I woke up yesterday morning on the couch. A fussy, swaddled two-week old is finally asleep on my chest. Our 3-year-old sits next to me. He’s been watching train videos on the iPad for 30 minutes…while I slept. Whoops. Don’t tell his mother. She’s asleep in the bedroom, recovering from a very long night.
I hurriedly get our red-haired train fanatic ready for Mother’s Day Out. Momma does this faster than me. But she’s busy nursing the baby. I hear crying from the back seat during our entire 8 minute car ride. He wanted to stay home today. We arrive 10 minutes late.
On my way home, I stop by a homeless hideout. It’s behind a row of businesses. A man I’ve been working with is in his sleeping bag. He doesn’t think the help I’ve offered him is enough. So he’s back here again, trying to make it on his own, sleeping by the dumpsters. I wake him up and we talk for a while.
A few weeks ago, a drug dealer came here and offered one of the guys $1,000/week, an apartment, and a BMW. All this homeless man had to do was make some weekly “deliveries.” He rejected the dealer’s offer and immediately called my cell. He needed encouragement that he’d just made the right decision. Fast food employees go in and out a back door, taking trash to the dumpsters. They recognize the homeless man, but not me. I wonder what they’re thinking as I see them steal furtive glances my way. Who do they think I am? Another drug dealer? A friend?
I try having a meaningful conversation as I sit on the dirt. But I’m also watching out for ants that may bite my leg at any second.
My offer of help is politely refused today (but accepted later that night, before the rainstorm comes). I get back in the car and head for home.
I see I’ve missed two phone calls and two texts. I’m needed at church. A storage closet is locked and I’m the Keeper Of The Keys.
I pull into the garage just as someone else is pulling up to our front door. It’s a kind friend who’s donating her double stroller to us. She shows us how to use it, then asks me how to best help when people ask for money on the streets. That woman yesterday in the grocery store parking lot…should she have given her money? Is that just enabling addictions?
I encourage her to ask the Holy Spirit for guidance in each interaction. Lancaster Street has three organizations that can truly help them. Beyond that, I have no good answers.
Two more missed texts. I forgot about the locked storage closet. I’ve now kept a person waiting at church for 45 minutes. Whoops. I go unlock the door.
I’m now talking with a homeless man who’s working inside. I’m paying him a little to help us at church. We’re interrupted…The women’s bathroom in our building’s old section flooded.
A sink won’t drain. A slow stream of water filled the wash basin all night, even with the faucets turned off. And the shutoff valve underneath is rusted stuck. It’s a trifecta of plumbing woes.
As weird as it sounds, this is a pretty normal morning for me.
I grab a plunger. The wet carpet sloshes beneath my feet. I begin plunging the sink.
Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.
Nasty brown debris comes out of the drain. It’s just rust…I hope.
I suddenly remember Brother Lawrence, a 17th century monk. A priest compiled a list of Lawrence’s personal resolutions, from what we would call ‘journal entries.’ The man also transcribed several conversations he had with Brother Lawrence. Lawrence’s writings and conversations became known as a work entitled The Practice of the Presence of God.
Brother Lawrence served as a cook in his monastery for many years. An old injury and limp eventually forced Lawrence to take a job with less standing — mending monk’s old and sweaty sandals. In a hot kitchen, Lawrence first learned to “practice the presence of God” while preparing food, cleaning pots, and cooking over fires.
My sink plunging continues. Am I plunging the way my preaching professors taught me in seminary?
Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.
Brother Lawrence once said:
“Men invent means and methods of coming at God’s love, they learn rules and set up devices to remind them of that love, and it seems like a world of trouble to bring oneself into the consciousness of God’s presence. Yet it might be so simple. Is it not quicker and easier just to do our common business wholly for the love of him?”
Renovating and repairing our church’s old facility is “common business” for me. Can I plunge this sink wholly for the love of God?
The lowly kitchen monk also said:
“Nor is it needful that we should have great things to do. . . We can do little things for God; I turn the cake that is frying on the pan for love of him.”
The sink is still clogged and now the water looks disgusting. I stick my finger down the overflow drain near the sink’s top.
Now my finger stops the plunger from pushing dirty water up through that hole and making a bigger mess.
Lawrence said:
We ought not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.
A church leadership expert would probably say I should delegate work like this. Maybe I should. But the carpet is wet now. It’s too late to delegate this. Didn’t one professor say I should spend 20 hours a week preparing my sermon? Whoops. No time this week.
My hands are filthy. Water splashed on the fake marble sink and wallpaper. We really should renovate this bathroom.
The humble monk encouraged us:
“Along with this total abandonment must go a complete acceptance of God’s will with equanimity and resignation. No matter what troubles and ills come our way, they are to be willingly and indeed joyously endured since they come from God, and God knows what He is doing.”
I’m not there yet, Brother Lawrence, but I’m getting closer. I’m learning Jesus uses these broken items in our church building for his glory. In my last post, I mentioned how Jesus gives me a new story to share each time an a/c unit breaks. This man sold us refrigerant at cost, this company gave us an amazing deal on labor. The pastor of the newest church to use our building just told me his buddy owns an a/c repair company, etc, etc.
As I stood on soggy carpet plunging the sink, a Facebook message was waiting for me in my inbox. It was from a licensed plumber. I’ve never met him. He doesn’t live in my neighborhood. We have no Facebook friends in common. Yet, he somehow heard about our church’s past plumbing problems. He messaged to say he was available this week to work for us. As I write this sentence, he’ll be here in two hours.
I’m finally learning to obey Jesus’ command about not worrying. I’m doing exactly what Jesus called me to do. I’m serving his Church. This church building is simply one more tool God uses for his Church. And Jesus will build his church. We strive to faithfully use this old, dilapidated building in ways that glorify Jesus. So, of course, Jesus would put a plumber’s random offer of help in my Facebook inbox!
Just like Brother Lawrence said, “No matter what troubles and ills come our way, they are to be willingly and indeed joyously endured since they come from God, and God knows what He is doing.” My God knew what he was doing when he allowed that trifecta of plumbing woes to come my way. He knew what he was doing when he put it on a plumber’s heart to seek me out and offer his services.
As long as I continually follow where Jesus leads, he will provide my every need. I’ll keep doing my best to love people like Jesus loves. I’ll keep seeking out the homeless behind buildings. I’ll strive to be a husband and father who honors Jesus in all I do.
I’ll continue to be a pastor with a plunger, practicing the presence of God in all I do. I haven’t reached my goal yet, but I’ll keep practicing. I’ll keep inviting God’s presence into my daily, sleep-deprived and hurried pastor’s life. And I know he will never reject my invitation to join me.
