Good and Faithful Servant

Although I have been a part of many, many funerals, today is one of the few times that I have officiated at a funeral for someone with “Rev.” in front of their name. I had the chance to know Rev. Marvin Fortel only for the few months that I have been in Blue Springs, but that limited acquaintance has been a joy.

The only reason that I can blog about him is that I am fairly certain that Harriet, his wife, does not read these writings. I have rarely met a more modest couple. Even today’s funeral is supposed to be a modest, dignified, and simple affair. I will do my best to abide by their wishes, but I have no control over the number of people who attend. Harriet’s expectations are that only family and a few others will be there. Based on the phone calls that we have had at church, she is mistaken.

My visits with Marvin were a delight. I got to hear some wonderful stories about his life in ministry. For instance, I got to hear about the time when Martin Luther King, Jr. had been assassinated. He partnered with the African-American leaders in his community for a peaceful march. The members of his church were less than pleased to see the pastor of their church splayed across the front page of the paper the next day, co-leading the march. I got to hear about appointments that were easy and joyful, and those that were less so, as is true for every pastor in our system.

Best of all, as pastors are wont to do when together, we talked about current church issues and politics. He had a marvelous take on the whole Koran-burning mess that still makes me smile to think about. (I would tell you, but I still see Harriet elbowing him, saying “Oh, Marvin!”) I always left his house feeling better than when I arrived, and I believe that there are many people out there who would say the exact same thing about his years in ministry.

One day, our associate pastor made a request when visiting him. Rather than Choong-Ho praying for him, would Marvin offer a blessing for him? Marvin did, and both of them were affected by that experience. It was an Elisha/Elijah moment, and I believe that Choong-Ho’s ministry will be more powerful for the blessing of a man such as Marvin. I wish I had thought of it myself. Failing that, however, I am certain that I have indeed been blessed by my too-short friendship with an amazing man.

Today, we will lay Marvin to rest. May his witty, engaged, energetic, forward-thinking, compassionate, obedient, and loving spirit continue on in all of those whom he has blessed in his ministry.

The Difference Between 48 and 22

The difference between 48 and 22 is 26. This weekend, I discovered that the gap is much larger than that in human years. My 22-year-old son, Winn, was home with us. One day, he went out for a run. After running a few miles around our neighborhood, he discovered a 5-mile long trail in a nearby park, and so he ran it, also. After he got back from his long run, he told us what a beautiful trail it was.

Yesterday, Andy and I decided to hike the trail ourselves. If our son ran it at a pace of about 6 minutes per mile, we figured we would walk about half as slow, so the trail would take us a little bit more than an hour. We took off at a brisk pace, enjoying the beauty of the fall woods on a beautiful afternoon. We saw woodpeckers, groundhogs, and gorgeous lake views. We talked about work and life. We walked. And walked. And walked some more. The sun began to sink lower in the sky. Conversation slowed perceptibly. I stopped noticing the wildlife, and instead I focused on keeping one foot in front of the other. We decided that we must be most of the way there. I kept looking hopefully for any sign that the end of the trail was near. Finally, we emerged from the woods into a parking lot.

Except that it wasn’t our parking lot. It turns out that the trail included a mile of walking on the shoulder of a busy road. Watchfully keeping an eye on the speeding, oncoming traffic, we trudged the mile to the next parking lot. Which, once again, wasn’t our parking lot. We saw a map, showing us that we had almost another mile to go to our parking lot. Finally, two hours after we started out, we made it to the car, where I gratefully collapsed.

Last night, our muscles moaned and groaned. Today, I’m still a little stiff. Mainly, I’m put out that my 48-year-old body can’t romp through a long hike the way it used to. After all, if my son could run it, I should be able to walk it without thinking twice. It looks like some things don’t come as naturally at 48 as they did at 22. I’ll have to work a little harder on working out. However, the increase in wisdom, experience and joy that I have earned over the years- I wouldn’t trade them for anything!

Something I Never Do

Having served churches in and around the urban core for many years, I have become hardened to the various hard-luck stories that have come my way. More than once, I believed someone and gave them money, only to have them show back up at church a few hours later, their breath reeking of what my money had purchased. I have been burned enough times that I decided I am not a very good judge of human character. Rather than buy alcohol and drugs for whoever has the best story, my default setting has been to not help anyone.

In this church and my previous church, the office staff handles the requests for assistance. There are guidelines that they utilize. When someone seeking assistance gets me instead of the office staff, I refer them back out to the people that can actually help them.

Until today. I first saw the woman’s face as I was in a pastoral conversation with someone else in the sanctuary. She was clearly lost, trying to find her way into the mostly-locked church building. There were tears on her face as she asked if there was a prayer service going on somewhere in the church. Failing that, she asked where the office was. I directed her there as I finished my conversation, but I knew that she and I would end up talking. Sure enough, she was waiting for me when I returned to my office.

I’ve heard it all. I’ve been lied to by the best. I can’t define why her story was so compelling for me. Her face was kind. She didn’t talk about faith in the way that people do when they want something from a preacher. She didn’t exhibit signs of substance abuse. Or maybe it did not have entirely to do with her. On this sunny autumn day, I am so blessed in so many ways. My car runs, my health is fine, I have a job I love. I know where I’m going to sleep tonight, and with whom. So spending my birthday check on a woman who might get a little closer to those things because of my gift makes a certain kind of sense.

At least, I hope so. Ultimately, hope is all I have to give.

Facebook Birthday

I think I am pretty convinced that a Facebook birthday is one of the best gifts of this new information age. I am just a few hours into my birthday, and already I have heard from: the girl I sat next to in the flute section of our high school band; someone I scrubbed bathhouses with at a KOA campground during a college summer; my General Conference roommate; the president of my seminary; a niece in Florida; my sister in St. Louis; an assistant general secretary of the UMC (who is way cooler than her title sounds); clergy colleagues; and members of churches past and present. In other words, I have heard from friends from almost all walks and stages of my life. Wow.

It kind of feels like “This is Your Life” for normal people.

If birthdays are about celebrating where we’ve been and looking forward to the year ahead, then Facebook provides the perfect way to do just that. I may look like I’m busy at my desk today, working hard on church matters. Actually, I’m thinking about interminable high school band rehearsals made easier by surreptitious whispering. I’m remembering college summers spent cleaning up after campers. I’m thinking about churches I’ve served, and trusted colleagues who understand what this ministry thing is about. Mainly, I am thinking how blessed I have been by all of the people who have been in my life at just the right time.

I am blessed. Truly. If that’s the only thing that I’ve figured out in these 48 years, then that’s enough.