A Visit to the Dentist

I had thought about entitling this post "Broadway Church in ministry." A few weeks ago I had a chat with a colleague at another church in our fair city. He told me about a program at his church that engages "every member in ministry every day." He talked, very excitedly, about the way in which people of the congregation he attends were getting involved in ministry every day, through the agency of the church. He talked about people mentoring others, about people volunteering at a school that the church has established a connection to. Pretty good things actually. But then he asked -- "wouldn't this be a great thing for Broadway?" I quickly answered, "No." And he was taken aback. "Why not," he wanted to know. "Because every person at Broadway IS ALREADY in ministry every day," I answered. "Actually, the biggest problem we have in our congregation (and in Western mainstream Protestantism I think) is a belief that ministry ONLY happens in and through the agency of the church. Real ministry is what happens in the lives and works of the people of our congregations every day -- in their homes, in their work, in their volunteerism, in their life as neighbor. The problem we have is that people think that ministry is what happens because the church asks you to do something, rather than your ministry is the way in which you live your life in all that you do."

And that brings me to a visit to my dentist. My friend. Bob Taylor. Every visit to his office is a joy. A real joy. Why? Because his work there is his ministry. Because he moves from chair to chair, from person to person - and offers himself to each person. You are very likely to hear laughter -- not only when he is at your chair, but around the room. You will also get serious conversation about important things -- if you want it. And it will be thoughtful. In difficult times you might get tears. All of these things are a prayer. A salve for the soul. Food for the spirit.

I come to the dentist -- expectantly. Not knowing what to expect -- but expecting something good and holy and rich. I can't remember what my teeth have experienced after I've been there -- but I know that I always feel better. I often come away feeling challenged -- sometime with ideas -- sometime with how I can be a better excuse for a human being myself. Sometime I come away simply in wonder and grateful for Bob and the witness of his faith through that place.

While I celebrate Bob in this piece today -- I want to say that I see this repeated over and over again -- in people in our congregation who teach. I see it in the lives of people who make their home and their table -- one that is a place of healing and laughter and good health. I see it in the lives of the musicians and artists. I see it in the lives of those who work in government taking risks and seeing the world new in how they act and the decisions they make.

And not only do I see it in the people of our congregation -- but I see it in my neighbors. I see it in the laughter of a child who as I walk by calls out "Hi, Mike" and seems genuinely happy to see me - that feeds me -- such a simple, small act. Or in the warmth of a tiny baby named Joy on my shoulder early this morning standing in the office at Broadway. Or in the conversation with a neighbor who is dreaming big dreams for their life -- and through that challenging me to dream that big for myself. Ministry abounds. And I sure am glad of it.