Sunday Night Saints: Pastor Hamburger
There have been two mass shootings in the past day and a half. The worst part is it's become so common, and oddly, so divisive. Hatred. Murder. Bigotry. Racism. As common as a cold. It's one of those days where we're tempted to wonder, "Is there any good left in the world?" Are things getting worse? So worse that we've actually become immune? It's definitely one of those days where we say with earnestness, "Come Lord Jesus."
But we also plead, "On earth as it is in Heaven." As people of faith, people of light, people charged with salting a dry and tasteless world, we're charged with restoring what was once created perfect, that mankind has broken. I ran into some salt this week. While ordering french fries. No, really...don't laugh.
The kids and I made it halfway through a miserable day of filling out school paperwork and renewing, picking up and dropping off prescriptions when we stopped in at our standard burger and fries chain restaurant. The older man behind the counter wore a heavy cross on a chain around his neck and a sparkly grin in his eyes. And, oddly, a badge that said "Pastor". It also had his first name, but not only do I not remember it, but neither would it be appropriate to name him without his permission. So, would it be terribly disrespectful if I refer to him as "Pastor Hamburger"?
Stepping up the counter I placed the complicated order for Moses which has stopped seeming complicated to me and I worked in a coupon in for me and Daniel's nuggets.
The man struggled a bit with the order, honestly. And then when he rushed to correct the woman building his protein style "cheese" burger when I urgently but politely let them know he needed a whole new burger because I caught sight of her just pulling the cheese off the patty.
But don't freak out or get distracted by this. That's not the point of the post. This is just part of our life, which has taught us we have to communicate clearly, calmly and firmly. Every time. The point is, throughout the whole thing he cheerfully and kindly dealt with her, me and the anxious waiting customers behind me. He then went out of the way to show us courtesy, respect and hospitality in a way that nearly reminded me of that Christian Chicken place that serves fries shaped like waffles. Independently and quite naturally, as though it was just who he was. He even stopped by the table to give "knuckles" to my kids, which I believe he called "powering up."
When we got ready to leave we stopped sweeping near the front and told us to come back soon.
"I think you love Jesus too," I smiled at him, noting his badge.
"Of course I do! I'm a pastor!" he grinned.
"What church are you affiliated with?" I asked, feeling like maybe I knew what he was about to say.
"Well, you know pastors don't need a church building with walls to do ministry," he explained and I nodded, matching his grin. "I used to have a church. But there's a lot of red tape and office work that kept me from being able to do what I felt God calling me to do, out in the world ministering to others. It's not the only way, but it's what I feel called to."
He motioned around at the restaurant.
"I do this to make enough money to feed the homeless," he continued. "And then I have a group of them that meet in my home."
"Have you read Francis Chan?"
"Crazy Love? Oh yeah," he said.
"Letter's to the Church?"
His smile broadened.
"You're doing it right," I said, which seemed to embarrass him. "I'm studying to be a pastor. And reading a lot lately about this sort of thing. And I think that we might all need to learn to do things a little more like that."
"Oh it's not my idea or my doing. Anything I do that's good is just the Holy Spirit in me," he protested. "But...it's like I they say...'I go where the pizza man won't deliver.'"
"God bless you,"I said.
I thought a lot as I pulled away. About church. What it is. What it should be. What it's purpose is. Buildings start as tools and quickly become a distraction and a burden. We often start with a call to share the gospel and quickly find ourselves so busy filling out paperwork in an office that we forget to build relationships. We fill our church calendars with "Christian" versions of all of our favorite hobbies and activities until we no longer have time or reason to be salt and light. Do we need to sell our sanctuaries and get a job selling hamburgers instead? Maybe. Maybe not. I love my church. I love my job. I love taking Bible College classes. I think there's a lot that's good about church as we know it. There's a good and necessary accountability that comes with being a part of a denomination. There's ministry opportunities that a building and a spiritually healthy group of volunteers can accomplish more efficiently. And wisdom that comes from the godly counsel of a group who's heart is right. But, I do also think it's time to think differently about ministry and to re-read a little bit about how church used to be. Not how it used to be in 1933 or even 1733 but in 33 A.D.
I'm not as gullible as I might sound. I realize Pastor Hamburger could easily have been full of bologna for all I know. It's possible that not a single word he spoke to us was true. But it's Sunday evening. And I wonder if his little congregation met today. Did they eat scrambled eggs in his kitchen, confess their hard truths and their need for a Heavenly Father who is crazy in love with them? Were there baptisms? Was there communion? I'll likely never know this side of heaven. But I do know that God sends these saints into my path for a reason. And maybe tonight, as the news is so bad and God's kingdom seems so far away, it's just to remind me that there will always be good in the world as long as the Holy Spirit lives in the hearts of God's children and works through them to restore what has been lost.
But we also plead, "On earth as it is in Heaven." As people of faith, people of light, people charged with salting a dry and tasteless world, we're charged with restoring what was once created perfect, that mankind has broken. I ran into some salt this week. While ordering french fries. No, really...don't laugh.
The kids and I made it halfway through a miserable day of filling out school paperwork and renewing, picking up and dropping off prescriptions when we stopped in at our standard burger and fries chain restaurant. The older man behind the counter wore a heavy cross on a chain around his neck and a sparkly grin in his eyes. And, oddly, a badge that said "Pastor". It also had his first name, but not only do I not remember it, but neither would it be appropriate to name him without his permission. So, would it be terribly disrespectful if I refer to him as "Pastor Hamburger"?
Stepping up the counter I placed the complicated order for Moses which has stopped seeming complicated to me and I worked in a coupon in for me and Daniel's nuggets.
The man struggled a bit with the order, honestly. And then when he rushed to correct the woman building his protein style "cheese" burger when I urgently but politely let them know he needed a whole new burger because I caught sight of her just pulling the cheese off the patty.
But don't freak out or get distracted by this. That's not the point of the post. This is just part of our life, which has taught us we have to communicate clearly, calmly and firmly. Every time. The point is, throughout the whole thing he cheerfully and kindly dealt with her, me and the anxious waiting customers behind me. He then went out of the way to show us courtesy, respect and hospitality in a way that nearly reminded me of that Christian Chicken place that serves fries shaped like waffles. Independently and quite naturally, as though it was just who he was. He even stopped by the table to give "knuckles" to my kids, which I believe he called "powering up."
When we got ready to leave we stopped sweeping near the front and told us to come back soon.
"I think you love Jesus too," I smiled at him, noting his badge.
"Of course I do! I'm a pastor!" he grinned.
"What church are you affiliated with?" I asked, feeling like maybe I knew what he was about to say.
"Well, you know pastors don't need a church building with walls to do ministry," he explained and I nodded, matching his grin. "I used to have a church. But there's a lot of red tape and office work that kept me from being able to do what I felt God calling me to do, out in the world ministering to others. It's not the only way, but it's what I feel called to."
He motioned around at the restaurant.
"I do this to make enough money to feed the homeless," he continued. "And then I have a group of them that meet in my home."
"Have you read Francis Chan?"
"Crazy Love? Oh yeah," he said.
"Letter's to the Church?"
His smile broadened.
"You're doing it right," I said, which seemed to embarrass him. "I'm studying to be a pastor. And reading a lot lately about this sort of thing. And I think that we might all need to learn to do things a little more like that."
"Oh it's not my idea or my doing. Anything I do that's good is just the Holy Spirit in me," he protested. "But...it's like I they say...'I go where the pizza man won't deliver.'"
"God bless you,"I said.
I thought a lot as I pulled away. About church. What it is. What it should be. What it's purpose is. Buildings start as tools and quickly become a distraction and a burden. We often start with a call to share the gospel and quickly find ourselves so busy filling out paperwork in an office that we forget to build relationships. We fill our church calendars with "Christian" versions of all of our favorite hobbies and activities until we no longer have time or reason to be salt and light. Do we need to sell our sanctuaries and get a job selling hamburgers instead? Maybe. Maybe not. I love my church. I love my job. I love taking Bible College classes. I think there's a lot that's good about church as we know it. There's a good and necessary accountability that comes with being a part of a denomination. There's ministry opportunities that a building and a spiritually healthy group of volunteers can accomplish more efficiently. And wisdom that comes from the godly counsel of a group who's heart is right. But, I do also think it's time to think differently about ministry and to re-read a little bit about how church used to be. Not how it used to be in 1933 or even 1733 but in 33 A.D.
I'm not as gullible as I might sound. I realize Pastor Hamburger could easily have been full of bologna for all I know. It's possible that not a single word he spoke to us was true. But it's Sunday evening. And I wonder if his little congregation met today. Did they eat scrambled eggs in his kitchen, confess their hard truths and their need for a Heavenly Father who is crazy in love with them? Were there baptisms? Was there communion? I'll likely never know this side of heaven. But I do know that God sends these saints into my path for a reason. And maybe tonight, as the news is so bad and God's kingdom seems so far away, it's just to remind me that there will always be good in the world as long as the Holy Spirit lives in the hearts of God's children and works through them to restore what has been lost.
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