“The Church of Jesus Christ exists in and for the world…” -The Book of Discipline of the United Methodist Church
The rain lashed against my office window and I winced. My church had teams of teenagers and adults scattered across the community engaged in home repair work for our neighbors who couldn’t do the work themselves and couldn’t afford to hire professionals to do it for them.
It had been a devastatingly hot summer week thus far, but Wednesday morning brought with it a doozy of a thunderstorm, which was presently raging outside my window.
That’s when the phone rang.
“This is Pastor Laura,” I said, bringing the phone to my ear while typing the final words in an email.
“Pastor,” an age-worn voice, slow and wobbly, replied. “I’m B—, one of the homeowners your church is helping this week.” I braced myself. I never know what to expect when strangers call.
“Hello,” I replied, hiding my unease behind my friendliest pastor voice, “what can I do for you?”
“I just had to call and tell you how amazing of a man Mr. W— is…” I nodded to myself, anxiety easing, because I knew Mr. W—. If he was the subject of this story, it could only end beautifully.
B— described the moment the storm arrived that morning, with a torrential downpour and gusty winds. W— was on the ladder, fixing her gutter, as it had been falling down and causing all sorts of problems for her mobile home.
“Can you believe it?” She asked me. “He stayed right up on that ladder in all that rain and wind until it was fixed!” I echoed her amazement, but really I was not at all surprised to hear about W—’s sacrificial dedication to B—’s home. Thinking we were done, I was about to wrap up the call when B— kept talking.
She described her sudden panic when a sizable wind gust tore through the neighborhood, scattering trash cans down the lane. She was terrified that W— had fallen from the ladder and injured himself. So she peeked outside to see, and with a sigh of relief, she found W— safe and sound, feet planted solidly on the ground, doing something entirely unexpected.
“You see,” she told me, her southern accent thick with emotion, “that great wind took off most of the skirting around my mobile home and it was a mess. I’d never be able to fix it. But there was W— fixing it. It wasn’t on his list of projects. I knew he had lots to do. But he didn’t leave until it was fixed. I couldn’t believe it.” My eyes started to burn, mirroring the tears I heard on the other end of the line as she nearly whispered, “He didn’t leave until every last bit was fixed.”
“I called,” B— continued on a shaky breath, “because I want you to tell your whole church just what kind of a man they have among them. I want the whole world to know what he’s done for me.”
My mind took off into Bible-land (an occupational hazard), and I saw Jesus reclining at a table a couple of days before his arrest, and a woman anointing his soon-to-be pierced and beaten head with a year’s salary worth of fragrant oil. The extravagance of the act angered some of Jesus’ followers, who insisted those resources could have been put to better use. But Jesus defended the extravagant love of this woman with the alabaster jar, going so far as to say, “Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” (Mark 14:3-9, NRSV).
B— repeated her wish, bringing me back to the present moment, insisting, “I want your whole church to know what W— has done for me.” With Jesus’ words echoing in my mind, I assured her that this beautiful story would be shared far and wide.
When the call ended, I sat back in my office chair, watching the rain pelt my window, and marveled at her awe of W—’s generosity.
He surprised her.
His simply extravagant generosity astonished her.
//
Truth be told, the Church is often known for a different kind of extravagance, and for good reason. I’ve toured the halls of the Vatican and gawked at the priceless treasures housed within. I’ve oohed and aahed over the famous European cathedrals and our own American counterparts. I was married in the gothic splendor of Duke Chapel, for goodness sake, cherishing every bit of its grandeur as I made my life’s most important vows.
But the glorious extravagances of the world’s most beautiful churches pale in comparison to the quietly sacred moment when a member of Christ’s Body, the Church, empties his alabaster jar of love to honor the Jesus he finds in the world.
The real beauty of the Church is not found in stained glass windows or state-of-the-art worship centers. It is found outside the Church’s hallowed halls - on ladders beside trailers, in nursing homes and prisons, beside hospital beds and gravesites, wherever people are suffering. The real beauty of the Church is found in W—’s kind of extravagant servanthood, wet and uncomfortable, unglamorous and unselfish, even a bit dangerous.
Why? Because it’s the closest the Church comes to reflecting the beauty of Jesus’ extravagant, self-giving love. It’s the most obvious sign that God is present, anointing the Church with Christ’s Spirit as the Church anoints the world with Christ’s love.
//
B—’s surprise lingers with me. Perhaps much of the world is like B—, expecting a showy kind of extravagance from the Church, never to spill past its illustrious front doors. But the Church exists in and for the world, to uncork our alabaster jar hearts and generously anoint the Jesus in everyone we meet.
This happens every day. Church-folks like W— love their neighbors with simple extravagance as they change flat tires, bring casseroles, sit by bedsides, mow lawns, and babysit children. We the Church keep surprising the B—’s around us, quietly, tenderly revealing a heart of humble service, a hidden beauty, the truest reflection of God.
You see, with all its failures, scandals, and political schemes, it is still a beautiful Church. Be hopeful. God is still here.
Beautiful! I will think of this story and the story of so many in my church who quietly, faithfully serve others. This story is the one we want to share with the world and one that we want to consider as we think of how we can serve going forward. Thank you for this perspective!