Nourishing, Chocolately Encouragement

I recently returned from the second annual New England Christian Writers' Retreat (find them on Facebook at New England Christian Writers Retreat to learn of future events) in Plainfield, NH. Surrounded by the colorful foliage, I even found myself crossing one of New Hampshire's famous covered bridges. Singing Hills Conference Center is (seemingly) in the middle of beautiful Nowhere, the perfect setting for quiet creativity, refreshing encouragement, and snack-fueled fellowship. We alums were returning for more of what we'd first tasted last year. Invited by the organizers to serve, we filled such integral capacities as taking registration, staffing the snack and book tables, and giving the morning devotional. I brought the Proverbs 31 Woman to deliver that message, and again offer my undying thanks to Nicole Johnson for her brilliant scriptwriting.

Among our teachers/facilitators/hosts were authors Tessa Afshar, Lucinda Secrest McDowell, Cecil Murphey, publisher Karen Porter, viral-blogger Lori Stanley Roeveld, and Broadway theatre critic Lauren Yarger. (Please forgive me if I've omitted your name from this list - I arrived late Friday, so missed the first day of workshops.) Each and every one of the leaders was generously helpful and willingly available throughout the weekend, at meals, in front of the fireplace, for one more cup of coffee in the dining hall. The theme that ran through all the keynote speeches and breakout sessions was "Be honest, be transparent, and you'll become the writer you're called to be."

Several of the attendees brought their own books to sell - something I aspire to! - and among others, I picked up Karen Porter's book entitled "I'll Bring the Chocolate"(Irresistible!). I'm reading it this morning, watching oak leaves and pine needles fall in my back yard, and sipping my second mug of Café Mocha. 

I'm on the chapter about Chocolate-Kiss Encouragement. This chapter opens with a quote by Lucy Van Pelt who says, "All you really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt." Indeed it doesn't! To paraphrase the New Testament book of First Corinthians, chapter 13, 

"Encouragement is patient, encouragement is kind, encouragement is sometimes just quiet, sitting  beside you, and listening if you need to talk, or just being there if you don't…"

Encouragement reflects the encourager's faith and brings hope to the "encouragee" (is that a word?). Hope despite the circumstances, hope despite 'sight', hope despite public opinion offers a view of a brighter, resolved, promising future. 

Let's put it this way: Job's "comforters" should have quit at the end of Chapter Two. They are NOT in the Encouragers Hall of Fame.

Encouragement says "I care". Direct sales companies train new recruits that "Your customers don't care how much you know until they know how much you care." If they see how smart you are about your product, they may be impressed, but they won't buy. But if they see how committed you are to help them, answer a need, and provide a product that will meet that need, they will buy, and then they'll go out and tell other people to buy from you too.

Coincidentally, I recently had a rather energized discussion with a preacher friend on this very subject. I held that his audience needs to know how much he cares in order for his message to reach them. He contended that if the message was adequately compelling in itself - The Word of God, for example - it doesn't matter who delivers it. Ok, ok, I conceded, selling burpable plastic storage boxes is not the same as sharing the Gospel. 
(As I drove away from his door, my cell phone rang. "You know I care for the people I preach to, don't you?" Oh, yes, my friend, of that I am absolutely sure!)

Encouragement is difficult via social media, especially if you're bringing the chocolate. So if you can't pull up a chair, at least pull up a phone.

I've always loved it that Barnabbas' mom named him "son of encouragement". 
What a cool name! 

I'm really curious about what she named his sister… 
since, let's face it, she would have been the one bringing the chocolate...

Trinkets, Touches, and The Truth

You meet all kinds in this “charity” business. Some will make you smile, some will make you laugh, some will make you want to quit. Some you’ll want to “lay hands on suddenly”, some you’ll want to fire, and some you’ll want to adopt and make part of your family. Some feel entitled and justified in taking from us all that the world has allegedly ripped off from them; some feel unworthy and won’t take even what they are eligible for because someone else might need it more; most are speechlessly grateful and cannot believe they are really allowed to take what is being handed to them.

But the least of these is the one who cannot express need, or gratitude, or even an understanding of what this place is all about. I work in a Give-Away Center for the poor and homeless in a metropolitan city. This “least” one is the who just keeps coming back because the people here call him by his name, smile and ask how he’s doing, find him a new shirt, and give him a package of cookies before he leaves to return home, across the bridge, on foot.

Let’s call him Oliver. He’s quiet, unassuming, minds his own business, as a rule answers yes or no, depending on how you worded your question. Unless he really doesn’t like the way something tastes, he pretty much takes whatever you give him. He smiles and nods, but seldom says more than ten words in a half hour. The clothes he wears are those he had on last week, and last month, and his sneakers don’t match. 

He came in to the Give-Away Center on a Tuesday. Same smiling eyes, same pursed-lip grin, same stained dress shirt, same mismatched sneakers. As always, he had his right hand hooked into the left-breast pocket of his “donated” dress shirt. And today, he had a new-to-him pair of lime-green-and-black sneakers in a plastic grocery bag. 

“Oliver, HI! How you doing? What’s that in your bag?” He shows me and the staff of guys who work with me, residents in the rehab house next door . We make a big deal about the bright color, and shouldn’t we get you some nice slacks and a shirt to wear with them? He nods in agreement and smiles a little more. 

One of the male staff helps him find a pair of slacks (that fit his slight frame) and a light blue shirt. He looks brighter as he shows me his new outfit. The staff member gives me an assortment of rusted bolts, a pen cap, a nickel, and a gum wrapper - the contents of his left-breast pocket. Trash, trinkets, or treasure, none of it mine to take, toss, or evaluate.

“Oliver, how ‘bout some nice shoes to go with your new outfit?” Another grinning nod.

“Sit right here and we’ll find you a pair.” Brown loafers in his size.

“You should wear sox with these shoes. Go ahead and take off your sneakers, and I’ll find you a pair of sox.” The guys stayed with him while I found a pair of sox.

We were not ready for what we saw when he took his sneakers off, but we needed to see his need for more than clothes and shoes.                                       

There’s an episode in the Bible where Jesus meets up with a blind guy:

“And they came to Bethsaida. And some people brought to him a blind man and begged him to touch him. And he took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village, and when he had spit on his eyes and laid his hands on him, he asked him, “Do you see anything?” And he looked up and said, “I see people, but they look like trees, walking.” Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he opened his eyes, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.” (Mark 8:22-25)

Oliver needed another touch - more than clothes and shoes, more than even food. He needed medical attention. What can we do? The house nurse had left for the day, the guys had to get back for lunch. I certainly couldn’t leave work to drive him to the ER. What do we do? One of the guys called his pastor who promised to come by after his early afternoon appointment to take Oliver to the ER. We got him lunch and waited with him until Pastor picked him up. Another touch.

He still needs one more touch, I can feel it. Anyone can see it. But nothing that we “in the charity business” or in the medical profession have to offer will adequately “open Oliver’s eyes”. No, only One Person can do that. And from our human perspective, we can’t imagine that even He could do anything - Oliver is incapable of understanding, grasping the concept of washing his feet, filling a prescription, applying ointment and taking medication for ten days. He walks the streets, finds treasure in garbage cans,  wears the same clothes for weeks, and somehow gets home each night to sleep.

When I think about Oliver, I get teary, and smile at the same time. Our earthly perspective is so narrow, so temporal, so physical. Oliver is indeed one of “the least of these”, but he is ‘touch-able’: able to be touched by a friendly greeting, a welcoming smile, hearing his own name spoken with respect and joy, a new shirt and a package of cookies. He has been touched and will continue to be touched by those more “fortunate”, lower than whom he is NOT AT ALL, ... because if we “more fortunate” are humble enough to have our spiritual eyes opened, we will “Know the Truth, and the Truth will set us FREE”... FREE from thinking we are better, bigger, smarter, more blessed.. FREE to see that we are touchable by the very least of these, HIS Brethren, whom we get to serve in The Name of Him Who humbled Himself to selflessly serve us.