Ministry

Something wasn’t quite right when the back tires of the Boeing 757 touched down in Dallas last Sunday. Travelers lulled into quiet thoughts by an uneventful flight were driven from their peace by the sudden side to side lurch of the plane.

Our seats were at the very back and that probably added to the sway. Still, I couldn’t remember a more dramatic touch down. My fellow passengers were strangely quiet again. When I looked over at Nancy, her chin was resting almost on her chest.

“Wow!” I thought. “She can sleep through anything.”

When I reached out to touch her arm to wake her, she squinted sideways at me and whispered, “I’m praying . . . I always give thanks when I get somewhere.”

And come to think of it, she does. Praying is one of her many ministries, but a major one. Not confined to her own well-being or that of family and friends, Nancy is always in prayer.

The plane’s taxi to the terminal was relatively short by DFW International standards. Yet, getting the door open proved to be a challenge for some reason. We never knew the story, being so far back. Despite the wait and the always present desperation of passengers needing to make close connections, the plane remained quiet. Maybe there were a lot of prayers being prayed.

I left the plane with a somber feeling. Even the flight attendants and captain seemed less cheery than usual. I wondered what could change this mood that seemed to have captured all of us.

We strode up the jetway toward the terminal, then inside and up a ramp that wrapped around the glassed waiting area for Gate C8. As I rounded the last turn to head into the concourse, I saw her framed in the glass corner.

She couldn’t have been more than two. Her dad sat close by, obviously dispatched to both distract and protect his daughter. I probably wouldn’t have noticed her except for the reaction she drew from almost everyone in front of me.

She would lean in, her little palms flat against the glass. She would peer expectantly toward the upcoming ramp. Then, when she saw a new face, she would explode with a giggle and a smile. And her explosion would envelope the traveler and they seemed different.

It was the unexpected uplift of spirit that alerted me. From the side as they turned, I could see their smiles. Their backs straightened and a spring seem to come back to their steps. I was already smiling when it came my turn. But I wasn’t prepared for what was to come.

When her eyes met mine, she pushed away from the glass. As she straightened she clapped her hands and laughed loud enough for me to hear her through the pane. I told myself that her reaction to me was more animated and heart-felt. Certainly, I had brightened her day. I could feel my own smile all the way down to my toes.

As I slowed, I saw her go back into her watchful stance and then bounce in merriment when Passenger 33D came up behind me. No, I realized. This was her ministry for the day, not mine to her. And I stopped to marvel at all of the people who minister to me in countless ways every day.

I want to minister. Yet, sometimes I think that it has to be complex. All the time knowing that immense good can be done with a quiet prayer and a sincere smile.

Surprised, but not

I frequent a local coffee shop. Okay, so I frequent several local coffee shops. But one more than others. As I sit in this particular coffee shop, I find myself surprised.

I’ve come to know several really nice people who work here. I know their names because they make it easy. Nametags.

What intrigues me about these people is their constant good humor very early in the morning. Even when they confide that they’re sleepy or cold or a little anxious about things in their lives, I’ve never — ever — heard one of them express a wish to be somewhere else.

One of these friends, in particular, has grown special. She shares little bits of her life with me freely. Not intimate things, really. But the everyday victories she recognizes and celebrates are always close to the surface. She is so happy to share that I am blessed.

This morning she shared something totally different from those times before. She gave me a glimpse of her faith. A simple mention of where she was last night and how she was serving. And most importantly, why she was serving.

Surprised. But not. God works in the lives of everyone, in some way. It’s just a delight to get a close-up look.

Seeking Peace

This seems to be my season of the year for overhearing conversations. No, that’s not right. I listen in almost all of the time. Not in an intruding, eavesdropping, sort of way. No, just capturing minute bursts as I pass by.

I pass by one group of gentlemen quite often. They frequent our local coffee shop. I admire them. Most often they’re at their table sipping coffee and sharing news long before sun-up. I often overhear what they say because . . . well, because they talk loud.

All of these men are well-educated. I don’t know about academic pedigree, but I have heard enough to know that they are constantly in search of new ideas. If I have a question about breaking news, someone at that table will know. And, as I have discovered, at least some of them will also share their personal commentary and analysis of that news.

As I passed with coffee in hand this morning, one of the trio in attendance this morning made a remarkably outlandish statement. I slowed my pace a bit, because I expected the proclamation to draw the ire of someone in the group. I watched as well as I could with a sideways glance. I saw one of the men stiffen and pull himself straighter in his chair. I could feel his response building in pressure.

Then, slowly he exhaled, allowing the pressure to vent. He leaned forward and looked the proclaimer straight in the eye and said, “Isn’t that something? I would never believe that something like that would happen.”

That was it. Kindly, gently, he made his opinion known. No confrontation. Just honesty.

And the conversation continued. That’s the important thing. The conversation continued.

Teamwork

A lot of what we do where I work is help people deal with conflict. Most often these folks are or have been working together. Sometimes they are in daily contact. Other times they are simply partners in a short term project. On occasions they are volunteers working on a cause. And sometime, they’re just friends or family members.

Wherever people are together, you have a breeding ground for conflict. And much of it is healthy. Conflict helps us set boundaries in relationships. It tells us when something isn’t working.

I’m blessed. My regular, day-to-day relationships are filled with people who are skilled in dealing with conflict. It doesn’t stop conflict from happening. But, most of the time, the conflict comes and goes as a natural part of living. We bristle a little, we steam a bit, we laugh a lot, and we learn. We’re a team.

Yet, a good part of my idle thought turns toward people who choose not to be team players. They use conflict as a battle ground or they choose to ignore it. These are the individuals who push into my prayer life. I see their faces when I fight feelings of anger and hopelessness.

I have to remember that despite my personal struggle, we’re all members of the team. And they really must act that way. Or, more correctly, I really must act that way.

Essential Conversation

I was waiting at the restaurant for a friend. Arriving early, I carried in a notebook and spent some time taking note of my thoughts and my plans for the day.

Nearby, three men sat talking. They were older than me by at least a decade. They were obviously friends. And they knew how to have a real conversation.

It was apparent that the purpose of their meeting was simply to be with each other. In that same restaurant that morning were at least four groups who had come for specific purposes — business meetings, prayer time, romantic relationships, and food consumption. But these guys were simply there to enjoy each other’s company.

In the space of fifteen minutes, they talked about basketball (out of season, no less), the recent rain, the floods from the recent rain, the war in Iraq, the color of a wife’s new car, a good deal on a set of tires, the recent rain (again), high school football, the proper way to pronounce Osama Bin Laden and whether or not he might be related to Barack Obama, yet another way to pronounce Osama Bin Laden and whether or not he might be related to Hillary Rodham Clinton, the constitutionality of red-light cameras, and whether or not it might rain again. And these weren’t distinct and separate conversations. At any moment, any of the three might launch off on a new subject.

Yet, no one was offended when the agenda was thwarted. Instead, as each man spoke the others listened in appreciation for the speaker if not his words.

My phone rang in the midst of all of this — my breakfast meeting was not to be. So I finished up my coffee, threw a couple of dollars on the table to cover my tab and worked my way past the men toward the door.

They were leaving, too. No decisions had been made. No problems solved. No new directions taken. The all-important question was when they could come back together again.

Somehow, some way, I have to believe that most things in the world would go better if we were more focused on staying in community for community’s sake. That would be essential conversation.