Monday Morning Musing: 50 Days of Gratitude, Days 8 & 9

(The parameters of this host site prevent me from sending out daily Gratitude emails in this season of keeping this rhythm. I post them daily on my Substack account, which you can find here: https://substack.com/@stillhotunderthecollar. I also post a link to them daily on my Facebook page.)

When candidates are preparing for ministry in the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) we go to seminary, which is a professional graduate school, and at the same time (usually) we make our way through a candidacy process.  That process involves a series of interviews and essays and retreats as well as a three-day psychological evaluation.  And still, some of us slip through.  (Smiling, here).

And in the course of just one normal day in ministry we use some of what we learned through all of that and we encounter many, many things we didn’t learn in the classroom or the boardroom (or at those retreats, probably at a church camp).  

I once had a parishioner bring me a loaded handgun and a baggie of weed (not at my current call and I’m not saying at which call) and ask me to ‘do the right thing with them’.  Having no idea what that was, I called my local police precinct who sent two helpful officers out to lend a hand.  They were laughing until they discovered that the handgun was fully loaded.  

I’ve helped abused women get away from their abusers.  I’ve promised a dying woman that I would get the rotting green beans out of the produce bin at her house.  I’ve been a character reference in court.  I’ve unclogged toilets and once I was alone in the building while we were burgled.  The culprits could see me through the interior window to the office admin’s office, but I locked the door, because that just seemed like the right thing to do.  The list goes on. 

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  Because in the midst of those unplanned things are other holy moments.  Holding the hands of the dying and of the parents who are cradling their newborns.  Delivering poinsettias and easter lilies to people who can no longer get to church. Passing out popsicles on the first day of school.  Going to the county fair to watch my kids 4-H animals being judged (don’t ask what they do with the pigs and cows afterward!)  Just the other day I got to share Eucharist with a woman who no longer speaks much more than what her devoted spouse calls “word salad”.  But when we finished our tiny wafer and little bit of wine, the three of us sang Jesus Loves Me and she sang every word.  I will never forget the time that the choir sang an arrangement of “We Shall Overcome” and I looked out and the wise elders in the congregation had their fists raised in hope and in resistance to the forces of evil in the world.  Or the time I preached barefoot about how Moses took off his shoes because it was holy ground and then every single person came to communion sans shoes.  I love being a pastor.  Even when it’s hard. 

Yesterday was one of those hard days.  Oh, let’s face it, there have been more than a few hard days lately.  But yesterday I stood with a beloved child of God who is being mistreated and harassed because of the very unique person she is.  With tears in her eyes she described her situation, which includes being without adequate housing.  There is just no help for us, she cried.  And I felt helpless right along with her.  

Ironically, seven years ago yesterday was the opening of Compass Broadview, 59 units of permanent, affordable housing for families built on the former parking lot of Luther Memorial Lutheran Church in Seattle, where I was the pastor.  These faithful, dear people of God gave up so much that they held dear: a fellowship hall and a kitchen and a large parking lot (which is like GOLD in Seattle) so that those in need could have safe housing.  In partnership with Compass Housing Alliance and Bellweather Housing, they endured months and months of construction and the challenge of changing the very culture of the space they occupied there in North Seattle.  It was a glorious day and I remember it well, when we welcomed those first families to their new homes.  And we could build it because Compass Housing Alliance knows how to do this.  They knew how to find funding, a good chunk of which was through federal programs that no longer exist because we no longer care about the people God calls us to care for.  The poor.  The immigrant.  The widows and orphans (ask me how I know).  Somehow, the farther downtrodden you are, the more likely it is that you will be taken advantage of. 

But today, because of a faithful congregation willing to take risks for the sake of their neighbors and because of federal, state, and local funding fifty nine families have stable housing.  Compass Housing is still doing this work, although with the reduction in available funding, it has changed.  You can read more about Compass Broadview and CHA here.  

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about ministry and the call of the Holy Spirit on the lives of those she sends out to do this work.  There are so many things I didn't anticipate and couldn’t have prepared for and there are so many things that break my heart. But there are so many things I’m deeply grateful for.  The chance to be a part of helping families have safe and stable housing is one of them.  Happy Anniversary, Compass Broadview.  

I am grateful.  

At the grand opening of Compass Broadview