CONFESSIONS OF A RELUCTANT DEACON
Jeremiah 29:11-13, Romans 12:6-13
I have no sermon today. But before you get too excited, I would like to speak from the heart, about my experience as a Deacon, and the very unexpected spiritual journey it has taken me on. As I began to try and put my thoughts down on paper, I realized it was starting to sound more like true confessions than a sermon. After several attempts to take another direction, I came to the conclusion that if I did not make these confessions, my story would never make sense. So, I am going to lay it all out there, and hope that maybe a few of you have had some of the same thoughts. Feel free to let me know afterwards; then maybe this wonít be a totally humiliating experience for me.
As far back as I can remember, I have always believed that God puts us on earth for a purpose, beyond our daily lives of work, family and friends. We are each given a gift or talent that is to be used to serve the ěgreater goodî; to make a difference in the world. I went into a ěhelping profession.î I became a nurse, then a nurse practitioner, and I was certainly serving a lot of people. But that was my job, what I was paid to do. Could this qualify as my purpose? And what is my talent or gift? There are thousands of others doing this same job. I thought not, especially since I was being paid to do it! Iíve donated money and time to a variety of causes over the years, but often thought, ěHow much difference does that really makeî? There must be some grand plan God has for me and Iíd better figure it out soon as Iím not getting any younger.
One day, four years ago, I got a call from Jill Cifelli that I had been nominated for Deacon. I couldn’t figure out how that had happened. I thought I was quietly flying under the radar, coming to church maybe two out of four Sundays, volunteering for little things here and there, talking to the same people I had always known. How did they find me?? My first instinct was to politely decline, but something told me to check it out. Remember that “something told me part”; we’ll get to that with the true confessions! So, I asked Jill what the job entailed, and she told me we either had to make coffee or deliver flowers every 6 weeks, attend a meeting once a month, and beyond that I could be as involved as I wanted to be. I asked if it was required to visit people and pray with them, if so, then I was not the person for the job. Public praying was just not my thing. She assured me that was not a requirement, and I would not have to do anything I did not feel comfortable with. So I gave her a reluctant yes, as that “you should do it thought” would not leave me.
I spent the summer pointing out to myself all the positive reasons why saying yes was such a great decision: I would meet new people, I like planning events, and Deacons are all about fellowship. This will be fun! I went to the first meeting in September, ready to get involved. Everything was fine until they handed out the ministry team assignments towards the end of the meeting. I was assigned to the Prayer Team! Was this some kind of cruel joke? Do the Deacons haze their new members? I looked around and Jill Cifelli was nowhere to be found. I donít think I heard another word that was said the rest of the meeting. As soon as it was over, I went to Carolyn Kozlowski who was the head of the prayer team and explained this terrible mistake that had been made. She assured me she had felt the same way when she started, but that it was very easy. You just need to read the prayers off the card and you can add to it if you want. I should just try it once, and if I was really unhappy then they would change my assignment. So, once again, I said yes. That first Sunday we gathered around the piano, and I had my cards in my sweaty palms ready to read; when Liz Pasko leads us off in this amazing, off the top of her head prayer about all kinds of things before she gets into the specific prayers in front of her. All I could think of was ěthese Deacons are a tricky bunch.î When my turn came, I read my cards, with feeling, but no embellishments and continued to do so for the next several weeks, feeling sorry for the people whose cards I got. But as the weeks went on, I realized God probably didnít care how eloquent my prayers were, but the spirit of what we were doing was more important than how it was said. I never would have thought I would be saying that being on the Prayer Team was a good experience, but it truly was. It has also shown me how much people in this congregation care about each other; members are an interconnected community ready to support each other, not just a group of people who have chosen to go to the same church. My prayers are still not the most eloquent at the piano, but have improved over time, and Iím certainly glad I gave it a try.
So how did I end up here? Those Deacons who know me well, know I am really out of my comfort zone here. They have been so supportive of me doing this, and I donít think I would be up here without that support. When I got the call from Carolyn Kozlowski asking me to be vice president of the Deacons, I believe my first words to her were ěDid everyone else say no?î She assured me that was not the case. I figured Iím an organized person, I can do this. I was already to tell her yes and then I remembered; the vice president becomes the president and the president has to give the sermon on Deacon Sunday. So I told her I had to decline. There was no way I could EVER do that. Whew, close call!
She called me again later in the week and said if Deacon Sunday was the only thing holding me back, to please reconsider. We would have a new associate pastor the year I became president, who would probably love to give the sermon for me, or maybe some of the other Deacons would do it. Besides, she told me, you may be surprised what can happen in two years. You may change your mind. Again, that nagging ěyou should do itî voice was with me, and here I am, up here, sweaty palms and all.
So that pretty much covers the reluctant Deacon part. Now we get to the really hard part for me; the true confessions. Iím sure youíve all heard Jeff say ěif the spirit moves youî or ěif God speaks to youî when volunteers are needed for projects or if decisions need to be made about various issues in the church. For some reason, one Sunday it really started me thinking; has God ever talked to me? Does God talk to everyone else that is here today? Am I the only one that doesnít get it? I talk to God, and I think God listens, but I could not recall ever feeling that God talked to me or even thinking about if God talked to me. So I decided maybe I need to listen better. Unfortunately, the only times I remembered to listen better, were when I was in church. Never during the sermon of course! My husband, who is a pilot and a very patient man, has this very nice way of letting me know that I need to give him an answer about something. Heíll say ěTalk to me Goose,î which for those of you who donít know, is a famous line from the movie Top Gun, which is apparently every pilotís favorite movie. When I hear those words, I know its decision time and heís tired of waiting for an answer. Sitting in my pew the next few weeks I felt that same way. ěTalk to me God. Iím listening now.î But nothing happened that made me feel that God was communicating with me. Then one day it came to me. What if God finally speaks to me and tells me to sell everything, leave my family and go to Africa and set up an AIDS clinic. I canít do that; Iím just not that good a person. What do I do, pretend I didnít hear? Itís God, God will know I heard. So I decided to stop listening so hard; maybe things were better just the way they were.
Two years ago, I got a call from the medical director at Capital Health System, asking if I had any time I could give them in the Family Health Center. They had a new doctor that was coming in the Fall after she passed her boards, so any time I could give them until then would be greatly appreciated. I had worked in this clinic ten years ago with this same physician and I knew what hard work it was. Summer was coming; did I really want to give up my day off to work really hard in an inner city clinic? So I thought about it and I prayed about it. I asked God to let me know if this was something God wanted me to do. In the end, all I had was that ěI should do it feelingî again; so I said yes.
The work was as hard as I had remembered, but also rewarding. But one experience in particular was quite an eye opener for me. A Polish man in his late 40ís came in to be seen, accompanied by his 16-year-old daughter as translator. The daughter said her father had been told he had a ělump in his stomachî while he was still in Poland approximately a year ago, and that if he didnít take care of it, it could make him very sick. He had been to the clinic two months ago and had tests, but they didnít find anything, she said. I looked through his chart and he had the appropriate labs done as well as a CAT scan, and as his daughter said, all were normal. He looked healthy enough; not like someone who had a cancerous lesion growing for a year. Maybe he misunderstood the doctor in Poland and he just needed some reassurance. I asked his daughter to have him point to where the lump was. He pointed at the lower right side of his abdomen. I had her step outside while I examined him, at which time he pointed to the groin area instead of his lower abdomen. The man had an obvious hernia that any first year student would have found. Iím not sure what happened at his prior visit, but most likely it was a communication issue because he didnít feel comfortable describing his problem via his daughter. So I got him signed up for surgical clinic and he had his hernia repaired. Towards the end of my time at the clinic, his daughter came in with some Polish chocolate for me. ěMy father is working so he couldnít come today she said. He thanks you so much for helping him and he thanks God for sending you.î I thanked her for the chocolate and assured her I was just doing my job and I was glad to be able to help. I have to admit, I was pretty proud of the good pickup, especially since he had seen a physician his first visit. But I didnít think it qualified for divine intervention status! I finished my day and didnít think of it again until my drive home. Then it hit me. Maybe God did send me. Maybe this ěI should do itî feeling I keep getting is God talking to me. Maybe my gifts are a head for science and a heart that cares for people and my job is one way to fulfill my purpose
In my NP program, we were taught that we should practice using a conceptual framework. There are multiple nursing theorists that come up with various conceptual models you can use. I never really bought into this, so I practice using the ěIím going to treat my patients like I would treat a family memberî conceptual model. Since my epiphany of sorts at the clinic, I now have incorporated the ěWhat would Jesus doî clause, into my conceptual model. What do I mean by that? Itís hard to describe, because as a nurse practitioner, in many ways I already go the extra mile for my patients. So maybe an example would help. Anyone who is in health care knows the best two words you can hear from your patients are ěIím fine.î You know it will be an easy visit and youíll stay on schedule. My patient, Mr. C, whom Iíve taken care of along with the rest of his family for the past ten years, was in for a routine visit. I asked him how he was doing and he said, ěIím fine.î But he obviously wasnít fine. He appeared very down and wouldnít make eye contact. So I proceeded through the rest of the visit, figuring he would tell me whatís wrong if he felt like talking. We finished up and I asked if there was anything else he needed to which he replied, ěno.î I was ready to leave it at that; maybe he was just having a bad day and besides, I had a lot more patients to see. Then the ěwhat would Jesus doî clause kicked in. I sat down, told him I could see he seemed upset, and if he wanted to talk I was listening. He looked up with tears in his eyes, and told me his 15-month-old granddaughter had died of SIDS two days earlier. I was so caught off guard with this revelation and I could not think of anything comforting to say to this man. All I could think to say is ěIím so sorryî and then I started with the tears. Very professional! So we sat there for a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity to me, because I was still trying to come up with the right thing to say. Then he got himself together and thanked me. ěItís a relief to tell somebody, my family is a mess so I have to keep it together for them.î This conversation would never have taken place before this change in my ěconceptual model.íî I would have let it go after giving him that second opportunity to talk, and I would have been on schedule. Was this a life altering, world changing thing that I did? No, but I think it helped this one person on this one day when he needed it. Are there days I wish the ěwhat would Jesus doî clause was not in operation? Oh most definitely. But now that itís there, I canít seem to eliminate it.
So what have I learned on my journey? I feel at this point I have to issue one of those blanket disclaimers: ěThe views expressed here do not reflect those of the management.î My conclusions are truly my own and may be totally wrong, so donít blame Jeff or Mary Alice.
I realize I am never going to be a Mother Teresa, a Pastor Luc, or a Joe or Mary Ravenell. Iím not going to cure cancer or AIDS. Iím never going to open that free clinic for all the uninsured people of Mercer County. Iím probably never going to do anything that has a huge impact on a lot of people. But I think thatís OK now. Maybe Godís plan isnít always a grand one for everybody. Maybe my mission is to just keep trying to make a difference in my little piece of the world, and one way to do that is through how I do my job. I also realize that God is not going to talk to me in any obvious way. There will be no booming voice from the heavens, a rainbow in the middle of a thunderstorm, or a burning bush when I pull in the driveway at night, to give me a sign of what God wants me to do. I now think, and again I may be wrong, that God speaks to us through the people God brings into our lives and opportunities or situations weíre presented with. If we make our decisions based on what we think God would want us to do, hopefully it takes us down the path God intended.
I truly believe if I had not become a Deacon, I would never have had this learning experience. I wouldn’t have been in church as often, and may never have heard those words of Jeff’s that challenged me to think about if I was living my life as God intended. Also, by being more involved with the church, I’ve found another way to make a difference on a much grander scale than I would ever do on my own. This church has so many amazing mission projects that touch so many people, and there is a multitude of ways to support those missions. And, like I told myself that first summer, I did meet a lot of really nice people that I never would have gotten to know otherwise.
So if any of you out there are like I was, quietly flying under the radar, and you get that phone call, asking you to be a Deacon, or an Elder, or part of a committee or project, think about it. Pray about it. You never know where it may lead you.
May 18, 2008
Deacon SundayPam Ford
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