Old friends are very much like the stars of heaven; eternal lights crossing our darkest nights, the mystical sign that God is. That God is good.
I will never forget the night my mentor and friend and I were in a three way conversation with a passionate, at times even hot headed young man, walking through the dark of his nights. Aaron, my friend under whom I ministered in three settings was listening, keenly aware that this young man simply needed a "safe" hearing. I could see that as well.
Now, the reason Aaron had nurtured me from my childhood, when he came to our church as an interim associate pastor, was because he saw in me a young, passionate man with a tender heart and insightful mind. Our church had just suffered the moral failure of our senior pastor; a kind, generous and charismatic person who destroyed his gifted ministry in a moment of thoughtless behavior. Dr. Melsa Brown, whose dignity and grace reminded me of Billy Graham, had become our senior interim pastor and wisely brought from our church college another to pastor alongside him, Aaron Knapp. In that church, deeply hurt and reeling from the sin of its pastor, Aaron perfected the art of listening and then, listening some more.
Decades later I had the privilege of observing this kind hearted minister (Aaron) as he patiently received the pain, confessions, anger, arrogance, intentional and sometimes petty critiques of others, occasionally directed at him; all with pastoral grace. In this moment as our friend poured out his anger against the government and God who allowed a genuine injustice to go unchecked I was determined to simply receive, process, ask questions that would help our friend do the same. All without a hint of judgment. That is until..
I don't recall what "the until" was but something was said that I believed needed illumination if our friend was to address the legitimate concerns of the government official and so disarm the over-the-top power trip the government agent was apparently on. However I did not artfully ask non-judgmental questions designed to enable this smart young man to re-imagine his conflict. In just a minute or two our parishoner and friend was now angry with me, each of us escalating till he finally turned and left.
Aaron glanced at me and likely said something sarcastic like, "Well that was fun", smiling and frowning at the same time—as only he could. He was kind. We both knew that I had blown it and now Aaron would have pieces to pick up the next day and that we would later unpack the conversation for my benefit.
So what brings up this particular memory? I, overtime, have become more like my friend, Aaron; patiently looking to the next conversation or the one after that to make up what was not yet addressed in the last. But in this story, on this night it seemed a long way off. Further, i have become the good and kind hearted pastor who betrayed the trust of the congregation; actually my sin far more grevious.
I will never forget playing as children do, on an late spring night, just outside my childhood church. I was running around a huge, square black car in the black of a Sunday night with only the street light to illuminate the four dark silhouette of men sitting in the car. Even as I ran around that car, deep in a child's imagination at play, I remember suddenly feeling cold inside. I ran into the parsonage where I knew my parents were, probably keeping company with the pastor's wife, cause I somehow knew the pastor's shape in shadows of light I had just seen in the car. As I bounced into the parsonage I stopped, frozen, by the image of my parents comforting my pastors wife. Clearly play was done. It was time for listening. 1
Two hours ago I received a call from a pastor whose thoughtful, firm, loving spirit smooths any room he enters; very much like Aaron, whose memory I hold dear. Like Aaron, he is a trusted friend. Unlike Aaron, we are not close—simply a matter of proximity and time. Still, there are those you know, even from a distance, as uniquely good. He called, tender of heart, thoughtful, reflective and asking how I was. Importantly he asked a range of questions, as I invited him in, that are and will be helpful should God kindly allow an older son of the Church to know restoration. Then he prayed with and for me.
I am way past trying to program a future, as I know time is limited and every day offers a learning narrative for the mission beyond death. But I rest assured that on this partly overcast Friday night the stars will shine in the heavens, as an eternal sign of God's friendship with me. I am grateful for friends far and near.
Terry
04/05/24
1 Note: Over the next decade my parents stayed very close to our former pastor and I had the privilege of watching both the difficulty and promise of personal/pastoral restoration.
Comments