Memorable Ministry Moments (or Mmm)...

There are occasional moments in ministry that stay with you forever. Most are like Pastor Paul's lunch with Jake as told below or other special times when you see God's power and work around you. Some memorable ministry moments, however, fall into the category of the truly bizarre. This morning, I found a printed letter taped to my office door. On the letter was a post-it note. I recognized Pastor Todd's hand writing and chuckled to myself as I read. It said:

Please Read! You need to understand the aliens are coming! The Right Reverend Apostle ____ ____ (name withheld) came by to tell me so. Be glad you are off on Thursdays or you too would know about the aliens and Hitler. It is a heavy burden to bear. But on the bright side, I will be a king someday!

Todd's tongue in cheek note tells me all I need to know. He patiently listened as some fellow off the street preached his own brand of the gospel message. I read the two page letter. It's a rambling mix of scripture references, urban legend, science fiction and off the wall interpretations. I can only imagine the conversation. It saddens me for people like this. They are trapped in a fog of falsehood. But it also reminds me of a humorous story from my own past.

In the 90's I served a church in the small town of Cave City, Kentucky. Population 2500, give or take. The name comes from the many caves that are in that part of the world, and it's near Mammoth Cave National Park. The town had one traffic light and was located on a major state two lane highway and just off the Interstate that runs parallel. Actually, if you count the interchange there were three traffic lights, but only one was in town. It was a typical small town. Railroad track, bandstand, post office and one church of each denomination. One Methodist, one Christian, one Church of Christ, one Baptist and even one Catholic. It was appropriately named "Our Lady of the Caves".

Our pastor was a patient, wise man with a dry sense of humor. I was a young minister, and many times he would step in with the correct answer to a problem. Often I would ask, "How did you know that?" to which he would reply, "I'm the senior pastor." Other times it was "Because I'm the senior pastor", but we won't go into that.

Most churches have the occasional drop in person needing help. Because of our location we encountered more travelers than local people. They would come in and share strikingly similar stories, and we would attempt to help them while being good stewards. Many times I felt good about helping. The stranded motorist, the local family in need or even the traveler needing to talk. I took a lot of people to Dairy Queen for a meal and even put a few in the local motel for the night.

I remember quite a few needing gas who said they were traveling from this state to that looking for work. I was always suspicious of that story, but felt my job was to show Christ's love and let God work on their hearts. However, there was once a fellow who said he was driving from Virginia to Texas. I didn't have to look at my map. Everybody knows that driving from Virginia to Texas takes you through Tennessee not Kentucky. I felt peace about it and said, "You're lost." It was one of the few times I sent someone away without giving them something.

One of the most memorable ministry moments (mmmm) happened toward the end of my time in Cave City. The Pastor was sitting in the outer office talking with the copier repair man. I was walking down the hall and heard the familiar click of the outside door handle. As I entered the main foyer outside the office, I glanced toward the main entrance to see who was coming in. Do you remember the old man from the comic strips with the white hair and long white beard wearing a robe and carrying a big sign on a stick the says, "The End is Near"? Well, he came to our church.

He was coming through the inner door struggling with a back pack and his sign. Still in stride, I turned into the office, said to the pastor, "This one's yours" and went into my office and closed the door. About 30 minutes later I came out to find my pastor wrapping up the conversation as the man was leaving. He told me it was one of those strange ramblings about God and things that leave you convinced the man is missing a few fries from his Happy Meal. Then he stopped and looked me in the eye and asked, "Why do you always give me the hard ones?"

I smiled and said simply, "Because you're the senior pastor."