Barry and I would drive the church van to the Positive Development Center every Sunday night. This was a place where we would pick up adults with mental and physical impairments. We would bring them to our church. It was a good excuse for me to miss Discipleship Training. I was in my early teens. I had already run off five teachers. There was another couple of guys who picked them up on Sunday morning.
I have to tell you that these people we picked up were great folks. They also came along with their own forms of entertainment. They provided me with a great deal of comic relief during those years of my life. I’ll tell you about a couple of them.
There was this lady, we’ll call her Polly. She had this ritual that she would go through during the worship service. She would sit about in the middle of the right side of the worship center. This was a small church. Polly would stand and with both hands pat her head, pat her shoulders, sit down, and pat her knees. She would repeat this over, and over again throughout the service.
One Sunday morning, Polly sat on the inside aisle right on the end of the pew. We were singing. We stood while we were singing. As Polly went to sit down she straddled the arm of the pew. The angle at which she caught the pew tossed her feet in the air, she did a complete flip, and landed in the aisle with her legs straight up in the air. Needless to say, modesty had escaped her. There were several men that saw her falling. One of them was a man named Lester. They all attempted to reach her to break the fall by catching her. It was to no avail. In real-time, it looked like their feet were stuck in thick molasses and they were moving in slow motion.
Of course there was R.L. R.L. was in a wheel chair. If you were standing on the platform in this little ole country church, and looked to the left, R.L. would have been wheeled in through two double doors, and would have been facing you. My dad would preach with R.L. sitting just in front of the front row. Well this particular Sunday followed a recent event where someone at the Positive Development Center had dropped R.L. out of a van while attempting to move him from the van into his wheel chair. This had made R.L. very nervous about people moving him.
My dad was preaching. R.L. had not been rolled in yet. My dad said that while he was preaching he panned around looked around to his left and there sat R.L. staring cross-eyed (this was normal) at my dad through the facemask of a bright red Mississippi State football helmet. My dad took a second glance and strained not to laugh. R.L. had decided, based upon the wheelchair accident, that he needed to wear a helmet for protection.
The thing that I remember most about bringing these folks to our church was that they felt wanted and needed. I also felt wanted and needed by them. They never gave money to our church that I know of. They never required more than a ride to and from. They were faithful, sometimes even comical. We laughed with each other. I just know that they fit in. I never thought of them as a burden or a project. I enjoyed riding with them and journeying with them in the last years of their very painful lives.
I sure wish we knew better how to journey with one another. We say that we love one another until love is really needed. We say that we overlook one another’s faults until they become evident. We say that we forgive until someone needs forgiveness. We say that we are supposed to help the poor, the unfortunate, the lonely, the sick, the broken, until we realize how difficult it is to walk with them. We would rather tell them how to live than show them how to exist each day, along the way, painfully taking each step with them.
We just aren’t prepared to love the unlovable. We aren’t prepared to accept those who don’t know the jargon and the ways of “Churchianity.” We certainly aren’t patient enough to take the time to learn. We have programs to run, games to play, people to impress, conventions to answer to. We have budgets to meet. If we minister to the kind that Jesus ministered to, we won’t have the budgets that we have had in the past. Plus, we have not depended upon God in this way before.
If we reach out to those who really need Jesus, then we might start needing Him too. We might actually realize that true ministry is trusting Him, waiting on him, leaning on His and not our own understanding.
It isn’t just the incapacitated and mentally deficient who need Jesus. It is all of us. The alcoholics, the whores, the depressed, the lonely, the pervert, the homosexual, the church gossip, and the church hypocrite all need Jesus. Even the person whose pride is swelled needs Jesus.
The folks from the Positive Development Center increased my faith. They showed me that anyone could glorify God. They showed me joy that many had never known. They showed me that faith is not complex; but, that it is childlike.
They even showed me how to have fun when life is hard. I’ll never forget these people. They were a people of great faith who had great problems. I bet there is a connection there.
I love you, your servant, your friend,
Tim
I have to tell you that these people we picked up were great folks. They also came along with their own forms of entertainment. They provided me with a great deal of comic relief during those years of my life. I’ll tell you about a couple of them.
There was this lady, we’ll call her Polly. She had this ritual that she would go through during the worship service. She would sit about in the middle of the right side of the worship center. This was a small church. Polly would stand and with both hands pat her head, pat her shoulders, sit down, and pat her knees. She would repeat this over, and over again throughout the service.
One Sunday morning, Polly sat on the inside aisle right on the end of the pew. We were singing. We stood while we were singing. As Polly went to sit down she straddled the arm of the pew. The angle at which she caught the pew tossed her feet in the air, she did a complete flip, and landed in the aisle with her legs straight up in the air. Needless to say, modesty had escaped her. There were several men that saw her falling. One of them was a man named Lester. They all attempted to reach her to break the fall by catching her. It was to no avail. In real-time, it looked like their feet were stuck in thick molasses and they were moving in slow motion.
Of course there was R.L. R.L. was in a wheel chair. If you were standing on the platform in this little ole country church, and looked to the left, R.L. would have been wheeled in through two double doors, and would have been facing you. My dad would preach with R.L. sitting just in front of the front row. Well this particular Sunday followed a recent event where someone at the Positive Development Center had dropped R.L. out of a van while attempting to move him from the van into his wheel chair. This had made R.L. very nervous about people moving him.
My dad was preaching. R.L. had not been rolled in yet. My dad said that while he was preaching he panned around looked around to his left and there sat R.L. staring cross-eyed (this was normal) at my dad through the facemask of a bright red Mississippi State football helmet. My dad took a second glance and strained not to laugh. R.L. had decided, based upon the wheelchair accident, that he needed to wear a helmet for protection.
The thing that I remember most about bringing these folks to our church was that they felt wanted and needed. I also felt wanted and needed by them. They never gave money to our church that I know of. They never required more than a ride to and from. They were faithful, sometimes even comical. We laughed with each other. I just know that they fit in. I never thought of them as a burden or a project. I enjoyed riding with them and journeying with them in the last years of their very painful lives.
I sure wish we knew better how to journey with one another. We say that we love one another until love is really needed. We say that we overlook one another’s faults until they become evident. We say that we forgive until someone needs forgiveness. We say that we are supposed to help the poor, the unfortunate, the lonely, the sick, the broken, until we realize how difficult it is to walk with them. We would rather tell them how to live than show them how to exist each day, along the way, painfully taking each step with them.
We just aren’t prepared to love the unlovable. We aren’t prepared to accept those who don’t know the jargon and the ways of “Churchianity.” We certainly aren’t patient enough to take the time to learn. We have programs to run, games to play, people to impress, conventions to answer to. We have budgets to meet. If we minister to the kind that Jesus ministered to, we won’t have the budgets that we have had in the past. Plus, we have not depended upon God in this way before.
If we reach out to those who really need Jesus, then we might start needing Him too. We might actually realize that true ministry is trusting Him, waiting on him, leaning on His and not our own understanding.
It isn’t just the incapacitated and mentally deficient who need Jesus. It is all of us. The alcoholics, the whores, the depressed, the lonely, the pervert, the homosexual, the church gossip, and the church hypocrite all need Jesus. Even the person whose pride is swelled needs Jesus.
The folks from the Positive Development Center increased my faith. They showed me that anyone could glorify God. They showed me joy that many had never known. They showed me that faith is not complex; but, that it is childlike.
They even showed me how to have fun when life is hard. I’ll never forget these people. They were a people of great faith who had great problems. I bet there is a connection there.
I love you, your servant, your friend,
Tim
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