Mt 25:40
Twenty-one years ago I was broken. I am still broke. All my life goals and designs had been shattered. My intended career was no more. I was searching for meaning. My family had dissolved some five years earlier and I still was not at peace with that. I had a residence but it was not home. There is truth to the lyrics that say a “house is not a home”
The year was 2001. I still had a relationship with the Federal Emergency Management Agency. I served there from 1983 until 1992. It was there that I restored my tattered military career. It was there that I was promoted to Captain. It was there that I was awarded the Air Force Commendation Medal. It was there that I was able to show my skills as a team member.
I had endured a period of homelessness I knew the pain of hunger. I knew the gloom of loneliness. It was here that God met me at my lowest. My favorite hymn was Blessed Assurance. My favorite Biblical hero was the Apostle Paul. God was leading all the time but now I was aware of His presence.
I can recall while my peers at Seminary jostled for Pastorates, I had embraced the joy of a ministry to those in need. This was my state in 2001. I had served a Chaplaincy at Lankenau Hospital, Abington Hospital, and Thomas Jefferson Hospital. However, like the Apostle Paul, I had a thorn in my side. I was suffering from intense Bi-Polar Depression. Could I handle the pain of others?
God calls the broken to heal the broken. The famous theologian, Henry Nouwen writes about the “Wounded Healer.” I was called to serve in New York in 2001. I was called to work with FEMA at the World Trade Center site. The work was hard. My work was to facilitate Critical Incident Stress Debriefings with the relief workers at the site. One can imagine what I heard. Yet somehow my pain was never present when I was working with the workers. This was my calling.
For fifteen years after New York, I worked with the American Red Cross. In Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, South Carolina, Texas, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Nevada, and California I served with the Red Cross. I ministered to others who had endured the most terrible of losses. All the while I had my demons.
My pain was grievous. More than once I attempted to end my life. I was hospitalized several times. My only good times were when I was serving others. I excelled and was appointed a manager in the Red Cross.
In 2015, I accepted a role that would be defining. I began to work with the military at the Joint Personnel Effects Center and the Air Force Mortuary Center. I saw the bloody effects of deceased military members. I saw families overwhelmed with grief and I saw young service members dealing with the costs of their vocation. It was a thankless role and my peers and superiors were petty and contrary. It was a very difficult time. My only reward came from making a difference. The time came when my service was no longer appreciated. It was then that my caregivers worked out a retirement for me. In 2016 I was done.
It has been five years now. Twenty-one years after I saw hardened firemen and Police Officers in tears. Twenty-one years after senseless death and the calling of God in my life. Now I am in the twilight of my life. Yet I still feel the call of God in my life.
The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore, pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest Mt 9:37-38.
My task remains to protect, restore, and rebuild my fellow Sister and Brother.
I may not be as pious as my peers. I may not have the mega church. Yet the entire world is my congregation and I never know to whom I will minister. I am a shepherd. I believe I will die as a shepherd. Yet when I die I would have lived. God knows I have lived a Mt 25:40 life.
The joy of a thankful child is with me. The gratitude of the woman who expressed it by washing my soiled clothes, in Alabama, remains. The love of a woman who was able to overcome the fear of a life-threatening experience resounds in my mind. The hug and kiss from a woman in Hawaii speaking an unknown language still bring a smile.
I was a shepherd. I am a Chaplain.
