man who was leaning heavily on the IV pole. With each shuffle of his feet, he grimaced with pain.

              As I watched him take about 10 steps toward his room, I could hear a rattling sound. As I gazed down his tall frame, I first noticed his designer hospital gown and then those sock-like house shoes. As I scanned down to the floor, I discovered the source of the tingling sound—his ankles were shackled. 

              I was shocked. The man was obviously weak and experiencing intense pain. He was tethered to the IV pole with plastic tubing. It was apparent even to the untrained eye that he had recently had major surgery. Yet, the guards were watching him as if he might make a run for it at any moment.

              For those of us watching this spectacle, we realized that someone dangerous was in the building. Even in the hospital, weak and in pain, the man could not escape his past or his present. He was not just another patient. He was a prisoner of the State of Kentucky. Those of us who saw him could allow our imaginations to run wild as to what the man’s crimes might have been.

              As the prisoner entered his room and I continued my hospital rounds, I could not escape the image etched on my brain of those thin ankles stuck through those steel anklets attached to a chain. I realized that at some point in the encounter I saw a prisoner and not a patient, a prisoner and not a man. As I walked away, I probed my heart to discern what I had felt for this man. Had I felt compassion or mercy for this prisoner? If not, why not? What were the obstacles within me that kept me from sharing his pain—the pain of a prisoner, the pain of a man.

              In my prayers, I confessed my sins before God, for I realized how tempting it is to judge rather than to show mercy. You and I meet people who are suffering from the pain of their sinfulness every day. Many of these folks are strangers, but some of them we know well. Do we show them mercy? Do we offer them compassion? Do we walk by on the other side of the hall? Last week, I could have asked the man how he was doing ignoring his guards and shackles. I could imagine his condition, but my sin was hidden in my heart, concealed from him.

              The second experience came on Wednesday at Shepherd’s Table. Chris introduced me to a man who had called the church and requested a ride to the prayer meeting. The man had told Chris he was employed by one of the tree companies and was staying at a local hotel. As soon as I shook the man’s hand, I recognized him. He has come to the church on numerous occasions to request assistance. Most often, he stands smugly by while a young woman makes the request for him. In fact, on most occasions, he demands assistance.

              I told the man I recognized him. He assured me he had never been to Immanuel before. I called him by name. He showed no expression of surprise. In the conversation that followed, he told me he wanted to talk to one of the deacons about spiritual matters. When I told him he would have to discuss those matters with me, he said he needed food. I reminded him that I offered him dinner when he arrived. He accused me of being insensitive to the needs of a man who was trying to make an honest living. Finally, he confessed that I did know him, and he had been assisted by Immanuel many times. After hearing his confession, I sent him away with a small voucher for groceries, and Chris drove him back to the motel.

              As I reflected on this experience, I recognized that it is a great temptation to enter the church and act as if God doesn’t know who we are. Yet, we are known by God. There is nothing we can hide from God, no matter how successful we may be in deceiving ourselves. God recognizes us. God knows our thoughts. God knows our deeds. God knows our motivations. We may protest, but God knows.

              In my prayers, I realized how difficult we find it to be honest before God. We are tempted to cover up our sins, to deny our deeds, and attempt to come before God with the innocence of a child. Yet, we cannot, for God is our God. God will be merciful, but God will not be fooled.

              So, I continue to search for lessons to be learned in the experiences of an ordinary day. The lessons I learn are usually for me. I share them with you, yet I assure you they convict me of my sins first. Along the way on this journey of faith, let’s be free in sharing what we learn as we follow Jesus wherever he leads. Even if it makes us feel uncomfortable. It is good to confess our sins one to another.jamie