I had a Moses moment this week.
Then Moses ascended from the rift valley plains of Moab to Mount Nebo, to the summit of Pisgah, which is opposite Jericho. The Lord showed him the whole land—Gilead to Dan, and all of Naphtali, the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the distant sea, the Negev, and the plain of the Valley of Jericho, the city of date palm trees, as far as Zoar. Then the Lord said to him, “This is the land I promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob when I said, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ I have let you see it, but you will not cross over there.” Deuteronomy 34:1-4 (NLT)
20 years ago I (long story. Read the rest of this blog.) started getting to know people in my town who lived on the margins. People struggling with mental illness, addiction, alienation, learning difficulties, family breakdown, trauma and the aftermath of abuse, sudden financial disaster, sudden medical disaster... you name it.
It started with a monthly worship service--a multi-church group singing modern worship and telling stories. I personally took a sudden sharp turn that some of my bandmates couldn't take with me. So I rounded up a different 'band.' I never looked back.
My name doesn't appear in the official history of the org that we became, but whatever. It stands. It continues. It does good.
The Christian faith component of that group has long since been set aside, with the focus becoming more basic human decency, which is a good thing, too. They collaborate with other community groups to provide help, therapies, and other kinds of support to people who are on the margins, sometimes hanging on by their fingernails.
Groups like this one sail the outer edges, offering life jackets, or anchors, or maps. After having needed to distance myself from the org for a few years, I'm becoming a fan again.
This Sunday, at the church I pastor, we had a presentation from another org who are newer in town. We provide them with free space in and from which to work. (Or as they once put it, "to warm up and pee.") They have dug into the realities of our community over the last couple of years and become a valued part of life on the margins.
They operate from an intentional Christian faith foundation, while providing hundreds of meals to our friends who are unsheltered, living in the local emergency shelter, staying in motels, or in substandard housing. About once a week, their lead and I sit in my office and compare notes. We encourage each other, and learn.
I confess (deeeeeep breath....) to having some mixed emotions about these two 'ministries.'* Part joy, part envy.
My own work these days focusses mostly on my church. The biggest part of my job is teaching (writing a sermon and preaching it, leading a mid-week Bible study).
Part of my job is what we call 'discipleship' which mostly looks like having coffee with people and talking about faith and life.
Part of it is the nuts and bolts of any charitable organisation** - meetings, budgets, plans.
Hospital visits. Long-term care visits. Funerals. Networking. Getting and providing information. Connecting with other churches. Serving on one denominational Board, and one community Committee.
A smaller and smaller part of it (for me) is the 'street' component.
A couple of years ago, I was hanging out at the Encampment doing water runs and whatever needed doing. Talking about faith with the folks there.
Then the Encampment closed down so I started attending the weekly breakfast in the first org's storefront. No water runs, but connecting with the same friends in the same ways. Also, making my weekly rounds around the motels and campsites.
Now that same breakfast is being held in my church. I just walk downstairs, grab a coffee, and see who's there. Same friends. Similar conversations.
My own circle of those friends has become just that... a circle of friends. People I know well-ish. Folks I met when they were living rough. Some of whom have become a regular part of my congregation. Some of whom volunteer now with the 'street' work of the church (which mostly means our Sunday bag lunches program). (Which is being led very well by a member of the congregation.)
I miss being 'out there.' I miss loading up my wagon full of coffee, fruit, muffins, and sandwiches and heading into the Camp. I miss that energy and that motion. Never knowing what beauty or horror awaited.
So I had a Moses moment this week.
Somebody said something about those early days, and I found myself standing on the mountain and looking around. I looked back over the terrain I'd covered the last 20 years. I remembered the fear and uncertainty. I remembered having my eyes opened, waking up. I remembered all of the millions of steps I've taken. I remembered getting things started and finding that others were glad of the opportunity to start moving, too. The sand in our shoes. The wondering where the next whatever would come from. The joy of having new folks join the team. The times of laughing together over things that nobody else would get.
Me and Moses... we understand faithfulness. Patience. Heartbreak. Frustration. Relief.
Me and Moses... we know what it is to stand on the mountain and look from a distance at our legacy. Knowing that sometimes we pass the torch. Sometimes we watch others carry it off across the river and into new territory.
It's been said that "Them as can, do. Them as can't, teach."
I have 'done.' Me and my purple hat.
I will continue to 'do' as needs and opportunities arise. I get phone calls, and people knocking on the door. I give rides to friends from time to time.
I will absolutely 'teach.' It's a rare sermon I preach that makes no mention of the Church's calling to walk with people the Bible describes as 'widows, orphans, and foreigners.'
But I know that at this moment, this changing of seasons, what I most have to offer my younger friends serving in these orgs is my experience. My respect. My support. My empathy. Whatever wisdom I've gleaned. I've asked myself honestly... is it more important for me to get an adrenaline rush doing the work, or is it more important that the work gets done?
I doubt there will again be a day when I'm bundling up in layers and solid boots to go sit in a friend's tent on the icy lake shore. Someone else is doing the rounds to the motels and rooming houses. I am, more and more, just standing as an example (I hope) that you can do this work and not lose your humanity.
I know (and I've written about this before) that my role has shifted. From foot-soldier to chaplain. It's something that I've wrestled with but, having stood with Moses on the mountain, I understand it better now.
It's part of growing up.
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* Gonna use that word partly because it's a pastor word and partly because they do both minister to people.
** Note to self: write your annual report!
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