Reflecting on Tuesday

I'll be the first to admit that there are moments in ministry that you never forget. When ministry feels dry and empty you need moments to remind you that God is unpredictable, spontaneous, and never bottled up. You'd think that I would have an entire data base of these moments. The ministry is all I've ever known. Truth be told, as a preacher's kid, I probably should have more memories and moments stored. But for whatever case, I do not. Maybe that's how God keeps the mystery alive and fresh. Maybe I'm not observative. I'm not sure I'll ever know why they are so few and far between. But on July 3rd 2012, I got enough Jesus to last me a lifetime.

It started with a trip to the "The School of Hope" which is designated for mentally challenged children as well as for youthful deaf and blind. One can start to imagine the challenges. Do we sing? Do we tell a story? Any concept of devotion faced endless boundaries. We all were nervous and perplexed. But something happened. Something that no one fully expected. The human spirit and Holy Spirit could not be denied. A heavy room turned to laughter. Garrison Wood communicated with a deaf teenager by typing on his cell phone; barrier lifted. Shelby Fromm prayed with a mentally challenged 12 year old girl and Colton Fromm laid hands on her; barrier lifted. Mary Anna Caldwell gave her camera to a group of boys which turned distance to a full out photo shoot; barrier lifted. And then there was music. David Jewell and I began playing and clapping ensued. People began dancing and the room was filled with clapping out of rhythm, uncontrollable dancing and laughter. The students followed their teacher as she signed the words and for a few minutes there were no sociological, mental, or physical boundaries. "Hope" and I don't use that loosely, was circulating at a rate that one could not keep up in The School Of Hope and the power of Jesus was more than visible. It was contagious.

This moment alone would have been enough to hang our trip on, but the day was far from over. It was 10:00 am we would soon see that what started in the School of Hope would spread miles down the street to the Infirmary.

Imagine, if you will, one of our worst fears. Growing old in a hot, unsanitary, complex. The sane mixed with the insane. Hopelessness was everywhere. There were people who were bedridden forever and would never see the outside of the four walls they currently resided under. It's not the type of thing you can prep a youth for. Even if you attempted to, there is a sense of "the experience" that can not be substituted with pictures or stories from this place. The feeling is heavy, almost overbearing. Reading, hearing or view pictures connected to this place can not begin to prepare you for the first 30 minutes of experience you take in after stepping foot in the Infirmary.

I could see it on their faces. Emily Poplin was trying to process it and focus on her singing responsibilities. Jay Tripp was sitting next to me and kept trying to find anything that would show happiness. He even tried to pet a goat, which promptly ran from him. As he told me, "This place is sad man....real sad..." And Jay was more right then he could have ever imagined. And so the concert begins. Only a selected few who who could walk made it to the event. The first glimpse of hope could be seen during a Sheridan Fromm solo (Amazing Grace). There was a woman (I think her name was Victoria) who recognized the song and started singing with Sheridan. And they both looked at each other and kept singing; barrier lifted. The same happens during a Emily Poplin solo. Victoria begins to sing "This Little Light of Mine" at the top of her lungs. And this time, Emily starts dancing and clapping; barrier lifted.

The show ends and we noticed 3 buildings where the bedridden and often deformed are held. This is the farthest from hope I've ever traveled. Barriers are EVERYWHERE. A small group walks back to these areas. We're equipped with a guitar, mandolin, and fear. We walk in the first room and there is a woman who can't stop shaking along with countless bedridden individuals. The music starts, the Spirit enters, and glorious chaos follows. People sit up in their beds. Shaking hands begin to clap. Emotionless faces begin to cry and smile. "This Little Light of Mine" has taken on it's true meaning. If there was ever a moment that song served its purpose it was on July 3rd 2012. I look to my right and there is a woman with no legs and curled in fetal position (permanently) leaning over her bed beating the side of the frame keeping rhythm with the song. Unhindered joy had flooded the room and for the first time in my life, I think I experience what heaven was like. You wouldn't know it from the view but heaven on earth blanketed the Infirmary in Port Antonio Jamaica. Glorious chaos...I like the sound of that. - Christian