Delightful Drizzly Days

November 14, 2017

They are mostly old (although they might not appreciate my saying so) and getting tired, but I’ve seldom worked with people so ready to jump into ministry opportunities as are these Dunkirk folks. We are the remnant of what was once a thriving city congregation that has fallen on hard times through little, if no fault of their own. About thirty strong, they operate the Willow Mission, providing food, clothing, and household items for area needy people, without requiring any documentation. Just north of the church, the population is primarily Puerto Rican, which undoubtedly includes some who are here without documentation because of the recent hurricanes there which displaced so many people. They show up Monday after Monday, and these elderly members serve them with grace and kindness.

This evening was our monthly community fundraising dinner. The secretary and her husband were here first thing in the morning, setting up and getting ready for the dinner. Others started trickling in through the afternoon, ready to help. But it was a conversation over lunch that caught my attention. A woman who attends here has found herself in need. She hasn’t asked for help, but in conversation with her, Barbara, our secretary, learned of this woman’s situation. At lunch, Barbara outlined the problem and suggested that the church might be in a unique position to help. The woman stopped in the office, we talked, and I think it might just work out in a way that proves to be beneficial for her and for us.

One of the joys of ministry is seeing how God orchestrates things to bless his people. And when God’s people have eyes (and more importantly, hearts) open to the needs of those around them, amazing things can happen. It’s been a dull, drizzly day. I was up early for a pastor’s meeting, followed by another, both of which were good, but watching God’s ordinary saints looking for and finding ways to serve is a special treat for which I am thankful today.

Postscript: I was the last one to leave the church tonight. I had a few details to catch up on, so was sitting in the office when Barbara, the secretary, poked her head in the door. The Hispanic congregation was worshipping in the chapel, so the back door would remain unlocked, but she would set the alarm that protected the sanctuary and offices, neither of us thinking this plan through. Half an hour later when I stepped through the office doorway into the common area, the alarm sounded, bringing two of the worshippers out to find out what had happened. I had just shut off the alarm when the phone rang. It was the security people. I told them what happened, and that it was OK. “What is the password?” She asked. I told her. “And what is the four digit security code?” That had me stumped. I had never been given a four digit code.

I gave the only number I could think of, which contained five digits. “That’s it,” she said, and hung up. Go figure!