Christmas and Mr. Shoe Doctor

This is by John Coleman.  He is a friend from college and law school. He left the practice of law to go to seminary and was the rector at Ascension Episcopal in Montgomery.

I wasn’t sure where the conversation was going, or if it would be a conversation at all.  I went to get my car washed.  As I was waiting, a man, whose apron identified him as Mr. Shoe Doctor asked if I would like to get my shoes shined.  I sat down at his stand and the revelation started.

He would call out a day of the week and then take a rag and slap it against my shoe.  “Monday.  WHAP!  Tuesday. WHAP!  Wednesday.  WHAP!”  I suppose this is routine, at least the part about the rag, when getting your shoes shined, but this moment seemed anything but routine.  I could tell by the cadence of his voice that he was about to tell me something.   It was barely more than a whisper, spoken to the air more than me, but it was building in intensity.  He went on, “Thursday.  WHAP!  Friday.  WHAP!  Saturday.  WHAP!  Sunday.  WHAP!”

 And then he paused and said, “Everyday.”

 “Everyday?”  I asked, thinking after all that there was surely something more.

 “Everyday!”  He said.

 I decided to push a little.  “Everyday, what?”

 “Everyday is holy.  Each day is a day to tell about the Lord.  That’s the business I’m in and business is good.”

I discovered that Mr. Shoe Doctor (I asked him his name and he just pointed to the apron) had shined shoes in many places.  He liked to talk about Chicago’s O’Hare airport, so I figured he served there the longest.  He told me about his life.  How he had lost a son and moved back to the area to take care of his mother.  He got excited when he talked about being diagnosed several years ago with cancer and how God had given him his life on this earth back through treatment and remission.  Each story was peppered with talk about Jesus, Holy Scripture and faith.  He said God had been so good to him that he had to tell it, and tell it he did.

I’ve been thinking about my feet ever since the encounter with the Shoe Doctor.  Feet probably aren’t what most contemplate during the holidays, but, the more I think about it, the more it seems fitting.  After all our feet, literally and figuratively, carry us into the season and beyond to tell about what God has done.  The familiar hymn instructs us to “go tell it on the mountain” that salvation was born on Christmas morning.  “How beautiful on the mountains” the prophet Isaiah tells us “are the feet of those who bring good news.”  (Isaiah 52:7).

I sometimes wonder if my feet really carry me to the places in this world that need to hear the good news.  Of course, I join with the world to shout it during Advent and Christmas, but when the tree is by the curb, the children are back in school and everything returns to “normal” where do my feet carry me?  Do I really look for the opportunities God gives me to “tell it?”

The angel Gabriel appeared to Mary with the announcement that she would conceive and bear a son.  After a moment of questioning and doubt her response was resolute. "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."  (Luke 1:38).

This “Yes” to God took Mary on a journey to the manger, but following the singing and the visiting royalty, the journey continued.  It was a life filled with joy and anguish.  There were some parts that I’m sure Mary would have avoided but her feet, with God’s help, carried her through.  She gave birth to salvation on Christmas, but she continued to give birth to salvation through her life in the world by nurturing a life with Christ and following the call of God.

The angel appears to all of us this Advent and echoes the words he spoke to Mary.  “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”  (Luke 1:28).  We are favored and blessed, not because of what we have done, but whose we are.  We may pause and look around, thinking the angel is surely asking someone else.  Mary did it too.  We may question our qualifications and ability, but make no mistake-each of us is being called.  We are asked to bear Christ in the world through our lives, not just around the tree or at a Christmas pageant, but everywhere, even at the car wash.

Our shoes are shined and ready to walk.  Where will our feet carry us and will we have the courage to tell it? Everyday.
 

Sighs too Deep for Words......

This is by John Coleman.  He is a friend from college and law school. He left the practice of law to go to seminary and is the rector at Ascension Episcopal in Montgomery. 

 

The telephone call took me by surprise. Calls like this one always do. Even when you expect the news-it’s still a shock. If I wanted to visit with Tom, I should go to Atlanta as soon as possible. Hospice was called in and they felt he was very near the end of his life on earth. What?! I had just seen Tom a few months earlier and it seemed like he was doing better. He had battled cancer for years, but looked like he was on solid ground in the fight. And now it was time to say goodbye?
 

I took a deep breath and let it out in one big sigh. It was all I could manage. I guess I didn’t know what to say.
 

“I’m praying for you,” I would say each time I saw him. I was praying for Tom. He knew that; wasn’t that enough? I was overcome with the call to give him more than my assurances. I cleared the deck of a crazy schedule, got in my car and headed to Atlanta.

And then I heard the voice. You know the one I’m talking about. It’s the voice that second guesses everything you do, so you end up doing just what you’ve always done, or worse, you do nothing.

“You haven’t seen him in months," the voice chided. "You don’t talk to him regularly. He knows you’re praying for him. You can just send a note.” And then the question that stops so many thundered out. "What are you going to say?!”

I’ve been with people in some of the most difficult circumstances in life. And yet there are times when I still struggle with what to say or do. I always feel like I should have the right words, say the right things and pray the right prayers, after all I'm a priest. And yet all those words in the face of some kinds of suffering can seem empty.

I know I'm not alone in this feeling. I hear these comments all the time: "I wouldn't know what to say." "I'm no good at praying out loud." "I don't know what to do." I watch as these words stop people from doing anything.

As I drove toward Atlanta I was reminded of the Apostle Paul's words in Romans. "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God." Romans 8:26-27.

The Spirit of God joins our sigh over the struggles and pain in this world. When we don't have the words or know what to do, God fills in the gaps with "sighs too deep for words." The immortal and omnipotent God sighs because He identifies with us. The life of Jesus shows us this. He was plunged into a sea of vulnerability and was subjected to rejection, hunger, weakness, pain and death. His life also shows us that God ultimately brings new life. God controls it all, even when we can't see it or when things don't go the way we would will them. And how we experience our present is completely shaped by what we believe about our future. Our sigh can be the end of it and we can give in to the anxiety, or we can remember the character and history of God.

I walked into Tom's room. His breathing was shallow and labored. He looked at me and struggled to say hi. He couldn't speak more than a word or two, so I talked a little.

I reminded him about the time we first met at a company convention. I thanked him for introducing me to jazz music. Then I prayed for awhile. And then...silence. I sighed. I was out of words and somehow that was just fine. The words were just getting in the way.

I spied a CD player in the corner of the room, so I picked out a Chris Botti jazz selection and hit play. The music filled the room as I sat next to his bed. I held his hand in silence and listened.

And then I heard the voice. It was more of a sigh or groan. I'm sure it was the breath of the Holy Spirit and it rippled over the music and our breathing to the ears of God. I heard it and I'm pretty sure Tom did too. It was the best prayer of all. Without words it reminded us of whose we are and who holds every moment of yesterday, today and tomorrow in the palm of his hand. And through the sadness and suffering the room filled with hope.

There are times when we don't need to have the right words. We aren't required to have it all figured out and arrive with just the right action to save the day. We don't even have to say or do anything. We just have to show up and be fully present. We are after all called to be faithful, not perfect. And when we're open to the movement and will of God, God uses us, even when we try our best to get in the way.

Even when all we do is sit silently with a friend.

Who Needs A God Like This?

This is by John Coleman.  He is  a friend from college and law school. He left the practice of law to go to seminary and is the rector at Ascension Episcopal in Montgomery. (This is published here without permission - too bad John left the practice of law or I would be in serious copyright trouble.....)

What does it mean to say that we are blessed? “God has really blessed me,” I hear people say when they get good news of have good fortune. “Have a blessed day,” someone adds as they say goodbye. But what do we say when our day or life doesn’t turn out the way we expect? When a child gets sick, really sick, and you pray every day, maybe all day that things will get better, but nothing changes? When a job is lost, a country is thrown into turmoil or a person we love goes away. Are we still blessed?

The world conditions us to think that blessings only come when life is good. If we have wealth, good health, and everything’s just right, we’re blessed. And when we don’t, we aren’t. But when life gets too heavy—your family falls apart; or your mother dies; or you can’t pay your bills—we can be left feeling that God is absent or doesn’t care. We go through the motions. We pray, but we can’t help but wonder, why? Who, we ask, needs a God like this?

“For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (1 Cor 1:18). I believe these are some of the most powerful and important words in the New Testament. The Apostle Paul speaks them to a bustling, industrious and wealthy community. Money, power and human wisdom meant everything. They were signs of success, strength and blessing. Paul comes and points to the cross. He shows them that God is most present where he seems least present.

I can hear the collective cry of the people, “Who needs a God like this?” I don’t want weakness. I want bright, shiny success. I want God’s favor and blessing, and that means wherever God is, waves can’t exist.

Think about the second day after the crucifixion. Jesus died a miserable death. The tomb holds his body and it’s sealed shut. This is how things look from the very bottom. Everyone glances around and thinks it’s over. Lots of tears and a ton of doubt. Who will lead? Where do they go? They come up short. No answers. Utter despair. Really? Who needs a God like this?!

But God was there-the whole time. The disciples had to wait to discover that, but God never left them. God was at work, preparing all for new life.

In the worst moments, God may seem absent, but God moves through the reversals of fortune. Think about it. If you look at your own past and see a deep crevice of pain, it is there that you can often see your faith deepened. You see a trust in God and a realization that you can’t save yourself. You probably didn’t know it then, but you do now.

And yet, we are so quick to exchange this wisdom for the idea that God only loves us when we are worthy or successful by the standards of the world. We are only blessed or useful, we think, when we achieve something or have something to offer. When we don’t, we feel we aren’t blessed. When we do this we ignore God’s saving work in the cross. We forget that the way of God is often using the shame of the world for God’s glory. We never deserve it and we can’t earn it, but God is present, loving us anyway.

God often sneaks in through the back door of life. The crucifixion allows us to derive meaning from reversals. Many times it is through weakness that we are made strong. It is through the cross and resurrection that we see what it means to be blessed, even in the midst of challenges.

Remember how the story ends. The crucifixion starts in despair and ends in new life. The future couldn’t get any bleaker for Jesus and his disciples. But, God had a plan. And no matter what the circumstance, we can look to God’s work throughout time, especially the saving work of the cross, and see what it means to be saved from whatever it is that causes our despair.

For most, this too shall pass. And, for some, it may not. But when Jesus rises from the dead, he tells us there is light at the end of the tunnel, and if we hold on through our most doubtful times, our Lord will carry and cover us.

Who needs a God like this? I do. How about you?

I Don't Know How She Died

This is by John Coleman.  He is  a friend from college and law school. He left the practice of law to go to seminary and is the rector at Ascension Episcopal in Montgomery.


Montgomery Advertiser- August 2010
I don't know how she died, or why her family wasn't there. I will never know what made her smile, laugh, and cry. The world will never hear stories of summertime as a child, the security of daddy's arms with a skinned knee or Christmas at grandma's house. I don't know what in her life made her proud or what frightened her most. Last week she lived. Today she rests in peace, buried beneath Alabama's red clay.

Every now and then, area cemeteries ask me to conduct funerals for those who have no family or friends to claim the body and make arrangements. There is usually very little information about the person's life, beyond the basics of name or religious affiliation. And even though the person is unknown to me and most, the time I spend with this individual is always sacred. Other than the men who fill the grave with dirt, there is usually no one there to say goodbye. As I stand in a section of a cemetery forgotten by much of the world, I am reminded that this is one of the highest honors I have as a child of God. I join with the communion of saints, living and dead, and give witness to a life. It's a witness that acknowledges another person made in the image of the Almighty and says that every life matters.

We all want a witness to our lives. From the time we can barely walk, we scream, cry and shout to get the attention of those we love. It continues into adolescence and adulthood. We don't want to be chosen last for basketball or asked to the dance in the final hours. We want to be included in the right clubs and receive the best accolades at work. If people notice us, we think it means we matter. And yet so many of us, even when it appears to everyone around that we have everything the world says matters, go through life feeling forgotten. We have this sinking feeling that what we do and who we are doesn't matter. Even in the midst of such feelings, we look at the world and ignore others and through our action and inaction make them feel less than worthy. Whether we are the ones being ignored or the ones ignoring, Jesus makes it clear that every life matters and every soul should be made to feel important, because it is.

The ministry of Jesus is filled with stories of his witness to those the world has forgotten. He reaches out and brings the lost into community. Everyone on the shores of the Sea of Galilee in the region of the Gerasenes sought to avoid a man they thought was possessed by a demon. He was so violent they actually tried to chain him. They forced him to live in caves outside of town--out of sight and out of mind--forgotten. It would have been easy for Jesus to pass by this man when he approached. The people around him were probably telling him about the man's history, how he was a "crazy" and a "nobody." They could have told him that stopping might put Jesus in harm's way. But Jesus didn't ignore the man. He stopped, acknowledged him and this action began a process of healing. (Mark 5:1-20).

I believe the good news in this story is that we matter to Jesus. He meets us, as he met the tormented man, in the midst of whatever we see as our bondage and pain. He frees us from our own chains that bind us and from those others place in our lives. He looks at us and tells us that he loves us. His action of giving his life for us says that the world may have ignored us or forgotten, but he never will.

But there is more than that. At the end of the story, Jesus says to the man, "Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you." (Mark 5:19). We are called to seek out those forgotten by the world and share the mercy and grace we have been given. Once we experience it, we cannot begrudge anyone anything. They maybe around the world, in the next town, next door or down the hall.

So let's take notice of God's children. Look into their eyes. Remember their faces. Talk. Listen. And remember the woman at the grave who others forgot.

I don't know how she died. I don't know how she lived. I wish I did. This day, God will give me another chance to do just that with someone the world has forgotten...a chance to remind them that he never will.