Atlanta Update Ten
“In Christ now meet both East and West,
In Him meet North and South;
All Christly souls are one in Him
Throughout the whole wide earth.”
--William A. Dunkerly
THE SUN IS setting on my Hoosier home. I watched the sun go off to the horizon this evening from a white whicker chair in my parent’s backyard. As the sun began its descent, the sky changed colors from a soft yellow to a brilliant red, with long streams of flat clouds following in train. Yet, my thoughts were not with the journey of the sun, but were back in Atlanta with my new friends. I sat and thought that they must have begun the morning with Morning Prayer -- at the new time. A few minutes later, S would have asked me if it was “Time to eat?” at which point, I’ll give some witty retort and he’d burst into laughter. As some point in the morning, I would have talked with J or R (who are fairly recent newcomers to Holy Comforter) about life and what it was like for J to be raised Roman. I would have gotten plenty of hugs from B, G, K and S (only mentioning a few). C would alternatively tell me jokes and talk about the health problems his family are going through. And the list goes on. And the list goes on while the sun sets over my neighbor‘s house; I watch it set with my Book of Common Prayer in hand. In many ways I have left Atlanta; in many ways, I have not.
IN ALL HONESTY, I have avoided writing this final Atlanta Update, as it signifies the true end of the summer. I had originally decided that my final AU would begin with me looking for my fingernail clippers (that I always seem to loose) in my century-old Grant Park home. And yet, I had no brown-paper bag full of old notes for me to stumble upon; no tangible sign to signify the end of my time in Atlanta. Old bulletins, these nine emails, copious amounts of notes and a plethora of mosquito bites are the only signs of my time spent in Atlanta.
BUT LOOK BEYOND the surface -- beyond my new plantation hat -- and there have been many solidifications and changes. My commitment to the vocational ministry is renewed. My belief in the Gospel that is for all people -- regardless of whatever their circumstances or station of life is -- is unchanged. My belief in the transformative power that Gospel is unchanged. I have seen that same Gospel acted out tangibly this summer in Atlanta and it was awe-inspiring and hearting. And the list goes on.
BUT MANY THINGS were challenged this summer. Its hard for vanity to survive when you were frequently confused by new comers for a congregant of Holy Comforter. Its hard to be vain when you’ve been surrounded by people who have long dirty fingernails, an odd smell and can’t speak clearly. It’s even harder to be vain when one realizes that those who I have just described have a deeper faith than I ever will have in spite of harder challenges than I have ever seen in my life. This whole summer put a lot of things in perspective: from clothes, intelligence, to sundry liturgical matters. And the list goes on.
YES, MY TIME in Atlanta has come to an end. I am now miles away in the great flatlands preparing for the start of school. Yet, I should hasten to look beyond the surface. When I take Eucharist this Sunday at St. John’s in Johnson City, TN, my new friends from Atlanta will be there, although unseen. For wherever God is, there is God’s faithful people gathered around the Table of the Lord to partake in the sacrifice of God’s most holy Son. You’ll be there, too, my friend (even if you won’t be in Johnson City) In Christ, there is no east or west but one true fellowship of love.
IN MY FIRST email I wrote about how I am who I am because of your ministry to me. Now, I can include my new friends into that. I am who I am because I was blessed to have my new friends in my life. I pray that I may be made worthy of the love that they have showered upon me and worthy to walk down that road that they have trod. I pray that my life become a living epistle -- a living testimony -- to their life and their Christian witness. Yes, I am no longer physically with my friends in Atlanta, but I am with them in the Eucharist and they are with me in my ministry.
SO, A DOOR closes and another opens. And so the sun sets but life goes on . . . Where are we going next, Lord?