being open
November 11, 2018
1 Kings 17: 8-16
Arise at Grace – Meeting Billy Walsh
On a cold rainy Tuesday morning back in October of 2010, I woke around 5:30 AM, took a quick shower, got dressed and headed out to Grace United Methodist Church in downtown Greensboro. That morning I met seven other people who had previously agreed to join me and help setup tables and chairs along with setting out those huge muffins you get at places like Costco and making a big pot of coffee. A little less than two weeks earlier, I attended a conference in Wilmington, North Carolina focused on ways to imagine church in modern times. A group of six had attended that conference and after the events of the first day we got together to discuss what we were experiencing.
All of us had heard beautiful stories about people in this old mainline downtown Baptist church, opening themselves up to new imaginative ways of doing ministry and being church in Wilmington. This conference, named “Hopeful Imagination”, was appropriately named as story after story consisted of hopeful people opening themselves up to the ways in which a hope filled God was moving in their lives and the life of this church. We heard stories about a prayer shawl ministry which was started by a couple of women in the church because they wanted to make sure that everyone, not just church members, but everyone in the New Hanover Regional Hospital had one so they would always know someone was praying for them. We heard stories of teenage boys seeing strangers standing outside in the cold waiting to get inside a homeless shelter and wondering if it would be ok to bring them food and something warm to drink. Luckily for everyone when those teenage boys shared their ideas with adults in the church the adults said yes, and a new ministry began. A new ministry that is now over fifteen years old. It struck me, in listening to these stories, that everyone involved had to be open to new ideas… new possibilities for themselves and for others.
When my group gathered at the end of that first night, I remember feeling compelled to ask what we were going to do when we returned to Greensboro. You see, I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was going to do something, and I really wanted to know if people would join me. After a brief discussion I looked at everyone and said, “when I walk around downtown Greensboro during the week I see people standing on street corners holding signs informing us that they are hungry. The same street corners that are surrounded by churches with locked doors. How can that be that people are only a block away from a church, screaming about hunger, and the doors to the church are locked? I don’t know about ya’ll but something about that doesn’t seem right to me so when I get back home I’m going to feed people and I want to know if any of you want to join me.”
Well luckily some of them said yes, and even recruited some others and that is why I woke up that Tuesday morning and gathered with them. We really had no idea what we were doing, which was exciting for me, and scary for others. What we did know was that we were going to show up and when we opened the doors to the fellowship hall we were going to open ourselves to whomever walked through the doors, and that is how I met Billy Walsh.
Would you believe that very morning Billy walked into the city of Greensboro? His walk began in his native Philadelphia and that day ended in the fellowship hall of Grace United Methodist Church in downtown Greensboro, North Carolina. He had never heard of Greensboro, but when he crossed into North Carolina he received news about a fast approaching hurricane and decided to turn west instead of east and after weaving his way around landed in Greensboro, a place he continues to live today. When Billy walked through those doors that morning he looked like someone who had been living outside and walking in all sorts of weather conditions for months, and I was drawn to him and him to me. So, after he grabbed a muffin, some coffee and found a place to sit, I went and sat across from him and introduced myself. During that first conversation I learned about his walk from Philadelphia and being the curious person I am, I wanted to know all he was willing to tell me. Even though we were strangers, I guess he sensed my genuineness because he was so willing to share his story with me. He told me about being a classically trained Trumpeter as well as graduating from the Kansas City Art Institute. He told me about being an exceptional track star in high school until that day he collapsed on the trach from a small brain aneurysm. He told me about sinking into a state of depression and despair after his mother died a few months ago which lead him to start walking. He knew he needed a fresh start in life but had no idea how to get it. That craving for a fresh start is why Billy began walking, not knowing where he would end up, but walking nonetheless.
He was so open with me that day, and in his openness he appeared so light to me. Not light like lacking depth, but light like he had found the key to life itself. His smile was so large… His embrace of life was so wide… that I was drawn in. After breakfast that morning I took him to Leon’s Beauty School where he was able to get his hair washed, cut and styled, then we parted ways… that is until the following Tuesday, and the Tuesday after that and the one after that. I began introducing him to friends who welcomed this new friend into their own lives. He later expressed his desire to start painting again, so I commissioned him to do some paintings for me. Paintings that I gave a Christmas presents that year. One of those paintings was returned to me when my dad moved into the nursing home. I proudly display this painting in my office here at the church.
Looking back, that was a pretty magical time in my life, and I believe it was in Billy’s too. Here’s the thing though, what if neither of us had opened our eyes, opened our ears, opened ourselves to the possibility of this new friendship? What if neither of us had opened ourselves up to the voice of God? Would that friendship have ever happened? Would we have remained strangers passing by? Would we have even seen each other? Luckily, I don’t have to answer those questions, because at least at that point in our lives, both of us were open.
*****************************
Being open to life. Being open to the ways God is calling you to live seems easier said than done. But just because something might be easier said than done, that fact should not determine whether or not we choose to be open. Just because something is hard, or something feels difficult, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try it. Especially when the possibility of a new expansive understanding of the world and our place in the world is possible. Who knows, to close ourselves off to such a possibility, may be like closing ourselves off to God’s work in our lives.
The funny thing is, we never seem to hear stories about those who closed themselves off to God’s work do we? I’m sure those stories are out there. I’m sure there are countless examples of people choosing that path, but their stories aren’t the ones that continue being told. The stories that are told and re-told and re-told are the stories of those like Elijah and the un-named Widow from Zarephath. Stories of those, who against all odds opened themselves up to the stranger… opened themselves up to God’s work and in doing so experienced transformation. Those stories last. Those stories are the one’s that feel like miracles.
*********************************
Let’s just consider what life must have been like for Elijah and the un-named Widow. For Elijah, being open to God’s command meant he kept being relocated. Uprooted if you will, and not exactly to better, more sought after, locales. Being open to God’s command sendt Elijah to barren places that lacked the resources necessary for life. Resources like food and water. The thing is, in all of those barren places, provision was delivered to Elijah. Everywhere he went, in response to God’s command, food and water was provided. Maybe that is why Elijah spoke of provision… Spoke of abundance… In these places of desolation. You see, Elijah’s lived experience allowed him to speak words of hope, words of promise, even though it couldn’t be seen. Elijah’s eyes must have become open to a different way of seeing the world as a whole, and especially the places to which God was calling him.
If left to rely only on the naked eye, we might call Elijah a crazy man because surely his words defied logic. Surely, we might conclude, the promises of provision coming out of his mouth, defy common sense. Why would any of us hitch our wagon to someone speaking such crazy things like Elijah?
When I put myself in the shoes of the widow, these are of some of the questions and thoughts that arise. Especially when I think about her circumstances. Surely, she must have felt alone in the world, except of course for her son. Otherwise, who did she have to care for her needs. During those times, widows weren’t exactly seen as people of power and those in power certainly didn’t turn to widows for friendship. For the most part widows were a forgotten people. As one independent scholar puts it, “The widow of Zarephath labors under a death sentence.”[1] She has reached a point where all she has in enough for one more meal for herself and her son, after which she has resigned herself to their death.
Then a stranger comes along and makes demands of her, but also makes promises. Can you imagine how you would have responded? On top of that, consider that this particular widow didn’t even believe in Elijah’s God. How do we know that, well listen again to verse 12, “I swear, as surely as your God lives…” Not our God, your God. So, this woman, left to pretty much fend for herself and care for her son, encounters this stranger who, of all things, believes in some other God. What reason did she have to be open to this stranger’s request, especially knowing this stranger worshipped a different God?
Maybe she had no reason. Yet she did. When everything around her must have been telling her to disregard this man, she didn’t. When everything around her must have been telling her to finish what she had initially set out to do. When everything around her must have been telling her to give this strange man a polite “I’m not interested” send off… she did the opposite. Instead of closing herself off, she opened herself up and her life was transformed. In becoming so open to God’s work through this stranger, the widow’s reality changed. Provision was made and the provision could now be shared.
************************************
I want you to imagine for a minute what might happen in your own life if instead of closing yourself off, you opened yourself up. How might your reality change for the better? How might the reality of this church, our church, change for the better? These are the questions I believe we are being called to ask ourselves. Especially over the next week as we prayerfully consider the commitments, we will make to the church for 2019. As each family unit takes time before next Sunday to ponder and discuss how it will fill out the commitment card, I believe questions like these must be asked. I believe they are central to the task and I hope you will begin that discussion today. It’s a tall task, believe me I know, but from all accounts there is something magical about opening yourself up to God’s command.
*********************************
There certainly was for Elijah and the Widow of Zarephath. There certainly was something magical on that Tuesday morning when Billy Walsh walked into that very first ARISE at Grace breakfast. In both instances, two people opened themselves up to each other, opened themselves up to God, and provision was made and made abundantly. I pray we find whatever strength we need to become that open to God’s direction for us and for our church.
Amen!
[1] Chan, Michael J., http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2885
1 Kings 17: 8-16
Arise at Grace – Meeting Billy Walsh
On a cold rainy Tuesday morning back in October of 2010, I woke around 5:30 AM, took a quick shower, got dressed and headed out to Grace United Methodist Church in downtown Greensboro. That morning I met seven other people who had previously agreed to join me and help setup tables and chairs along with setting out those huge muffins you get at places like Costco and making a big pot of coffee. A little less than two weeks earlier, I attended a conference in Wilmington, North Carolina focused on ways to imagine church in modern times. A group of six had attended that conference and after the events of the first day we got together to discuss what we were experiencing.
All of us had heard beautiful stories about people in this old mainline downtown Baptist church, opening themselves up to new imaginative ways of doing ministry and being church in Wilmington. This conference, named “Hopeful Imagination”, was appropriately named as story after story consisted of hopeful people opening themselves up to the ways in which a hope filled God was moving in their lives and the life of this church. We heard stories about a prayer shawl ministry which was started by a couple of women in the church because they wanted to make sure that everyone, not just church members, but everyone in the New Hanover Regional Hospital had one so they would always know someone was praying for them. We heard stories of teenage boys seeing strangers standing outside in the cold waiting to get inside a homeless shelter and wondering if it would be ok to bring them food and something warm to drink. Luckily for everyone when those teenage boys shared their ideas with adults in the church the adults said yes, and a new ministry began. A new ministry that is now over fifteen years old. It struck me, in listening to these stories, that everyone involved had to be open to new ideas… new possibilities for themselves and for others.
When my group gathered at the end of that first night, I remember feeling compelled to ask what we were going to do when we returned to Greensboro. You see, I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was going to do something, and I really wanted to know if people would join me. After a brief discussion I looked at everyone and said, “when I walk around downtown Greensboro during the week I see people standing on street corners holding signs informing us that they are hungry. The same street corners that are surrounded by churches with locked doors. How can that be that people are only a block away from a church, screaming about hunger, and the doors to the church are locked? I don’t know about ya’ll but something about that doesn’t seem right to me so when I get back home I’m going to feed people and I want to know if any of you want to join me.”
Well luckily some of them said yes, and even recruited some others and that is why I woke up that Tuesday morning and gathered with them. We really had no idea what we were doing, which was exciting for me, and scary for others. What we did know was that we were going to show up and when we opened the doors to the fellowship hall we were going to open ourselves to whomever walked through the doors, and that is how I met Billy Walsh.
Would you believe that very morning Billy walked into the city of Greensboro? His walk began in his native Philadelphia and that day ended in the fellowship hall of Grace United Methodist Church in downtown Greensboro, North Carolina. He had never heard of Greensboro, but when he crossed into North Carolina he received news about a fast approaching hurricane and decided to turn west instead of east and after weaving his way around landed in Greensboro, a place he continues to live today. When Billy walked through those doors that morning he looked like someone who had been living outside and walking in all sorts of weather conditions for months, and I was drawn to him and him to me. So, after he grabbed a muffin, some coffee and found a place to sit, I went and sat across from him and introduced myself. During that first conversation I learned about his walk from Philadelphia and being the curious person I am, I wanted to know all he was willing to tell me. Even though we were strangers, I guess he sensed my genuineness because he was so willing to share his story with me. He told me about being a classically trained Trumpeter as well as graduating from the Kansas City Art Institute. He told me about being an exceptional track star in high school until that day he collapsed on the trach from a small brain aneurysm. He told me about sinking into a state of depression and despair after his mother died a few months ago which lead him to start walking. He knew he needed a fresh start in life but had no idea how to get it. That craving for a fresh start is why Billy began walking, not knowing where he would end up, but walking nonetheless.
He was so open with me that day, and in his openness he appeared so light to me. Not light like lacking depth, but light like he had found the key to life itself. His smile was so large… His embrace of life was so wide… that I was drawn in. After breakfast that morning I took him to Leon’s Beauty School where he was able to get his hair washed, cut and styled, then we parted ways… that is until the following Tuesday, and the Tuesday after that and the one after that. I began introducing him to friends who welcomed this new friend into their own lives. He later expressed his desire to start painting again, so I commissioned him to do some paintings for me. Paintings that I gave a Christmas presents that year. One of those paintings was returned to me when my dad moved into the nursing home. I proudly display this painting in my office here at the church.
Looking back, that was a pretty magical time in my life, and I believe it was in Billy’s too. Here’s the thing though, what if neither of us had opened our eyes, opened our ears, opened ourselves to the possibility of this new friendship? What if neither of us had opened ourselves up to the voice of God? Would that friendship have ever happened? Would we have remained strangers passing by? Would we have even seen each other? Luckily, I don’t have to answer those questions, because at least at that point in our lives, both of us were open.
*****************************
Being open to life. Being open to the ways God is calling you to live seems easier said than done. But just because something might be easier said than done, that fact should not determine whether or not we choose to be open. Just because something is hard, or something feels difficult, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try it. Especially when the possibility of a new expansive understanding of the world and our place in the world is possible. Who knows, to close ourselves off to such a possibility, may be like closing ourselves off to God’s work in our lives.
The funny thing is, we never seem to hear stories about those who closed themselves off to God’s work do we? I’m sure those stories are out there. I’m sure there are countless examples of people choosing that path, but their stories aren’t the ones that continue being told. The stories that are told and re-told and re-told are the stories of those like Elijah and the un-named Widow from Zarephath. Stories of those, who against all odds opened themselves up to the stranger… opened themselves up to God’s work and in doing so experienced transformation. Those stories last. Those stories are the one’s that feel like miracles.
*********************************
Let’s just consider what life must have been like for Elijah and the un-named Widow. For Elijah, being open to God’s command meant he kept being relocated. Uprooted if you will, and not exactly to better, more sought after, locales. Being open to God’s command sendt Elijah to barren places that lacked the resources necessary for life. Resources like food and water. The thing is, in all of those barren places, provision was delivered to Elijah. Everywhere he went, in response to God’s command, food and water was provided. Maybe that is why Elijah spoke of provision… Spoke of abundance… In these places of desolation. You see, Elijah’s lived experience allowed him to speak words of hope, words of promise, even though it couldn’t be seen. Elijah’s eyes must have become open to a different way of seeing the world as a whole, and especially the places to which God was calling him.
If left to rely only on the naked eye, we might call Elijah a crazy man because surely his words defied logic. Surely, we might conclude, the promises of provision coming out of his mouth, defy common sense. Why would any of us hitch our wagon to someone speaking such crazy things like Elijah?
When I put myself in the shoes of the widow, these are of some of the questions and thoughts that arise. Especially when I think about her circumstances. Surely, she must have felt alone in the world, except of course for her son. Otherwise, who did she have to care for her needs. During those times, widows weren’t exactly seen as people of power and those in power certainly didn’t turn to widows for friendship. For the most part widows were a forgotten people. As one independent scholar puts it, “The widow of Zarephath labors under a death sentence.”[1] She has reached a point where all she has in enough for one more meal for herself and her son, after which she has resigned herself to their death.
Then a stranger comes along and makes demands of her, but also makes promises. Can you imagine how you would have responded? On top of that, consider that this particular widow didn’t even believe in Elijah’s God. How do we know that, well listen again to verse 12, “I swear, as surely as your God lives…” Not our God, your God. So, this woman, left to pretty much fend for herself and care for her son, encounters this stranger who, of all things, believes in some other God. What reason did she have to be open to this stranger’s request, especially knowing this stranger worshipped a different God?
Maybe she had no reason. Yet she did. When everything around her must have been telling her to disregard this man, she didn’t. When everything around her must have been telling her to finish what she had initially set out to do. When everything around her must have been telling her to give this strange man a polite “I’m not interested” send off… she did the opposite. Instead of closing herself off, she opened herself up and her life was transformed. In becoming so open to God’s work through this stranger, the widow’s reality changed. Provision was made and the provision could now be shared.
************************************
I want you to imagine for a minute what might happen in your own life if instead of closing yourself off, you opened yourself up. How might your reality change for the better? How might the reality of this church, our church, change for the better? These are the questions I believe we are being called to ask ourselves. Especially over the next week as we prayerfully consider the commitments, we will make to the church for 2019. As each family unit takes time before next Sunday to ponder and discuss how it will fill out the commitment card, I believe questions like these must be asked. I believe they are central to the task and I hope you will begin that discussion today. It’s a tall task, believe me I know, but from all accounts there is something magical about opening yourself up to God’s command.
*********************************
There certainly was for Elijah and the Widow of Zarephath. There certainly was something magical on that Tuesday morning when Billy Walsh walked into that very first ARISE at Grace breakfast. In both instances, two people opened themselves up to each other, opened themselves up to God, and provision was made and made abundantly. I pray we find whatever strength we need to become that open to God’s direction for us and for our church.
Amen!
[1] Chan, Michael J., http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2885
