As a very young pastor I attended a national pastor's conference designed to support pastors whose churches are located in the inner city. I was expectant, excited and full of zeal. The first year was a life changing event for me. I was able to meet and hear a message from a pastor that I greatly admired. Pastor E.V. Hill whose approach to preaching had deeply influenced my own was a guest speaker. The entire weekend was a magnificent experience for me. I wept the entire time as the LORD did so many wonderful things in my heart and life.
What a difference a year makes. The following year I attended the same conference. This time a discouraged, depressed, tired and sick pastor attended the conference. I declined to attend with friends this time; preferring to travel alone so I could think, meditate and pray. I could also be there without the distraction of my friend's desire to shop, sight see or visit friends.
I kept asking GOD to please make sure someone was there to minister to me. I needed support. At the time my denomination had no routine means to support, train or counsel pastors or ministers on the local level. There was an annual conference but you could die of spiritual thirst waiting on that yearly meeting. My whole prayer was for the LORD to arrange for someone to minister to me.
I arrived at the first meeting on time but not in time to get a preferable seat. As I stood surveying the building an usher approached me and escorted me to the front of the congregation; first row; right side of the church. As I took my seat, I noticed a rubenesque, woman with a pleasant demeanor and a perm that needed a touch up desperately. The most remarkable thing about this woman was the fact that she was wearing a shift. For those of you too young to know, a shift was a house dress with no sleeves and a simple wrap-style or plain buttoned down front. These dresses were typically worn around the house as one cleaned, cooked or enjoyed leisure time. I immediately thought; "Who is this lady in this great big ol' meeting in a house dress?" She smiled as I took my seat directly in front of her. At some point during the service I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and heard indiscernible words in a clear pattern of fervent prayer. Someone was praying for me. I turned to see it was the lady in the house dress. After the service this lady made a point of speaking to me and asked my name. That evening in my hotel room, I prayed with tears for the LORD to send someone to me to encourage me, give me a "word" or some sign that He was still with me in this role of pastor. I suppose I wanted one of the internationally famous pastors to recognize my need and say something that would transform my life and ministry. Didn't happen.
The next day I was again led to my seat by an usher. I was seated this time directly in back of the lady with the bad perm. She was wearing another house dress. In this morning session. The speaker encouraged the people to share prayer needs with those around them. Immediately the house dress lady turned to me and she took my hands and asked what I would like to pray about. I couldn't even speak. I closed my eyes and just froze. The tears seeped through my closed lids as I tried to formulate words that could explain my needs to this stranger. She began to pray. Her prayer addressed the needs of my life. Her prayer was a balm for my pain and disillusionment. I also prayed for her and we embraced. The following day I was seated before her and she sought me out. As we began to talk, I realized that it was through this very different lady (at least from my perspective) that GOD has answered my prayer for someone to minister to me. My expectation was entirely different; foolish, limited and bigoted. In my interactions with that lady and her very real compassion for me that I saw very clearly the beauty of Jesus. Through this woman of GOD my soul was lifted and I was hopeful and refreshed in the Holy Spirit. GOD used this white woman from New York to bless a black man from Boston. In doing so he addressed a bias I had regarding clothing and judging the value of people based on appearance. Through this experience He also revealed the limited view I had of the sources of the grace of GOD.
Another instance of GOD correcting biases and false expectations was my reluctant attendance to a three day conference at a catholic conference site by a beautiful lake in Massachusetts. I initially resisted the invitation because, well.... they were catholic. I had visions of statues, Mary veneration, smoke and rosary beads. My friend assured me that the meeting was multi-denominational and was not strictly catholic but I didn't want to take the risk. I never really made up my mind to go until I was actually in the car heading towards the southern part of Massachusetts with the friend that invited and eventually demanded that I attend. Too late to change my mind, I wondered as I peered over my sunglasses peripherally at my excited friend. Yeah, too late came the response from my conscience and we careened on to the "reluctant weekend".
The first hour of this new experience was extremely uncomfortable. No one there looked like me. I was the speck in the cup of milk as we say in my collective community. A colloquial reference to being the only Black/African American in a roomful of White folk. Some of the songs that were sung I knew, the scripture references were familiar, of course. I was surprised to see that during free time that was allotted for the prisoners, oops, I mean, participants to get to know one another there were more than a couple of people who were smoking cigarettes. I thought: "Don't these heathens know they are in a church function on a church site for a spiritual retreat?"
As soon as my thought was complete one of this ill-informed people walked up to me with cigarette in mouth uttering a greeting. I pretended not to understand what I had heard in order to signal to him that he should remove the offensive sign of his spiritual immaturity. We then introduced ourselves. During this little get-to-know-you attempt the man claims that he has a "word from the LORD" for me. My mind immediately put up a barrier! "You ain't got no word for me with that cigarette hanging out of your mouth brother!, was my initial thought. He immediately began to speak of things that he could certainly not know about me from a very brief introduction. It soon became clear to me that the LORD was using this man to encourage me abut the weekend. The unlikely prophet also foretold some things that came to pass in my life. Hmmmmm.
I believe Elijah, the prophet also had a similar experience as recorded in scripture . He is running from the death threat issued to him by Jezebel the Queen and wife of Ahab the wicked king of Israel. He eventually ends up depressed, hiding in a cave with a warped perception of his ministry and whom the LORD was using. Elijah's ministry was one that was accompanied by signs and wonders. Just before the death threat he called down fire from Heaven in a battle between the Priests of Baal and the Prophets of the LORD. We find Elijah in the cave having an expectation of GOD's presence in his life to be like it always was. There was a lightening storm, an earth quake and a hurricane while Elijah was in the cave. The Bible says each time one of those great events happened Elijah went to the mouth of the cave and expected to hear GOD's voice; like he always did, in the great wonders. GOD was not in any of those experiences. It wasn't until a gentle breeze came by the cave that Elijah finally heard the LORD's voice. When he heard the voice of GOD it put in perspective his misperception of who was being used by GOD. ("I alone am left as a servant of Jehovah! 1 Kings 18:22, 19:10"). I think also, it must have broadened the vision of Elijah's ministry. He found out there were 7 thousand other faithful people still serving the LORD! In the direction recieved he was given instruction concerning his nation, another nation and the next generation; his mentor, Elisha.
Being open to the Sovereignty of GOD is somethimes a hard thing to do. He keeps switching things up. Just when you think you 've got HIM in a box he breaks the box and your perceptions. He does this so you can trust in HIM and not methods, and what worked "the last time." Our relationship with the LORD keeps unfolding. Sometimes that is very uncomfortable. It continues to be revelatory and expanding to our hearts and experiences. I continue to try to be open to the way the LORD wants me to take. I try to learn from the people he places in my path; though sometimes I feel like some of them are just in my way. (Smile) The experiences I had with the lady in the house dress and the smoking prophet enlarged my understanding of the Body of Christ. They also opened my heart to those who were not like me. I'm also learning HIS ways are not my ways! I'm in a learning mode and the lesson is making me exactly who my Heavenly Father wants me to be and with that I am comfortable.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
I MISS YOU CLARICE
I Miss my friend Clarice. Clarice Winbush Thousand. I can see her now. Tall, stately, a mess of silver hair worn as a crown, mouth open, smiling, or talking or fussing or praying or getting somebody told. Clarice was my friend. In many ways a role model, a mentor and a confidante. She was a mother and a big sister to me. I met Clarice Thousand 21 years ago. I was introduced to her on the phone. We spoke briefly and made a time and date to meet and visit a church in Western, Massachusetts. I didn't know what I was in for. Clarice was funny and comfortable to be around. She immediately started calling me Jim. I hate that nickname. I never allow anyone to call me that.....ever. I can't explain why but I allowed my new friend to call me......"Jim", ugh!
Clarice was, er... um, how can I say this...? Oh, okay, she was bossy; with a capital B. Initially, this proved volatile. I can be quite ah, um, directive, myself and not at all inclined to be told what to do. In the early stages of the development of our friendship we had many arguments. We argued about scripture, people we knew in common, social issues, religious beliefs and the time of the day. It was a part of our dynamic. She liked to argue and so did I. The hard part was that neither one of us wanted to be wrong. This eventuated several phone call hang ups and mutual bad tastes in respective mouths. Funny thing though we always came back to each other in love and mutual respect. I respected Clarice and she respected me.
Clarice and I were not close in age. Clarice was the same age as my deceased mother. In fact, My mother, Mary and Clarice had a similar vocal cadence. It felt familiar. Clarice had a habit of talking so long when she was making her point that she ran out of breath on the last few words and had to force them out. She and I had a simpatico that I am sure few understood. I started calling her "Motherfriend" and she started calling me her son. She also embraced my family. She became friends with Lynette. They had many tearful conversations about life as women in the ministry. Clarice was a great encourager to Lynette or "Annette" as she sometimes called her. She always inquired about my children and I inquired about her son, Jason.
Clarice was a real evangelist. I know this. Clarice never went anywhere without telling somebody that Jesus loved them. She did it by showing love. Clarice loved the people on the street. As she told me, one of the great frustrations of her life was her belief that the church had failed to reach out to the common person on the street. I had visited Clarice's home many times and observed her interactions with the residents of her very large apartment building. Clarice appeared to be the building chaplain and minister-at-large. She was the resource lady, the sunshine lady, the building counselor and the building mother and grandmother.
I had several hospitalizations over the years when she visited me and took over the care of her son by giving directions to the nurses and several doctors. If questioned, she replied with haught and clipped speech; "I am a retired nurse...when will you have this done?" It was too funny to watch her in action. Once while in the rehabilitation hospital in Cambridge, the city of Clarice's residence, I was on heavy pain medication. I tried all morning to pray but kept falling asleep. I couldn't gather my thoughts to pray. Lying flat on my back, the tears of frustration and pain ran down the sides of my face and disappeared into wet spots behind my ears. "LORD, I'm trying to pray and I can't. I'm trying to get to you and I can't , please help me." I drifted off to sleep. I was awakened by Clarice coming in to my room with gifts. She brought books, diabetic candy, tapes, and a portable communion set. She told me that she had planned to come and see me the following day but that GOD spoke to her and told her to come that day. Clarice was my intercessor that day. She prayed in my stead and then prayed for me. She served me communion and chastised the nurses for leaving me on my back for so long. Just what I needed.
When Clarice was hospitalized with a very serious block in her carotid artery I visited her the evening before the surgery. I brought her a book by her favorite author, Max Lucado, a card and some flowers. We talked and prayed and sang praise songs in her hospital room. I asked her if she was scared and she acknowledged some fear. We prayed together again. Clarice sent me home with , "I'll see you in the morning!" I worried all night whether she meant that in the literal sense or in the sense that so many faithful believers in Christ have used that phrase. I worried that I may have seen Clarice for the last time. I prayed for her and I cried at the thought of losing my close friend. Clarice pulled through and recovered. I later told her of my concern over her final words to me. We laughed and breathed a sigh of release that GOD had answered both of our prayers and the prayers of so many more her knew and loved Reverend Thousand, as she was known.
Clarice loved crafts. She loved to decorate and make things for people. She made baskets for special days and got joy out of making people happy. The year before she died I made a commitment to give Clarice money for gasoline for her car. Gas was expensive and she loved to drive and she deeply valued her independence. Clarice chastised me by telling me I didn't need to give her money so often. I told Clarice she was not in charge of my benevolence choices and to shut up and take the money. She smiled and we embraced, laughed and caught on on things, advised and encouraged one another. In her later years Clarice became a true source of encouragement. She visited my church, preached in my stead during illness, gave me her observations, and advised me wisely.
In the last few months of her life I became very aware that Clarice was not well. She was again hospitalized for retention of fluid. I questioned her about her kidney function since we were both diabetic. Clarice down played the correlation between her hospitalization and her kidney function to me. Deep in my heart I knew something was wrong but I wanted to believe otherwise; so I did. Soon after that, I saw Motherfriend in my office at my work place. Her countenance was very dark, her gait was unsteady and she seemed to struggle for breath. Again, I asked Clarice if she was really alright. She proclaimed her belief in GOD as a healer and tried to allay my concerns. She was not successful. I presented to Clarice the gift I had called her to receive. It was a large basket of items I had handmade especially for her. Much of it was in her favorite scent; Lavender. Clarice was so excited to receive the gift and the other little surprises tucked inside. Again, we talked for a very long time and we parted as always; embracing and professing our mutual love. Before she left she told me I needed to lose some weight. "I'm gonna tell Lynette not to even mess with you until you lose that belly!" She fell out laughing and walked down the hallway. That was the last time I saw Clarice. Lynette and I called her on her birthday and sang to her but I never heard from her again. I saw her again at her funeral but it really wasn't her. No animation, no humorous commentary. Even though it was Clarice's service. She was not in there; except in the hearts of those not as as those without hope. I am confident that I will see her again.
Clarice brought many things to my life and I hope I did the same. She once said to me, "Jim, that's why I like talking to you, I can be real with you and I know you won't judge me". Clarice gave me the same thing. Unconditional friendship. Love. In several conversations I had with people who with with Clarice in the final moments of her life I was told that in her semi-conscious state Clarice repeated these words: "Love is a verb, it's an action word. " I smiled at the recollection of these words. I'd heard Clarice say these words many times befoire. I recognized them as her own.
'Bye, Clarice..... I miss you Motherfriend. I'll see you in the morning.
Love,
Jim
Clarice was, er... um, how can I say this...? Oh, okay, she was bossy; with a capital B. Initially, this proved volatile. I can be quite ah, um, directive, myself and not at all inclined to be told what to do. In the early stages of the development of our friendship we had many arguments. We argued about scripture, people we knew in common, social issues, religious beliefs and the time of the day. It was a part of our dynamic. She liked to argue and so did I. The hard part was that neither one of us wanted to be wrong. This eventuated several phone call hang ups and mutual bad tastes in respective mouths. Funny thing though we always came back to each other in love and mutual respect. I respected Clarice and she respected me.
Clarice and I were not close in age. Clarice was the same age as my deceased mother. In fact, My mother, Mary and Clarice had a similar vocal cadence. It felt familiar. Clarice had a habit of talking so long when she was making her point that she ran out of breath on the last few words and had to force them out. She and I had a simpatico that I am sure few understood. I started calling her "Motherfriend" and she started calling me her son. She also embraced my family. She became friends with Lynette. They had many tearful conversations about life as women in the ministry. Clarice was a great encourager to Lynette or "Annette" as she sometimes called her. She always inquired about my children and I inquired about her son, Jason.
Clarice was a real evangelist. I know this. Clarice never went anywhere without telling somebody that Jesus loved them. She did it by showing love. Clarice loved the people on the street. As she told me, one of the great frustrations of her life was her belief that the church had failed to reach out to the common person on the street. I had visited Clarice's home many times and observed her interactions with the residents of her very large apartment building. Clarice appeared to be the building chaplain and minister-at-large. She was the resource lady, the sunshine lady, the building counselor and the building mother and grandmother.
I had several hospitalizations over the years when she visited me and took over the care of her son by giving directions to the nurses and several doctors. If questioned, she replied with haught and clipped speech; "I am a retired nurse...when will you have this done?" It was too funny to watch her in action. Once while in the rehabilitation hospital in Cambridge, the city of Clarice's residence, I was on heavy pain medication. I tried all morning to pray but kept falling asleep. I couldn't gather my thoughts to pray. Lying flat on my back, the tears of frustration and pain ran down the sides of my face and disappeared into wet spots behind my ears. "LORD, I'm trying to pray and I can't. I'm trying to get to you and I can't , please help me." I drifted off to sleep. I was awakened by Clarice coming in to my room with gifts. She brought books, diabetic candy, tapes, and a portable communion set. She told me that she had planned to come and see me the following day but that GOD spoke to her and told her to come that day. Clarice was my intercessor that day. She prayed in my stead and then prayed for me. She served me communion and chastised the nurses for leaving me on my back for so long. Just what I needed.
When Clarice was hospitalized with a very serious block in her carotid artery I visited her the evening before the surgery. I brought her a book by her favorite author, Max Lucado, a card and some flowers. We talked and prayed and sang praise songs in her hospital room. I asked her if she was scared and she acknowledged some fear. We prayed together again. Clarice sent me home with , "I'll see you in the morning!" I worried all night whether she meant that in the literal sense or in the sense that so many faithful believers in Christ have used that phrase. I worried that I may have seen Clarice for the last time. I prayed for her and I cried at the thought of losing my close friend. Clarice pulled through and recovered. I later told her of my concern over her final words to me. We laughed and breathed a sigh of release that GOD had answered both of our prayers and the prayers of so many more her knew and loved Reverend Thousand, as she was known.
Clarice loved crafts. She loved to decorate and make things for people. She made baskets for special days and got joy out of making people happy. The year before she died I made a commitment to give Clarice money for gasoline for her car. Gas was expensive and she loved to drive and she deeply valued her independence. Clarice chastised me by telling me I didn't need to give her money so often. I told Clarice she was not in charge of my benevolence choices and to shut up and take the money. She smiled and we embraced, laughed and caught on on things, advised and encouraged one another. In her later years Clarice became a true source of encouragement. She visited my church, preached in my stead during illness, gave me her observations, and advised me wisely.
In the last few months of her life I became very aware that Clarice was not well. She was again hospitalized for retention of fluid. I questioned her about her kidney function since we were both diabetic. Clarice down played the correlation between her hospitalization and her kidney function to me. Deep in my heart I knew something was wrong but I wanted to believe otherwise; so I did. Soon after that, I saw Motherfriend in my office at my work place. Her countenance was very dark, her gait was unsteady and she seemed to struggle for breath. Again, I asked Clarice if she was really alright. She proclaimed her belief in GOD as a healer and tried to allay my concerns. She was not successful. I presented to Clarice the gift I had called her to receive. It was a large basket of items I had handmade especially for her. Much of it was in her favorite scent; Lavender. Clarice was so excited to receive the gift and the other little surprises tucked inside. Again, we talked for a very long time and we parted as always; embracing and professing our mutual love. Before she left she told me I needed to lose some weight. "I'm gonna tell Lynette not to even mess with you until you lose that belly!" She fell out laughing and walked down the hallway. That was the last time I saw Clarice. Lynette and I called her on her birthday and sang to her but I never heard from her again. I saw her again at her funeral but it really wasn't her. No animation, no humorous commentary. Even though it was Clarice's service. She was not in there; except in the hearts of those not as as those without hope. I am confident that I will see her again.
Clarice brought many things to my life and I hope I did the same. She once said to me, "Jim, that's why I like talking to you, I can be real with you and I know you won't judge me". Clarice gave me the same thing. Unconditional friendship. Love. In several conversations I had with people who with with Clarice in the final moments of her life I was told that in her semi-conscious state Clarice repeated these words: "Love is a verb, it's an action word. " I smiled at the recollection of these words. I'd heard Clarice say these words many times befoire. I recognized them as her own.
'Bye, Clarice..... I miss you Motherfriend. I'll see you in the morning.
Love,
Jim
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