Tale of a Great Blessing
I write to share a joyous experience of mine from CPE. But first an assertion: this is a fabulous program here at the Duke Medical Center. There is a clear consensus here among my colleagues that the Duke CPE program is highly recommended because its intensity and structure focuses energy on the blind spots that may be obstacles in one’s ministry. All of us feel we are being formed in important ways by our CPE experience.
I am eager to report that I can finally answer positively to the first question my pastor, Michael Green, asked me when I called him up and asked him if I can could be his apprentice: “How many have you brought to Christ?” Yesterday morning Danielle Kosanovich (a fellow Dukie) asked me to handle a patient request for a chaplain visit on her floor because she was off-duty. I discovered a black youth, 20, with sickle cell anemia, filled with questions that bubbled out of the harsh life he lived on the streets of Durham. Imagine the pathos of one desperate for rescue from ‘the muck of pigs’ and you have the right idea. Our dialogue began with “Can I ask you a question?” and continued for two hours of “Just one more question?”
All this man knew of the gospel came from a ‘Left Behind Series’ movie he had seen and a portrait of a wrathful god painted by his mother as she watched him go astray. So he began with, “Is there really a Hell? Is the devil real? What about trials and tribulations? Can someone who has murdered somebody still get to heaven? If I believe in this Jesus, can I still get into the pearly gates of heaven?”
As we talked, I felt a bit of guilt about my own pride in my education. You see, this young, under-educated, street-tough, bright-eyed man quickly moved on to the tough questions with which I had struggled not too long ago. It made me realize I had unconsciously assumed that Origen’s “simple ones” included those who had walked in this man’s shoes. How foolish I was! “Was Jesus really God’s son? Was Mary really his mother? How did that happen? Did he forgive the people who killed him?” To this last, I stuttered an explanation of Jesus’ words on the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” (Luke 23:34 NKJV). Thinking I had knocked that softball out of the park, I relaxed, but then he quickly wanted to know, “So if Jesus is God, why was he praying to God? I thought he was God.” I stumbled through an explanation of the trinity somehow, without ever mentioning ‘trinity,’ ‘triune God,’ or Nicaea. That’s when I realized that the only way for me to make sense of the trinity is, relying on Gregory of Nyssa, to describe the triune God in terms of divine ‘operations.’
That explanation seemed to make a lot of sense to my new friend. But sense I had spoke of God as “Creator,” I provoked a whole new set of questions. “Was the earth really created in seven days? What about the dinosaurs? I know those are real but they are 250 million years old and God is only a few thousand years old, so how can the Bible be true?”
By this point, my friend had begun to ask about baptism. He wanted me to baptize him. That was totally unexpected. So I pulled out my handy pocket version of the Methodist Book of Worship (when you’re an ecclesial whore like I am, you can cherry pick liturgical resources without guilt!). I thought it would be handy to make sure he had an idea of what baptism meant. First I talked about the process itself. “How can you baptize me here? Don’t we have to do it in a pool to make sure it washes off all of my sin?” My low church genes kicked in. I began down the path those genes dictated, which was to suggest that the water isn’t magical, and the baptism was an outward sign of what God had already done and is doing in his heart (where did I get that? I couldn’t remember). Two things occurred to me as I said these words. First, I realized I really believe them. Second, I realized that my thoughts on baptism are counter to official Methodist doctrine. Methodists and others see more Mystery in the sacrament itself than I felt at that moment. They may be right, but when faced with the repentant heart I sensed was before me, all I could think of was that it was blood that did the washing and water that did the signifying of our holy bath. But then I looked at the man before me and realized that I had to think more carefully about baptism for him. He’s a poor black from Durham and I am an affluent white from Raleigh. I understood then that baptism for someone we expect to live beyond the hospital really needs to be done in the context of a particular community of faith who will pledge to do for the baptized what I could not realistically do for my friend - support him as he begins his journey. And that meant, for me, that I had to deliver him for baptism to a particular community of faith in which I could envision him living the rest of his life. Because I only know one church in Durham like that, one community in which there were men I know well and trust who might nurture him, I realized I could not baptize him in the Methodist way, for I need to deliver him to a baptist church. And they would need to dunk him because that’s how they do such things. So I couldn’t baptize him myself in that moment, as much as I wanted to respond to his eagerness (and my own!).
So I focused on the questions in the baptismal covenant, thinking it wise to prepare him for the questions he must be asked. That unleashed a whole flood of questions. “What is sin? What does it mean to repent of evil? Is smoking a sin? How about wine or beer?” I knew he had a habit of cocaine and weed, so I tried to hit that one ‘head on.’ But the only thing that came to mind was that God wants us to live life abundantly, and to share his good news so that others can learn to live life abundantly. And as I said that, I realized how deeply I believe that. Or rather I realized how much I believe that is true about my God in contrast with the depiction of a God whose relationship to me is that of a publisher of a list of proscribed behaviors. Wesley’s dictum about shedding love abroad bubbled to my consciousness, and nothing seemed to resonate with my friend so much as the vision of his new life of holiness, in which he would shed love abroad and used his story to steer others on to the holy path. The look on his face as he imagined that made me realize in a flesh and bones way that this gospel entrusted to us is truly the intersection of hope and holiness. We don’t have to do much more than be brave enough to share it.
I have become tight with fellow Dukie, Greg Nash. I love that man. We are a team here at the hospital. Whenever the Holy Spirit places me in an encounter with a man from the streets, I try to introduce him to Greg, because Greg has walked in those shoes in a way I never can. I want to introduce them to a positive role model, an image of a man of God so they can visualize themselves transformed. So I called Greg, and he did his thing in his own way, which I believe made the promise of the journey ahead more concrete. Greg is amazingly gifted. He immediately understood that transportation and clothing might be real obstacles for this young man that his pride might hide (a way the 'enemy' wages spiritual warfare?), so he addressed these issues head-on. A van will pick him up and deliver him to the church next Sunday.
Greg and I hope to stand by our new friend when he gets baptized (or at least joins) at Mt. Level Missionary Baptist Church on 2 July. That is, of course, the home of Drs. WC Turner, Willie Jennings, and J. Cameron Carter. I can’t imagine anyone to whom I would rather entrust my new friend and brother.
So, on this day, I praise the Lord for allowing me to witness the truth of his promise that the Holy Spirit will guide us as we seek to fulfill the Great Commission. It is a glorious thing to witness another deciding to accept Christ as king of his life. I would love to do this for the rest of my life. What a blessing! Hallelujah!
I am eager to report that I can finally answer positively to the first question my pastor, Michael Green, asked me when I called him up and asked him if I can could be his apprentice: “How many have you brought to Christ?” Yesterday morning Danielle Kosanovich (a fellow Dukie) asked me to handle a patient request for a chaplain visit on her floor because she was off-duty. I discovered a black youth, 20, with sickle cell anemia, filled with questions that bubbled out of the harsh life he lived on the streets of Durham. Imagine the pathos of one desperate for rescue from ‘the muck of pigs’ and you have the right idea. Our dialogue began with “Can I ask you a question?” and continued for two hours of “Just one more question?”
All this man knew of the gospel came from a ‘Left Behind Series’ movie he had seen and a portrait of a wrathful god painted by his mother as she watched him go astray. So he began with, “Is there really a Hell? Is the devil real? What about trials and tribulations? Can someone who has murdered somebody still get to heaven? If I believe in this Jesus, can I still get into the pearly gates of heaven?”
As we talked, I felt a bit of guilt about my own pride in my education. You see, this young, under-educated, street-tough, bright-eyed man quickly moved on to the tough questions with which I had struggled not too long ago. It made me realize I had unconsciously assumed that Origen’s “simple ones” included those who had walked in this man’s shoes. How foolish I was! “Was Jesus really God’s son? Was Mary really his mother? How did that happen? Did he forgive the people who killed him?” To this last, I stuttered an explanation of Jesus’ words on the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” (Luke 23:34 NKJV). Thinking I had knocked that softball out of the park, I relaxed, but then he quickly wanted to know, “So if Jesus is God, why was he praying to God? I thought he was God.” I stumbled through an explanation of the trinity somehow, without ever mentioning ‘trinity,’ ‘triune God,’ or Nicaea. That’s when I realized that the only way for me to make sense of the trinity is, relying on Gregory of Nyssa, to describe the triune God in terms of divine ‘operations.’
That explanation seemed to make a lot of sense to my new friend. But sense I had spoke of God as “Creator,” I provoked a whole new set of questions. “Was the earth really created in seven days? What about the dinosaurs? I know those are real but they are 250 million years old and God is only a few thousand years old, so how can the Bible be true?”
By this point, my friend had begun to ask about baptism. He wanted me to baptize him. That was totally unexpected. So I pulled out my handy pocket version of the Methodist Book of Worship (when you’re an ecclesial whore like I am, you can cherry pick liturgical resources without guilt!). I thought it would be handy to make sure he had an idea of what baptism meant. First I talked about the process itself. “How can you baptize me here? Don’t we have to do it in a pool to make sure it washes off all of my sin?” My low church genes kicked in. I began down the path those genes dictated, which was to suggest that the water isn’t magical, and the baptism was an outward sign of what God had already done and is doing in his heart (where did I get that? I couldn’t remember). Two things occurred to me as I said these words. First, I realized I really believe them. Second, I realized that my thoughts on baptism are counter to official Methodist doctrine. Methodists and others see more Mystery in the sacrament itself than I felt at that moment. They may be right, but when faced with the repentant heart I sensed was before me, all I could think of was that it was blood that did the washing and water that did the signifying of our holy bath. But then I looked at the man before me and realized that I had to think more carefully about baptism for him. He’s a poor black from Durham and I am an affluent white from Raleigh. I understood then that baptism for someone we expect to live beyond the hospital really needs to be done in the context of a particular community of faith who will pledge to do for the baptized what I could not realistically do for my friend - support him as he begins his journey. And that meant, for me, that I had to deliver him for baptism to a particular community of faith in which I could envision him living the rest of his life. Because I only know one church in Durham like that, one community in which there were men I know well and trust who might nurture him, I realized I could not baptize him in the Methodist way, for I need to deliver him to a baptist church. And they would need to dunk him because that’s how they do such things. So I couldn’t baptize him myself in that moment, as much as I wanted to respond to his eagerness (and my own!).
So I focused on the questions in the baptismal covenant, thinking it wise to prepare him for the questions he must be asked. That unleashed a whole flood of questions. “What is sin? What does it mean to repent of evil? Is smoking a sin? How about wine or beer?” I knew he had a habit of cocaine and weed, so I tried to hit that one ‘head on.’ But the only thing that came to mind was that God wants us to live life abundantly, and to share his good news so that others can learn to live life abundantly. And as I said that, I realized how deeply I believe that. Or rather I realized how much I believe that is true about my God in contrast with the depiction of a God whose relationship to me is that of a publisher of a list of proscribed behaviors. Wesley’s dictum about shedding love abroad bubbled to my consciousness, and nothing seemed to resonate with my friend so much as the vision of his new life of holiness, in which he would shed love abroad and used his story to steer others on to the holy path. The look on his face as he imagined that made me realize in a flesh and bones way that this gospel entrusted to us is truly the intersection of hope and holiness. We don’t have to do much more than be brave enough to share it.
I have become tight with fellow Dukie, Greg Nash. I love that man. We are a team here at the hospital. Whenever the Holy Spirit places me in an encounter with a man from the streets, I try to introduce him to Greg, because Greg has walked in those shoes in a way I never can. I want to introduce them to a positive role model, an image of a man of God so they can visualize themselves transformed. So I called Greg, and he did his thing in his own way, which I believe made the promise of the journey ahead more concrete. Greg is amazingly gifted. He immediately understood that transportation and clothing might be real obstacles for this young man that his pride might hide (a way the 'enemy' wages spiritual warfare?), so he addressed these issues head-on. A van will pick him up and deliver him to the church next Sunday.
Greg and I hope to stand by our new friend when he gets baptized (or at least joins) at Mt. Level Missionary Baptist Church on 2 July. That is, of course, the home of Drs. WC Turner, Willie Jennings, and J. Cameron Carter. I can’t imagine anyone to whom I would rather entrust my new friend and brother.
So, on this day, I praise the Lord for allowing me to witness the truth of his promise that the Holy Spirit will guide us as we seek to fulfill the Great Commission. It is a glorious thing to witness another deciding to accept Christ as king of his life. I would love to do this for the rest of my life. What a blessing! Hallelujah!
posted by Unknown at 11:12 AM
12 Comments:
Wow Craig. What an amazing experience. Thanks be to God.
I, of course as we have discussed, have no problem with your theology of baptism in that moment. Mine would have been almost identical.
I wonder how the training you have had in CPE to this point conflicts with or affirms the road you took with this young man?
Tom,
You ask an interesting question. I think it is now more clear to me that "training" sometimes consists of forging an identity by helping one define who one is more clearly through encountering what one is not. And thus, my training in CPE has consisted in large part of making me a huge fan of Sam Wells and Hauerwas, over against the theological biases of CPE. I refer here to the individualistic, two kingdoms (hospital & church), apolegetic, 'gospel as the golden rule' retreat that pervades the thinking of many in the chaplaincy. The retreat, by the way, is into the behavioral sciences. So my training has led me to define myself pastorally against that approach, and developed in me a style that is very much a bold and transparent advocacy of the church's healing role.
Yesterday I held the hand of a dying black woman of 80 years and sang "Amazing Grace" with her as loud as her weak voice could sing it. My face was close to hers and both of us cried. The last verse we simply sang "Praise God" the entire verse because a stroke had affected her memory.
From Sam Wells I learned that tapping into those ecclesial habits of her youth would be the best way for me to bring her comfort - the best way for me to help her locate herself as a child of God and thereby experience the spiritual healing that brings. And I am convinced that Sam is right. And I also am convinced that the nurses who witnessed our singing were ecclesially formed, too. CPE teaches us to focus on just the patient and family, which I believe is fallacious, because all the bystanders are affected by witnessing the church's retreat or advance.
There are colleagues and supervisors who would challenge my approach because I may be a bit more prescriptive than they imagine is appropriate, or because they would prefer the more 'listen & reflect' approaches championed in psychology,(whereas I try to tap into their habits of prayer, scripture reading, and hymn singing), but CPE is designed in such a way that they allow me to pursue my approach as long as I can show it is consistent with my emerging pastoral identity and as long as I don't do harm. My discussion would be judged with those criteria. I really don't know what the result of that judgment would be. But I imagine it would be mostly supportive of my actions. I hope that answers your insightful question...
A quick quote from Willimon's "Pastor" from his chapter on Pastoral Care:
“The New Testament word for ‘compassion’…is the same word for ‘guts.’ There is no way to be a truly compassionate pastor without being a truthful, gutsy prophet” (97).
Tom
Amen!
You forget that methodists don't have a doctrine, we have a discipline. A distinction which leaves room for them not to be declared "others" in your theology of baptism. And even then, in the Standard Catechism, a Methodist document published in 1929, Q:"what does baptism signify?"
A:"It is not only a sign of profession and a mark of difference, whereby Christians are distinguished from others that are not baptized; but it is also a sign of regeneration and new birth."You practically quote Richard Hooker with the "outward sign" bit, so Anglicans shouldn't be in your "others" as well. Eastern and Western Catholics are the only ones who have a doctrine of the ontological significance of the sacraments as mystery. While I might personally lament that, the ecclesial bodies of the "Methodists and others" do not and 80% of which would explain baptism in the same way you did.
And I don't mean to be a hater, I think your experience is fantastic and praise God for it, but I think your ecclesial whoredom breeds a contrarianism towards particular traditions that isn't there.
Perhaps the great tragedy in it all is that you are not from a community of faith that you can envision supporting the boy.
Wilson,
Good catch on that last thought (about Criag not seeing himself as part of a community that could nurture this boy...Though I think Craig put the young man in good hands). I had completely overlooked that. Thus proving the value of community reflection.
My dear Wilson,
I must confess that your post took my breath away. I never imagined that my sharing of a joyful event in my life could be received as you evidently have received it. Indeed, I was so surprised by what I read that when I encountered Tom McL in the library, I was please to hear that he had an interpretation of your entire post that was much less centered on me and much more centered on our shared tragedy. We agreed that you were truly insightful to observe that, were the church less divided and more faithful, there would be no real racial divide in our community. But the King seems to have heard the same uncharitable focus on me that I feared was the intent of your post. And if the king is right on that, then something is wrong.
Let me first apologize to you and others if I have offended by my evident failure to show due respect to the United Methodist Church in my story or in our previous dealings. From your comments about Tony’s visioning document, everyone else’s language, and your response to my story, I infer that criticism of the church in which we both grew up now strikes a raw nerve within you. I understand that and regret any comments that may have struck that nerve. I ask for forgiveness.
I suggest we do a bit of research on the question of whether Methodists have “doctrine.” I note that the section (Sect 103, p. 59) that covers baptism within the 2004 Book of Discipline is entitled “Our Doctrinal Standards and General Rules.” I also report that the reason I tried to acknowledge my variance from official Methodist doctrine - a fact you did not know until now - is that my supervisor, a UMC elder, challenged me on that when I told her the story. She said my thinking was not in keeping with “official doctrine.” On the other hand, I acknowledge that the UMC traditionally prefers unity in heart over orthopraxy. I am glad you feel that most would agree with my own thinking.
I regret that you are agitated by what you call my unfounded contrariness. I will try to be less contrary and more vocal about the things I love about my Methodist upbringing. I think that perhaps Tom Arthur, Derek, and Thomas have heard me better on this and can attest to my love of our shared Wesleyan heritage. Perhaps the fact that I carry with me all day long a Methodist Book of Worship and a Methodist Hymnal says something that you missed?
As for your concern about the “tragedy” of my not belonging to a community of faith, etc...I trust that judgment of me results only from the hurt I have caused you by criticizing our shared heritage. It happens that I do belong to a community of faith that I treasure here in Raleigh. However, I do not believe it is well placed to serve a new disciple in Durham. But that may be beside the point, because we disagree on the merits of denominationalism. It is certainly a wonderful thing to be loyal to your denomination. However, I assert that it is precisely my ‘ecclesial whoredom’ that you satirize that enables me to be open to seeking the particular community that best fits our new brother’s needs and reality, especially given the fact that we live in different cities. Denominational allegiance is not always the way of love.
To choose any other way would be truly tragic.
Craig,
I'm not sure you read my response quite right. The way you described your conversation with Tom M. is more the flavor of what I was thinking. I had not thought of the geographical obstacles to your particular faith community discipling this young man, though. I was thinking that you meant that your church would not "fit" this young man's needs. Whether those were his ethnic needs, or otherwise. Its kind of sad to have to admit that one's particular church is not a right "fit" for someone. But this is the case more often than I would like to admit. And I have been in situations where I have suggested that someone might find a form of discipleship at another church in the community more...more what? I'm having a hard time filling in that blank without coming across consumerisitc.
Tom
P.S. I didn't read Wilson's email quite as antagonistic as it sounded that you did. If it was, I suspect it was antagonistic in all the postive ways that Socratic Club lets us be assertive with one another.
Ah my friend Craig, I must apologize for my poor wording and direction. For you see, response was directly mostly towards le provocateur Hauerwas, whom I believe you at one point said you took the title ecclesial whore. As I said, I thank God for your experience, and all of this has been written with an attempt at the utmost of charity.
The tragedy has nothing to do with you, but with the broken Church, with the broken cities, and broken hospitals. I think the Methodists are a broken church, I don't give a rat's tongue about denominational loyalty beyond the substance of the tradition, and if I was in the same position as you, I pray that I would have the wisdom to send him Mt Level.
Now that I hope you see my intentions for what they are, I would like to expand a little more on my concern with ecclesial whoredom. And I don't mean mild derision or denominationalism. Like Wainwright, if I could wake up tomorrow and there was no Methodist Church because we were in full communion with Rome and Constantinople, I would jump for joy and praise the Lord. But, as I said in my first comment, I think ecclesial whoredom breeds a contrarianism that isn't there, because it wants to be provocative. Often for good reason, but usually substantively hollow. But while that may caricature your position quite obscenely, my real issue is that it breeds an "us vs. them" mentality within the Church. As you positioned "Methodists and others" and then later in your response to me, "denominational allegiance", which you represent as counter to your position of ecclesial whoredom. It is this “us vs. them” that I was writing against, and as I said, it was mostly against Hauerwas and had nothing to do with your experience. I just wanted to take this opportunity to address it in all of the positive Socratic ways, as King Arthur said.
Wow this is long, one more thing. The last bit is that I have felt that the Methodist identity at Duke is nearly absent and that that is a sad thing and so I felt that I should try and begin to defend and support it as I could. For all these reasons I responded, and yet nevertheless, I hope that I could be as faithful as you if the situation presented itself.
Ah Wilson! Thanks for the clarification. Peace, peace. Perhaps my whoredom is rooted in the same angst about missing Methodism that motivates your resolve to take a stand. I am glad to learn that you mistook me for Hauerwas, or at least considered us kin. I must confess that your battle against ecclesial whoredom confounds me. I haven't gone far enough in my study of Hauerwas to understand your concerns about substantive hollowness. From my novice perspective, he seems pretty solid. I'll trust your learned opinion on that. But how can I be redeemed? How can a whore become faithful? I don't want to be a hollow whore no more!
Craig,
While I'm not entirely sure that I'm supposed to be on this blog, I very much appreciated your story and I rejoice with you and this new believer. I am scared to death of doing CPE, which probably means that I must do it at some point. I esp like this bit in the comments about defining your ministry over against the ways that CPE teaches you to... I have been enjoying sitting in Hebrew class and watching Drs. Hauerwas and Wells walk across the quad together returning to the div school, presumably from the gym :) Thanks for sharing. I didn't realize you were doing CPE this summer along with Lauren and Katherina!
--Peace--
Sarah Kerr
Sarah,
I am so glad you have joined us. Of course you are welcome! I hope you will join in and come to our meetings this fall, too!
Yes, I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know Katharina and Lauren. The same is true for classmate Danielle Kosanovitch and seniors Sanford Groff and Greg Nash. We also have one recent Duke grad, Valerie, our only presbyterian.
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