Humbled and Amazed

As a musician, i am accustomed to accompanying people as they experience deep, overwhelming, sometimes debilitating emotion. I have sung and played at many weddings, funerals, ceremonies celebrating retirement or graduation or other milestone achievements, installations of bishops, life-changing convocations and conferences, and baptisms of infants, children, and adults. I take this responsibility seriously, making an effort to be careful with the emotional and spiritual outpourings that happen in my presence.

Recently, one of my students lost his father unexpectedly. He's been involved in our program since he arrived as a freshman. I find it interesting that he did not look us up, as many do, because his social and spiritual experience had traditionally been defined in terms of a church youth group. He had not really done much "church" before he came to college.

He hangs out with us a lot, for which i am grateful. He attends worship celebrations and service opportunities and retreats. I love that he did not seek us out of a deep, desparate need to "find God" due to lonliness or a terrible tragedy; he just sort-of wandered in while he was investigating his new campus and somebody offered him a cup of soup. As he participated in more and more of our programs and activities, he did not have a dramatic epiphany. He just liked thinking about God in new and different ways among people who readily admitted that their questions were as confused and arbitrary, sacred and mundane, inarticulate and indescribable as any others'.

We do not claim to have a lot of answers here in the Spiritual Life office. We value questions more than answers, and process more than product.

So, when his father had a sudden heart attack, and then passed on a few days later, he was overwhelmed that people visited him and brought meals to him and his family. Our team was present at his father's funeral, at which he spoke eloquently of his deep respect and love for his father. Seeing this ceremony through the eyes of someone who does not, and never has, been a regular church-goer showed me a different perspective: the words and songs are not a cliche to him, but a powerful means of comfort. "Amazing Grace," which i have played and sung thousands of times, embodied hope that i have not encountered before -- at least, not as far as i can remember.

I am humbled and amazed at the opportunities i am afforded by the simple fact that i work in ministry. A hot cup of soup accepted in a shoulder-shrugging, "why not," sort of way opened the door to many subsequent nonchalant and earth-shatteringly powerful experiences. We just never know when our "everyday" will meet someone else's "for the rest of my life." I am just grateful that they meet.