Amos 8:1-12; Psalm 52; Colossians 1:15-28; Luke 10:38-42
The
phone rang on Wednesday afternoon while I was meeting with Mark. I answered it and on the other end of the
line was a woman in need of financial assistance to get the power turned back on
in their home.
I told her that my resources are limited.
She persisted by telling me we were the last church she was
reaching out to and that everyone was turning her down.
I told her the needs are so great, and the resources are
limited.
In my mind and in my office were reminders of what I needed
to be doing. I needed to finish my
meeting with Mark. I needed to get back
to my computer to make things ready for Sunday.
I needed to figure out how to get a newsletter out to all of you.
I was a lot like Martha, worrying, concerned about the task
at hand.
She persisted. Even
though she didn’t yet know my name, it was like she said, “Miss Debbie, Miss Debbie. Stop and listen. What I have to say is important. You need to hear it.”
Mark walked out of my office and mouthed that he would call
me. I nodded to acknowledge him and
refocused my attention on the caller.
I hadn’t met her, but when she told me who she was, I knew
her. You see, one of her sons is the
Young Urban Gardener, who is growing fresh vegetables over on 42nd Avenue. I have received a few emails telling me about
his mission and ministry to help combat the ever-growing food desert on this
side of Indianapolis. I had been invited
to the garden but was not available to attend any of the events.
I knew that our gardener, Tate, was familiar with this
family, too. Even though I didn’t know
know her, I knew about her son and what they were trying to accomplish. And because we have the Peace Garden for the
same food insecurity-based reasons, I felt connected. If anyone understands the balance of caring
for others and trying to make sure there is enough to care for your own home
budget, or the church budget, it’s me.
I stopped and listened to what she had to say. She told me about her family and their lives
together and what the past four months have been like, trying to survive after
a job loss, finding a new job and waiting for all the background checks to be
completed before being able to actually start working. About how the spring flooding wreaked havoc
on their basement. Not once or twice,
but flooded it multiple times. About
having to rob the Peter of the electric company to pay the Paul of the water
company.
I heard her talk about her five kids and how complicated it
can be to be a single mother.
I
asked questions. I made suggestions of
where else to go for help. And I thought
about this oppressive heat wave we are having, and I became concerned for their
literal survival.
We
left that call with me having the information I needed to contact the power
company to see what was needed to restore the power in this rental home.
When I
called, what I learned made me even more concerned. The amount was large. Too large for me to take care of from my
discretionary fund, especially if I want to be able to help others and maintain
a safety net for our own parishioners.
The amount was not only large, but the power company would not turn the
power back on unless the bill was paid in full.
And the amount was larger than this mother of five knew.
I
called her back. I told her the new
amount. She broke down in tears. I fought my own. The call ended. She called again later. We talked more. I listened to her tell me more about the
family.
I
think we called one another at least six times on Wednesday. We were trying to figure out where the money
can come from. We talked about a Go Fund
Me campaign and other ways to ask for help, but she had no power and wasn’t
sure how to put an online campaign together anyway.
During
one of the calls she was telling me she was at the store, trying to find a birthday
cake for one of the daughters. She was
concerned that it would melt before Thursday.
I begged her to let me bake that cake for them. She agreed.
In my mind, I began to hatch a plan.
I made a post on Facebook asking for help. Nothing too extravagant. But why not ask? I wrote:
“I'm looking to raise $910 to help a family in need. If you are
able to help, please privately message me.
This is an all or nothing ask. If we don't come up with the total amount, none will be collected.
Thanks for your help.
This is an all or nothing ask. If we don't come up with the total amount, none will be collected.
Thanks for your help.
It's going to be
very hot in the coming days, with heat indexes over 100 degrees. This is an
urgent request.
While I have some funds in
my discretionary account, I do not have enough. Indianapolis will be hit with
extreme heat for the next few days. Can you help keep this family safe?”
There. I took a risk. I didn’t know what to expect. And I went back to work.
There
were still things that needed to get done.
I was learning how to put the newsletter together. I needed to prepare for Sunday. And somehow, even though my mind was
distracted and my time interrupted, those things were coming together.
As I
drove home that evening, I made a few decisions.
First,
I wouldn’t just bake a cake, I would make a birthday dinner. I contacted the mom to learn what her
daughter likes to eat. When I got home,
I started baking and inventing a casserole from the items in our fridge and cupboard.
I wanted
to make this something special. I might
not be able to find the money to get their power on, but I wanted to make sure
there was a birthday celebration. I
wanted to give them something joyful.
The mom was getting excited with me.
When I
went to bed that night, $170 had been pledged. There was a long way to go, but it was a good
start.
The
next day, I knew I had to get lots of things done before this birthday
party. The newsletter was top on my
list. I started writing my article, worked
on the template, got all the information inserted and scheduled it to be in
your inboxes at 7:15.
At
about four I picked up the family and brought them back to the church for the
birthday party.
The
organizer of the Thursday night AA meeting was at the church when we returned,
and I told him what was going on. He
invited me to come into their meeting and ask for help. I did.
And the group filled those baskets with donations. I counted the $237 with tears in my eyes. When I told the organizer he said, “You know Pastor,
none of us got sober alone. We all
needed help.”
And
then, you all began opening your email newsletter and the pledges started
coming in. By the time I went to bed we
were 2/3 of the way to the goal. Some of
my friends, the AA group, and many of you got us to the goal within 36 hours of
my requests. And about 49 hours after I
first spoke with this mom of five, the power was restored.
I am overwhelmed.
In the midst of all these things, I was doing my research
for this sermon. The Gospel is just one
of the stories about Martha and Mary, and I wondered how this story pertained
to what happened this week.
I realized, we all are very busy people with tasks that
have deadlines and responsibilities and expectations. Most of us are like Martha, trying to make
life as comfortable for ourselves and others as we can. And sometimes, we might get a little testy
when we think we are doing it all by ourselves.
We might feel we don’t have time for lolly-gagging and
lounging around to listen and learn.
There is work to be done, and by golly, we’re going to do it!
Then there are times we need to hear our name called by
Jesus to remind us that it is time to stop, listen, and learn so that we can
get back to doing what we are called to do and be.
When the first call came on Wednesday, I could have said, “I’m
too busy,” or “it’s too much to ask,” or “I don’t know how to help,” or “There
is no one to help me get my work done,” or “They are not one of us,” or “You
need to go back to where you came from and let them help you.”
When you started getting my messages on Facebook and in the
St. Alban’s News, you could have said, “I have my own things to worry about,”
or “I don’t have time to read the St. Alban’s News,” or “Man, Debbie’s message
is too long.”
And all of us would have missed the urgent call from Jesus.
It might have sounded like this:
“My beloveds, my beloveds, please, stop and listen to what
I have to teach you, for when you hear it, you will know how to truly follow
me. Stop being distracted. Stop being interrupted. The world is full of people with needs beyond
your understanding. They have been set
apart by society. They have been
struggling. They might need you. You might need them. Be like the Samaritan. Be compassionate. Get to know your neighbors. Listen to what they have to say. Learn from them. Learn about them. Be kind.
“My beloveds, my beloveds, you are called to not only care
for and love those closest to you, you are called to care for and love all who
God loves. Remember, you will show that
you follow me when you love as I have loved.”
And it came to me: this
is what is best.
Let us pray. God of abundance, God of love, God of
compassion, you have shown us in words and deeds what it is like to follow you
more nearly, more clearly, more closely this week. Thank you, thank you, for helping us
experience what it means to stop and listen so that we can act with compassion
and love. With Jesus as our guide, we
pray. Amen.