Ministry

Today, I believe that I ministered for the first time, and not by example or deed, or any of those creative ways in which we hold tribute to living in the way of God’s kingdom, but in real conversation as a woman with a past to a woman with a past. I didn’t realize that I had ministered this afternoon, until several hours later while washing my dishes, and it just came over me. I remembered the joy I felt in my afternoon ministry; the comfort I felt in being there, and most of all, the normalcy of it to me - - it flooded my body, and I left the soapy sponge, in the crusty pasta sauce, in the bowl, in the sink, so I could sit down and think for a few minutes about the encounter.

Despite all the discussion about the topic at Divinity School, my brain is continually skeptical of forgiveness. My heart, - - a big fan of grace. But mercy, -- that’s what gives me a lump in my throat. My friend Sam who lives at Riverbend Maximum Security Institute is sort of like a grandfather figure to me, and he says that I must always remember mercy. He says God is only about mercy. “If he can remember mercy, why can’t I,” I often wonder.

Today I sat with a woman who is pursuing her PhD, and we talked about our lives, and the story of our twenties. I asked what she had done before her graduate school work. Laughing, at first she said she was a prostitute. I made a joke about her clientel. Then she paused and she said, “No, actually, in all seriousness, I was a drug dealer and I went to jail. And my boyfriend who I told you about, I met him in a halfway house.” In the shadow of Vanderbilt’s Kirkland Hall, I thought she was pulling my leg. But I quickly thought about my own life. A montage of my past came through my vision: the struggles, the goodbyes, the violence, the wilderness of my existence. I remembered that I am as much a victim and a sinner, as everybody else, and I realized that this woman was telling me the truth. She was a drug dealer before she was an academic. She was a liar before she was seeking the truth in these halls. So we talked, and talked, and talked, about our lives. There were no tears. There were no ah-ha moments. And when we were done, we got up with our lattes, and walked in the sunshine, back to our school work. And when I washed my dishes, I realized that I finally understood what ministry was about. Mercy.