Rumored Thoughts (Pt. 1)

Mission is never clean; never is mission simple; never is mission easy.

Recently I’ve been confronted by the fact I don’t look like most pastors (neither do the ones I work with). I’m glad for it.

Sure there’s the preconceived notions of what pastors should look like, the way we ought to dress, the jargon we ought to use, and the places and people we ought to hang out at and with.

My thoughts on this began a while ago, but they were solidified with a rumor I heard about me (I guess being plugged into the Wichita grapevine has an advantage). It wasn’t a nasty rumor, not at all, and it was absurd enough to let it slide off my back, but it has also made me ask some questions. And the answers I’m coming up with aren’t too flattering, to myself or to other pastors.

You see mission is dirty. We’re called to go and to be within the crowd, to get to know ‘tax-collectors and sinners’ and love them in such a way so as to show Jesus to them. I don’t think there’s a way to do this and remain clean.

There’s no way to get to know a drunk unless you go to the bar. There’s no way to love the homeless guy unless you sit with them and listen. There’s no way to befriend the artists unless you go to their exhibit…

There’s going to be a few posts in this, because this is something I need to learn. Hopefully you can learn with me.

(Read all of these posts: Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6)

A Little Spilled Coffee

She had spilled a little of her coffee on his computer - but he was drunk so he could’ve cared less. He was more infatuated with the gospel music piping out of its speakers than the little bit of coffee on the corner.

Gingerly she cleared away the coffee with the sleeve of her yellow cardigan and went a little further to clean a portion of the screen where there was no coffee, just a smudge. He just sat there in his drunken stupor, seemingly unaware she was even there. She patted his knee and left. He remained intoxicated by both the alcohol and the music.

Everyone else walked by and stared, everyone else sat around and wished he’d turn down the sound. But she stopped and stooped to care just a little more than what was necessary.

She came back a little later, he still in his stupor, with a pair of headphones. Plugging them in and with the same gentleness she had cleaned his computer with handed the headphones to him. He took them, no gratitude or second thought; no hesitation or wonder, just took them.

As time wore on still more, a cup of coffee came and a breakfast sandwich appeared; this woman had bought him breakfast as well as given her headphones up and not a word of thanks was said just that he wanted to smoke a cigarette.

Compelled by who-knows-what she served a man who could’ve cared less. She loved one most considered unlovable, one whom most passed by and judged she considered and she stopped. To call her a believer or un-believer is not a judgment to be made, but to see her example and do similarly to the glory of God is no wrong thing.

The sick and destitute, the broken and forgotten of society are still creations of God, and still in need of being loved. Though it is not evangelism to clean a screen and spend a little money it is still loving to do so. Though it won’t save a man from drunken debauchery or hell it will, by the grace of God teach others to love those of the hideous underbelly of the world who live on our streets.