Sunday, June 13, 2010

I am Not a Rock: New Bern 2

Apologies for length, but it's story time.

Church planting is like tomato picking season. There just is no off time. Most days we are driving around, exploring and praying, and meeting locals. At least, trying to. But Thursdays I have off. I don’t really know anyone, so I drive downtown, to explore, pray and meet people, and boom- I’m working again. What can you do?


Choo choo*


Confession of the day: I wrestle with doubt. I work for the church, doggone it, doubt should be impossible for someone with my job. But every few months, the father’s prayer for his demon-possessed son, begging for healing, rings anew in me. I believe, help me overcome my unbelief. Amazing that I can beg for God to speak to me, seek His will for my life, pray fervently for miracles, and even see them, and still doubt. But oh my heart is as hard and stubborn as the metal seat that refuses to remain straight on the old epicyclic [automatic win] Raleigh. I need Christ, in whom I wrestle to believe, to replace my seat, er, heart, altogether.


Of course, Jesus does deliver the boy, in the end.


A few days ago ferocious Buster became quite frightened by something under my bed. I looked, didn’t see anything. A ferocious dog afraid of monsters under the bed… hm.


And then K, the two-year-old belonging to my host family, is scared of the giant, portable oscillating fan in my room. She talks all the time, isn’t particularly shy. Yet she fears the fan. “Das a big fan” she says every morning, peeking through the door, open just a crack. “It is a big fan,” I reply, every morning. At night it’s on as I sleep, rolling its lazy breath up and down my futon. It rustles the curtains, a calendar on the wall, and some ribbon tied around wheat bunches by the window. Every once in a while the sound startles me, unnervingly similar to someone in the room. So, I guess I’m a little scared of the big fan too.


And, to be fair to the dog, I was not excited about looking under the bed after his obvious fright.


I encountered some-thing downtown, on my ‘day off’. A woman was walking towards me, muttering, and something just wasn’t right. I said “Hello” in passing, attempting to fit as much love as I could in a greeting. In response, she spit at me. Just, whatever saliva was in her mouth, like I would if I came across the wicked witch of the west without a bucket of water. And she kept walking, still muttering a stream of un-understandables. I’m not sure if any saliva made contact, but I was less concerned with my cleanliness than I was with trying to figure out what the heck just happened. I've worked with mentally ill persons before, and it didn't feel like that. This woman possessed anger, loathing, a ferocity like I would expect to see in, well, someone possessed. I’ve never really encountered that before, but it’s the only way I can describe the woman. Something was plain wrong, like hearing a rustling in the dark while you sleep, or having a usually fearless dog growling at something in your room. Unnerving.


I tried to measure out a response, but I had nothing. I thought maybe I’d try to buy her lunch and talk, offer prayer or something, but she was far off down the street by then. I waited, half expecting God to bring her back my way. But she kept walking, until I lost sight of her. I wandered into a store by habit, somewhat dazed. I’ve found that, when I’m in a new place, spending money seems a willing substitute for community. But, it leaves me hollow. So, usually I don’t spend, just explore, try to meet people. Church plant, really.


I meandered around town, until I happened upon the library. I had wanted to check it out. So, I walked in, explored a bit, moved towards the chairs by the magazines. And there she was, again, sitting by herself, muttering. But this time we were in an enclosed area, so I could smell her. She had obviously been on the street for a while.


The muttering was more unnerving than the spitting, and there’s no way I could claim this double meeting as chance. So I grabbed a “Nat-Geo” magazine and found me a seat a few chairs over and in a row perpendicular to hers. Unsure of what to do, and without feeling particularly led to say anything, I waited. Every time she would start muttering, I would pray under my breath. It felt like denaturing venom, like canceling out something. Like defense (contrast to offense).


Sitting in the library, my mind was racing with scenarios, a staple of the Drew brain.


Scenario a): I start a conversation. What do I say? I don’t have any sense of leading… ( Scenario ‘a’ immediately scrapped)


Scenario b): she says something loud enough for me to hear, and I need to respond. The conversation could get loud. How do I respond to onlookers? (‘b’ appears most likely, ergo I brace myself).


Scenario c): She attacks me. Runs at me, screaming. Yells. Screams curses or something at me.

I figure I probably pray, in the name of Jesus Christ, out loud, and command her to stop. But, what if she doesn’t? Do I stand my ground like with a mountain lion (thanks, D. Gardner)? Or pull a Bear Grylls vs. rhino, waiting until the last possible moment then diving left? Or ‘Coolhand Luke’ it, and, after she takes me down, stand up until she does it again (repeat ad nauseam)? How do I do crowd/damage control if someone goes violent?


Ok. I didn’t really think about animals, or movies. But I legitimately considered all of those outcomes. What if she attacked, and God didn’t come through? What if the name of Jesus Christ didn’t work? What would I say to the onlookers? Here we encounter some of my doubt, that of which I previously spoke. I truly felt threatened, and hated, yes, but it revealed a deeper brokenness in my heart. How such a small ripple can challenge me, oh sailor of Sunfish, and challenge my faith too. Praise God that my ‘anchor in the veil’ is Christ, for I am decidedly unstable. I am not as much a rock as I had hoped.


But then she left. She just up and went, muttering and all, albeit muttering less after my prayers. And I finished my magazine.


Fun fact of the week: the locals say New Bern was once the Wicca capital of the United States. Perhaps my unnerving is merited.


I woke up twice that night, wide awake, and the only thing I could think to do was pray for the city, both times. I reckon God is leading me, but this is all new. I eventually fell asleep singing the chorus to ‘Desert Song’ (Brooke Fraser) over and over in my head. Great song.


I’m reading Bonhoeffer, “Life Together”. It’s on the fluid reading list, after “Celebration of Discipline” (Foster). I feel like I’m kicking over anthills and finding diamonds. ‘Celebration’ is phenomenal in that it walks you through ways of entering God’s presence practically. But ‘Life’, is genuinely worshipful. It speaks of the way that we have Christian community, through Christ (removing shame and ego) and in Christ (relying not on what others do to determine our behavior towards them, but instead relying on what God has done to us both, in Christ). Then it talks about how community is essential, because Christians are, to eachother, both living testimonies of the present and communal nature of a triune God, and witnesses to the Gospel for eachother. I was forced to worship as I read- a sign of a darn good book. Should be required reading (at least the first 30 pages) for camp staff. And all my friends. Read that book.


And so I pray for community. I have some, though little, and it’s growing, praise God. And the Spirit within me is all I theologically need, though it’s often harder to act that way when you don't feel it

Pray for me in that, and pray for spiritual discernment too, that I would know what I’m up against, how to respond, and for the faith so to do.


I am not a rock.


But with God, and with many of you as my true Christian community,

I am not an island either. And for that I’m grateful.


-drew




*a new train of thought. yes I did.

2 comments:

  1. Oh, for love in community! Past, present, future.
    Thinking of you and sending you good words from the farm,

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  2. If you don't want to be spat on, quit wearing your HGC t-shirt!
    As for the library incident, I would say simply, "What we have here...is a failure to communicate..." Or was it?
    You are on track!!!! Just keep letting the Lord guide you. It's fun isn't it?
    Your long distance mentor...
    Steve

    ReplyDelete