Many hats... one heart

I wear many hats.                         
                           

I'm a wife, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a pastor, a friend and a volunteer... a military spouse, a retiree spouse (!), a listener, a reader, a blogger, laundry woman, an expat and most recently, a knitter... and those titles only scratch the surface.

Anyone reading this will know me by a few of these roles... it's not really possible for me to wear all those hats at the same time. But I hope that it's also been evident that while I may wear many hats, I only have one heart.

It's a heart that attempts, in every instance, to put love first.

... that shares my gifts with those around me...

... that keeps looking forward instead of to the past...

... that sees everyone as created in the image of God...

... that tries to work toward justice and peace for those near and far away...

... that seeks to find inner peace for myself...

... that cries at the pain of others...

... that rages at the ways that people will intentionally hurt others in order to have their own way...

... that wonders if there is anything that I can do to facilitate healing to this crazy, mixed up world we are living in.

People have often asked me my favorite scripture. I'm not a big memorizer of bible verses, but there are a couple of passages that I start and end my day with, every day.

The first is the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10). You know it, but I can't help myself...

The answer to the question about eternal life is this: Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself. But the most important part of this story is the question that followed: "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus tells the story of a man beaten, abandoned and holding onto life by a thread. All the of the people we expect to help just passed him by. Spoiler alert: the hero of the story is the outcast, who touched the untouchable, and expended his time, energy and resources to bring the man back to fullness of life. 

And every day I pray, "Lord, let me be the Samaritan..."

The second is another parable, this one from Matthew 25... the sheep and the goats... 

This story always hits me on two levels. 

* Am I treating others as if there were Christ in my life? * What kind of society do we live in that seems to discount or throw away the sick, the hungry and thirsty, the lost and naked... anyone who is different, as if their lives have no value at all? 

In a little town in Russia, there was a cobbler named Martin. He had lived long in the village, and had hardly been a pair of shoes he had not seen, at one time or another.Martin had always been a good man, but in his old age he began to think more about hissoul and to draw nearer to God. From that time on Martin’s life changed. He grew more peaceful and joyful. And one night, while reading from the gospel of Matthew, Martin had a dream that told him this, “Look into the street tomorrow, for I shall come.” In an instant, Martin knew that Christ would visit him the next day, and even in his excitement, slept with great anticipation for the coming day to arrive.

On waking, Martin said his prayers and made a pot of cabbage soup. Then he sat down to work. His windows were right at street level, so as he looked out onto the street occasionally, and if anyone unfamiliar walked by, he would stoop and look up to see if they were coming into his shop. And old and broken man stood in front of the window, having barely enough energy to brush the snow away. “What if I have him in and fame him some tea,” Martin wondered. The kettle is on to boil. So Martin beckoned him in and went to open the door. Come and warm yourself. I’m sure you must be cold.

The old man was quite grateful and they chatted as the afternoon went on. But Martin kept looking out the window, waiting for the Christ to appear. Soon the old man was warm enough to go on his way. He thanked Martin, and Martin went back to work.

People kept walking by. Soon a woman, carrying a baby stopped by the window. She had on summer clothes and was trying to wrap the baby in a cotton cloth. Martin could not help but invite them inside. There he shared with them bread and cabbage soup. He made porridge for the baby. He brought her a old cloak to wrap up the baby, gave her a coin to get her winter clothing from the pawn shop, and sent her on her way.

Finally, a young boy came by, snatching an apple from an old woman right in front Martin’s window. Martin saved the boy from the old woman’s wrath, buying him two apples, and making him promise not to steal again.

By now, evening was approaching, and it was too dark to get any work done. Martin set about the task of cleaning, and waiting. He wondered about the promised visit, and what could keep it from coming true. He just knew that Christ would come. Something important must have kept him away. And then he heard footsteps. “Who is it?” “It is I,” said the voice, and out stepped the old man, who smiled and vanished like a cloud. “It is I,” said the voice again. And out of the darkness stepped the woman and the baby in her arms. Smiling and laughing, they too vanished. “It is I,” said the voice once more. And the old woman and the boy with the apple stepped forward, and then they too vanished.

And Martin’s soul grew glad, for he remembered the words he had been reading… I was hungry and you fed me… I was thirsty and you gave me drink (-- attributed to Leo Tolstoy in The Book of Virtues,158-166.)

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My faith journey has been filled with opportunities to make sure all of my hats fit securely on my one heart. It's not easy. The laundry women's heart can sometimes be resentful that all these clothes need to be washed and ironed (sometimes) again and again. And then I remember that I don't wash and iron because it's my job, but because it's my contribution to our family, and because whatever I don't spend on going to the cleaners gives me more to spend on yarn.

Some days I just want to play it safe, which might mean calling in sick to a group, or not speaking up when words are unintentionally, or worse, intentionally spoken. Some days I want to lash out... be mad... and ugly. Time and prayer and knitting usually help me recenter and uncover the heart that Jesus wants me to have.

A few weeks ago, a large manila envelope showed up in my mailbox. That night, before I went to bed, I sat down with my absentee ballot and my computer to research the candidates and issues before me. I tried to vote with my loving heart...

A few months from now, my denomination will be making decisions that affect our future together and my future as a member of its clergy. I hope they vote with their loving hearts, too.

No matter what, we are all called to live with one heart. As a Christian, my life's work is really simple and desperately hard... to love God and my neighbor with every ounce of my being, and to live that love out in the world, no matter what hat I'm wearing.

Whatever the outcome of these elections and other areas where there is potential for disagreement, here is my advice: Be gentle with one another. See Christ in others. Be good listeners. Accept our differences. Don't hold a grudge. And let us do it all in a spirit of love.

Peace, Deb

(c)  Deb Luther Teagan - November 2018

(c) https://newdaychurch.info/portfolio-item/who-is-my-neighbor/