It happened to a minister (iv)

My last "funny" incidents... Again as a young minister in my first appointment out of college I had these two incidents;

* Some of the Girls Brigade girls had won a prize in a local community event. The prize was a meal out at a local cabaret. There were six girls ranging in age from 10 to 15... in the 70's when girls were not quite as "grown up" as they are now. Their parents decided that the new young minister and his wife should chaperone them to this cabaret. One Saturday night we piled them all in the station wagon (You could in those days... no seat belts) and away we went, with these girls dressed in their very best. Everybody stared when we arrived at the cabaret with these girls in tow. When we went up to get our meals at the buffet counter the chef asked "How come such a young couple could have so many children?" We sat eating and chatting then the show began. This man came out and sung a couple of numbers. He was OK. Then, however, he started telling jokes. He told very colourful jokes, some very clever but they were essentially dirty jokes. What do you do as a young minister chaperoning six young girls with a string of dirty jokes being told? Do you take the girls out of the room? ... it is their special night. Do you laugh at the jokes? I envisaged the girls going home repeating the jokes to mum and dad and saying, "But the minister laughed!" I was quite uncomfortable. I tried not to laugh at the clever ones, but I certainly was squirming! ... Well eventually he stopped his act and I relaxed. A young lady came out in a low cut, well- above-the-knee-mini-slinky, shimmering black dress. (I remember it well - she was stunning!) She sang an enjoyable love song, and I relaxed feeling that my awkward moments were over. I clapped enthusiastically at the end of the song, I appreciated it, it was all above board. Then the lights went down low, the spotlight went on her and she oozed into another romantic song with a sexy husky voice. She moved off the stage while singing, spotlight following and I thought, "Why is she looking at me?" She slunk across the floor eye-balling me, spot light still following, arrived at my side, hand on my shoulder, leaned toward me, looked into my eyes and sang the song to me! She then turned around and sat on my knee, singing to me all the time. (Now you know why I remember the dress!) The six girls were laughing, my wife was looking daggers at me. Any young man would enjoy the experience, but being a minister with six girls from church families and a wife in tow made it a tad uncomfortable!

* In the same ministry a few years later every fourth Sunday I would lead a service at a Methodist Church while their minister led our service. This one Sunday I was at the Methodist Church and opened the service with a call to worship, a hymn and then a prayer. In those days I used reasonably full notes as I conducted worship. The Church secretary then came forward to give the announcements. She welcomed me, read the announcements then returned to her seat in about the middle of the auditorium. I stood up to the lectern to continue the service and realised my notes were not there. ... I assumed I must have left them back at my seat so ad libbed through to the next hymn. I looked at my seat, and then realised that the secretary, when gathering up her notes from the lectern had gathered mine with hers. Not wanting to create a disturbance in this congregation I did not know well I went through the whole service without a note! (Having prepared well I do that all of the time now, but then I was young!) The only hassle I had was that I could not remember the name and number of the last hymn. (I had successfully remembered the three before) I leaned forward till I could see the hymn board and announced the number. I was looking at the secretary as people reached for their hymn books. (We had such things then) It was funny, because her hymn book was sitting on top of my notes on the pew beside her. She took a second look at the papers, looked at me and gasped audibly! The penny had dropped as to what she had done. I gave her a big wink and she smiled and shook her head in disbelief. I finished the service, expressed my appreciation for them having me and walked to the back of the church. To my surprise the secretary stood up and said, "You are not going to believe this, but David has led this service without his notes, I took them after I gave the announcements early in the service!" The congregation burst into laughter and applause.

It happened to a minister(iii)

Another funeral story... Early in my first ministry in NZ a man died suddenly. I had met him, but had only met his wife briefly once before. I went around to meet her and sort out the funeral stuff. Her brother was there and other members of the wider family. We worked out the funeral arrangements and then a cup of tea was made and we slid into relaxed conversation. They pulled out a "Dominion" newspaper, one of the leading NZ papers. They showed it to me and were annoyed that there were spelling mistakes in the death notice. "Surely they could get a death notice right?" they complained. "Especially the 'Dominion' " I added, "It's not like its some cheap local paper!" I then went on with something like, "I don't know what's up with the local paper, 'The Evening Standard' it has been making glaring mistakes in the headings on the front page!" ..... there was a deathly silence in the room and I knew I had said something wrong. It was then that someone explained to me that the widows brother, sitting on my right hand side was the head proof reader for the 'Evening Standard' newspaper! ...... Me and my big mouth! .... no more insecure youthful forced conversation ... live and learn...... older and wiser sometimes.

It happened to a minister(ii)

I did my theological training in Melbourne for four years. We had student ministries and I had nearly three years as the only minister at a particular church. I had to preach at morning service and lead the whole evening service every weekend, as well as teach Sunday School, run a youth group, do pastoral visits and attend meetings. (They were very busy weekends ... with busy weeks studying) One Sunday night I was very tired and leading the evening service. The secretary had given me a note that I was to read out about the Sewing Circle. The sewing circle was a small group of elderly ladies who got together to repair or make clothing which was sent to mission stations. After the first hymn I gave the announcements. In a clear loud voice I read out; "The sewing circus will meet on Wednesday.... " (It was a tired slip of the tongue, completely innocent.) EVERYBODY, except the elderly ladies of the Sewing Circle laughed uncontrollably. (The ladies were "quaint" and the "circus" name somehow suited.) The sewing circle ladies just glared at me (if looks could kill?) and then glared at their husbands who were still laughing. I may as well not have continued with the service. Throughout the service I could see people think of the event grin and stifle a giggle.

It happened to a minister (i)

A story sent to me.

A bloke sent me this story. I cannot vouch for its truthfulness, but its a good yarn.

As a young minister, I was asked by a funeral director to hold a graveside service for a homeless man, with no family or friends. The funeral was to be held at a cemetery way back in the country, and this man would be the first to be laid to rest there.

As I was not familiar with the backwoods area, I became lost; and being a typical man did not stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late. I saw the backhoe and the crew, who was eating lunch, but the hearse was nowhere in sight.

I apologised to the workers for my tardiness, and stepped to the side of the open grave, where I saw the vault lid already in place. I assured the workers I would not hold them up for long, but this was the proper thing to do. The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch. I poured out my heart and soul.

As I preached the workers began to say "Amen", "Praise the Lord", and "glory"! I preached and preached, like I'd never preached before: from Genesis to Revelation. I closed the lengthy service with a prayer and walked to my car.

As I was opening the door and taking off my coat, I overheard one of the workers saying to another, "I ain't never seen anything like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for 20 years!"

The man who sent that to me was a plumbing inspector. I think he knew that as a plumber turned parson I would enjoy it.

A true funeral story of mine.

I led a funeral on a rainy day. We had done the Church ceremony and now gathered around the open grave. There was a mound of clay around the hole, the sides were covered with artificial grass. At the head of the grave was an uncovered slope of clay. With the coffin lowered part way into the grave, I stood on the clay to lead the final brief reading and prayer, with the funeral director standing beside me holding an umbrella covering both of us. As I launched in to the final prayer, inviting everyone to "bow in prayer" I realised to my horror that I was slipping on the wet clay down the slope toward the hole. I kept my head and kept on calmly praying, while backpedalling with small hopefully not too obvious steps, in as dignified manner as I could. It was then that I heard a snort beside me and a stifled grunt. Glancing sideways, I saw the poor funeral director with gloved hand over his mouth. He had seen my predicament and was struggling to control his mirth! It nearly set me off giggling. I said a sombre "Amen", and with relief, took a big step backward off the clay.

Colleen says "Hope is important"

We have a lovely gentle lady who comes to our drop-in centre. She does not share much about her past life, but enough for us to know that it has not at all been plain sailing. She has had a pretty tough time of it, does not now have much of the "normal stuff" in her life but is always very positive and caring in the way she relates.

She showed us this little bit of writing that she has done on the subject of "Hope". I share it with you. It sounds like some event prompted it, but I think the basic thoughts are worth sharing.

Hope

I feel in my heart that hope is undermined and not given the consideration it deserves.

There are times when I get angry when I hear people’s hopes get dashed by a person who thinks they have the right to tell these people that hope is not real or needed or is not to be believed in. Hope is a special thing that can come from the heart that can be combined with something higher. It can give somebody that little bit extra until such a time when hope is realised or gives them a better quality of life.

When you take away a person’s hope you have the capability to break a person’s spirit.

No one has the right to do that to anybody no matter how well intended their motives are. When you break a person’s spirit you cause pain as much as any physical pain caused by a break. Hope is something that can get people to face their days when otherwise they would not ever want to carry on or feel like no one believed in them to give them the edge in their lives. When you give them something to work for or live for the smile that they may give you in return will light up your life for many years to come.

Put yourselves in their shoes be it a child or even an animal, they need something to look forward to. May people reconsider what they are going to say sometimes and think how they would feel in the same position?

Your blessings will be in the reality that you have put sunshine into a dark void in someone’s life.

Kind regards – Colleen

Sunday night prattle

Running....

I had not run any real distance for a couple of weeks or more. My knee is OK while I am running but the day after it gets sore. The annoying thing is that people in my chaplaincies keep asking, "Are you still running?" (It may be because I have put on a bit of weight and it's getting noticeable?) Then they ask, "Why not?" I explain that I have a sore knee. The responses are so unsympathetic. A number said to me, "Run through the pain." and looked at me as if I was a big cry baby. But my X-ray says I have damage! It is not going to get better! "You should take Glucosamine?" .. Grr ... I am, have been for years! "Get new shoes." "You have to keep running." oozed a woman at one chaplaincy. "But I'm nearly 63! I get a sore knee! Perhaps its my time to give up? Most 63 year olds are not running!" ... "How sore does it get? Is it really that sore?" ... and on it goes, even when I threaten to come back and haunt them when they are 63. It reminded me of how important it is when talking with another on any subject to really try to understand where they are at, and what it is like for them. These, mostly younger people have no understanding of my knee, and the pain. They have no conception of the sorts of time pressures I am under, and how difficult it is to fit in during the winter. I confess that often I have listened to others in the same superficial way, not really hearing where they are at and how they are feeling, rushing in with solutions before I have listened. The truth is that though I could walk, bike, swim or gym, of them all I like running. I will only give it up if the pain is unbearable. I want to run, even if it is only short distances. Yesterday I went for a run, just under 9k. It was a horrible day for running, with a strong cold wind, but I did it. Sometimes during the run I got into a rhythm and felt good, at other times I had to push hard into the wind, and discipline myself to keep going. I passed a mature woman running the other way and said, "We must be mad!" She agreed with a grin, (or was it a grimace?) at that point we were getting sprayed with sea water off the harbour. But in the end I was pleased to run. Today my knee is sore. In a few days I will try again, but I suspect my half marathon days might be over.

Trinity Sunday...

I decided to run our service this morning on the theme of "Trinity Sunday". I read extensively on "the Trinity" ... (One writer said: "The Central dogma of the Christian Church; That the one God exists in three persons and are one substance." ... Do you understand it?) I have always had difficulty understanding and accepting the "dogma". Modalists, Sabellianism, Areanism and Macedonianism are just some of the heresies listed as wrong understandings of this dogma. I am sure I am a heretic when it comes to this. I actually don't think the Bible is as clear on this as the ancient creeds and theologians are. I think the New Testament writers tend to use the names "Father" "Son" and "Holy Spirit" interchangeably. I also do not think clarity about the "Dogma" would be a high priority for Jesus. I tried to encourage people to be open to experience God in the midst of life. That is what bugs me. I read these theological books and then go listen to real people in their work place. Often the theology feels like a science fiction mystery game or world that has nothing to do with reality! It is the feeling I get sometimes when I mix with clergy or religious type people. I really think Jesus is so relevant for life, but sometimes could scream at the religion! I think I did a good job this morning anyway.

Justice... fairness.. who cares?

I ache for a whole bunch of mainly men who wander our streets aimlessly. Some are mental health patients, others have been involved in the drug scene and others are "slower than average". Some may have had hearing, reading or other difficulties during school years and have never caught up. I look at our drop-in centre, or a group of guys who come to our Space2B or see these guys wandering the streets and I "see" wasted, rotting human lives. I know many have and do make bad decisions but somehow we as a society spit them out and leave them to rot. (Is it education, economics and health systems combined with people's prejudices?) I don't know how to change things but it seems so so sad. I suspect they are becoming a bigger group with changes in technology and employment.

I sometimes wish I had a farm with gardens, workshops and other opportunities for these guys to do useful stuff. I can see the protests now! "Slave labour!" "Unfair competition!" ... oh well dreams are free.

Special but tiring...

It is 10:31 on Friday night. I have not long arrived home from another good night at Drop-in centre. (I won more games of pool than I lost.) This week has been interesting. At all of my chaplaincies I have had people share themselves with me. They have told me of friends and relatives with terminal cancer. They have told me about frustrations of their job. They have shared concerns about their own health. They have talked about decisions they are having to make and sounded out options with me. Just now when I arrived home there was a message on the phone from a long gone ex-firefighter with a problem he wants to talk over with me.

As well as these things I have continuing feelings of anguish over people I see around me. I encounter a whole group of men who wander around town and drop in to our drop-in centre or Space2B who are really wasted, and in some cases rotting human lives. They are in a mess with nothing much in life. I heard too from several sources of a young teenager who took his own life. I have seen people living sad lives with emptiness. I have found I have two reactions to all of this.

1) I feel extremely privileged that people feel OK about sharing openly with me. I have been really touched with the way guys have just slotted into talking about their stuff as if I was a close friend. I get to feel like I am trusted, loved and seen as useful. (In spite of being "religious") I sense that I am good at my job and representing Jesus well.

2) After a while of listening again and again to people's pain I feel emotionally drained. It is a funny sort of feeling. You suddenly feel somehow flat and you wonder why? You realise that it is because the build up of pain you have taken on board. I will re-energise, with a walk up the hill, reflection and some relaxation. I recall that Jesus was once in a crowd when an unknown and desperate woman touched him for healing. The Gospel said that Jesus felt that "power had gone out of him". It is that sort of feeling. The last thing I did at drop-in tonight was to get my jumper leads and help one of our guests to start his car by linking my car's battery to his battery. Power went out of my battery to his battery. I guess that is what has been happening to me. I have been intensely hearing and taking on people's pain and feel that somehow it has drained me. In a strange way though, when you step back and reflect on the needs you encounter, these things do energise you and inspire you to want to continue on - there's a job to be done, a purpose to live for.

It is a privilege, it is immensely fulfilling but also draining. I go to bed tired, but somehow with a good satisfied feel, as if life is deeply worth living.