Another_Voice_MDF (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} anothervoicemdf) wrote,@ 2008-11-17 08:17:00 |
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Airport Evangelism
Travel has been the word of the day for the last few weeks. November has taken me to Boise, Cleveland, Atlanta, Baltimore, Salt Lake City and Washington DC, not to mention day trips to the seminaries of Union and Princeton, in New York, and New Jersey respectively. There have been a lot of stories from the road that I hope to tell in these pages soon, one of which I already mentioned here- http://anothervoicemdf.livejournal.c
By this point, I know the security procedures that my prosthetic leg requires so well I could teach TSA newbies (and did walk one or two through it when they weren’t sure of what came next.) I can tell you the relative merits of each of the New York City airports, and where to get an amazing burrito in Terminal B of Salt Lake International. But the moments that have really stuck with me, where when I found myself talking about God.
The first was humorous, the second, poignant
I had gone to Boise to meet with local clergy and give a presentation on the role people of faith can play in the effort to make comprehensive sex education available to students throughout the country. Afterward, I went straight from the event to the airport to try and catch one of the last flights out of town, (Boise to New York, by way of Salt Lake is not the most popular route, oddly enough) and so I was still wearing my clerical collar and suit when I got to security.
That’s when the fun started.
It would appear that a man dressed as a minister, but also having long hair and an eyebrow ring is enough to raise a few eyebrows amongst the good people of the Boise TSA. So after going through the normal security screening they pulled me aside, and while one person methodically went through my bags, the other made a point of sitting off to the side and keeping up a constant stream of questions about my ministry.
Now on the one hand, I think this must be standard procedure. The person asking me questions made a point to sit opposite her colleague so that her questions made me focus on her and I couldn’t pay attention to the woman searching my bags. But the woman quizzing me focused all her questions on why I was wearing a collar- am I really a minister, what did I believe, what kind of church did I come from? My personal favorite- how could I be a man of God if I had an eyebrow ring, since, didn’t the Bible forbid “desecrating the temple of the flesh?” Those were exact words.
It became clear as we spoke that she didn’t believe I was a real minister, and so she thought must be wearing the collar to try and hide something, to try and get past security. She quizzed me, asking me my favorite book of the bible, or how I felt about a particular parable, and was visibly surprised when I not only knew what she was referring to, but could talk knowledgably on the subject.
There was a point in the conversation when it seemed she moved from suspicion to curiosity. When she was no longer making me prove that I was a real minister, a real Christian, but was instead learning about how someone could love the same Bible she did, love the same God she did, but come to such different conclusions then she did on the nature of justice and God’s love, and what we are called to do in this world.
Maybe by the end she believed I was a minister and was just being polite. Or maybe the whole thing was just because my razor or something else in my bag set something off, and she never cared one way or the other about why I was wearing a collar. But I have to say I honestly believed she was suspicious because when she saw me, I simply did not fit her idea of what a minister could be, what a Christian could be. I believe that, and that by the end of our time talking, (and by the time her colleague was satisfied I had no contraband in my bag) her idea of what it meant to be a Christian might just have expanded a little bit. If that’s not evangelism, I don’t know what is.
The other event happened a few days later. I was coming home from Cleveland, Ohio where I had done a training with an interfaith group of clergy, and I was bone tired after so much travel. I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize, and as I had a few outstanding contacts I was waiting to hear back from for work things, I decided to answer it.
But it wasn’t anyone I knew. A few weeks ago, I had done a training for counselors at a hospital that deals with second trimester abortions, a two day procedure that can be rather intense. Most of the training was on helping the counselors to handle spiritual issues that the patients might raise, but I also let them know that they could give patients my number if they needed more in depth spiritual care. The call was from a woman who had set up an appointment to have her procedure later in the week, and wanted to talk to a clergy person about some concerns she had about what she was preparing to do. Sitting there in the crowded terminal, waiting to board my plane, I knew this was a terrible place to have that conversation, but she said she just wanted to talk sometime in the next few days so we set a time for me to call her when I would be back at home and she would be able to talk.
So I was surprised when a few minutes later she called again. She sounded near tears, told me she was worried that if she went through with this God would not love her, and asked me if we could pray together. My first thought, I admit, was along the lines of, oh boy what do I do now, how in the world can I pray like this? But that moment, she needed someone to pray with her. So I found a corner that was a little quieter, tried not to notice if anyone overheard and gave us funny looks, and together we prayed to a God of mercy and compassion who loves all of Her children and talked of how God would walk with us during times of difficult decisions, and would know and understand why we make the choices we do.
It was one of the stranger moments of my ministry to be sure. Not the kind of thing I had in mind when I went to seminary. But in some ways- exactly what I had in mind. How often have I heard that ministry is about being present with people where they are, when they are in need? That night- it was on a cell phone in an airport terminal.
Travel has been the word of the day for the last few weeks. November has taken me to Boise, Cleveland, Atlanta, Baltimore, Salt Lake City and Washington DC, not to mention day trips to the seminaries of Union and Princeton, in New York, and New Jersey respectively. There have been a lot of stories from the road that I hope to tell in these pages soon, one of which I already mentioned here- http://anothervoicemdf.livejournal.c
By this point, I know the security procedures that my prosthetic leg requires so well I could teach TSA newbies (and did walk one or two through it when they weren’t sure of what came next.) I can tell you the relative merits of each of the New York City airports, and where to get an amazing burrito in Terminal B of Salt Lake International. But the moments that have really stuck with me, where when I found myself talking about God.
The first was humorous, the second, poignant
I had gone to Boise to meet with local clergy and give a presentation on the role people of faith can play in the effort to make comprehensive sex education available to students throughout the country. Afterward, I went straight from the event to the airport to try and catch one of the last flights out of town, (Boise to New York, by way of Salt Lake is not the most popular route, oddly enough) and so I was still wearing my clerical collar and suit when I got to security.
That’s when the fun started.
It would appear that a man dressed as a minister, but also having long hair and an eyebrow ring is enough to raise a few eyebrows amongst the good people of the Boise TSA. So after going through the normal security screening they pulled me aside, and while one person methodically went through my bags, the other made a point of sitting off to the side and keeping up a constant stream of questions about my ministry.
Now on the one hand, I think this must be standard procedure. The person asking me questions made a point to sit opposite her colleague so that her questions made me focus on her and I couldn’t pay attention to the woman searching my bags. But the woman quizzing me focused all her questions on why I was wearing a collar- am I really a minister, what did I believe, what kind of church did I come from? My personal favorite- how could I be a man of God if I had an eyebrow ring, since, didn’t the Bible forbid “desecrating the temple of the flesh?” Those were exact words.
It became clear as we spoke that she didn’t believe I was a real minister, and so she thought must be wearing the collar to try and hide something, to try and get past security. She quizzed me, asking me my favorite book of the bible, or how I felt about a particular parable, and was visibly surprised when I not only knew what she was referring to, but could talk knowledgably on the subject.
There was a point in the conversation when it seemed she moved from suspicion to curiosity. When she was no longer making me prove that I was a real minister, a real Christian, but was instead learning about how someone could love the same Bible she did, love the same God she did, but come to such different conclusions then she did on the nature of justice and God’s love, and what we are called to do in this world.
Maybe by the end she believed I was a minister and was just being polite. Or maybe the whole thing was just because my razor or something else in my bag set something off, and she never cared one way or the other about why I was wearing a collar. But I have to say I honestly believed she was suspicious because when she saw me, I simply did not fit her idea of what a minister could be, what a Christian could be. I believe that, and that by the end of our time talking, (and by the time her colleague was satisfied I had no contraband in my bag) her idea of what it meant to be a Christian might just have expanded a little bit. If that’s not evangelism, I don’t know what is.
The other event happened a few days later. I was coming home from Cleveland, Ohio where I had done a training with an interfaith group of clergy, and I was bone tired after so much travel. I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize, and as I had a few outstanding contacts I was waiting to hear back from for work things, I decided to answer it.
But it wasn’t anyone I knew. A few weeks ago, I had done a training for counselors at a hospital that deals with second trimester abortions, a two day procedure that can be rather intense. Most of the training was on helping the counselors to handle spiritual issues that the patients might raise, but I also let them know that they could give patients my number if they needed more in depth spiritual care. The call was from a woman who had set up an appointment to have her procedure later in the week, and wanted to talk to a clergy person about some concerns she had about what she was preparing to do. Sitting there in the crowded terminal, waiting to board my plane, I knew this was a terrible place to have that conversation, but she said she just wanted to talk sometime in the next few days so we set a time for me to call her when I would be back at home and she would be able to talk.
So I was surprised when a few minutes later she called again. She sounded near tears, told me she was worried that if she went through with this God would not love her, and asked me if we could pray together. My first thought, I admit, was along the lines of, oh boy what do I do now, how in the world can I pray like this? But that moment, she needed someone to pray with her. So I found a corner that was a little quieter, tried not to notice if anyone overheard and gave us funny looks, and together we prayed to a God of mercy and compassion who loves all of Her children and talked of how God would walk with us during times of difficult decisions, and would know and understand why we make the choices we do.
It was one of the stranger moments of my ministry to be sure. Not the kind of thing I had in mind when I went to seminary. But in some ways- exactly what I had in mind. How often have I heard that ministry is about being present with people where they are, when they are in need? That night- it was on a cell phone in an airport terminal.
