Standing at the Gates!

It was going to be a busy Sunday. Being the planner that I am, I had decided to skip my normal Sunday lunch with friends for a focused time of preparation. We were hosting Stations of the Cross this afternoon and the crew of volunteers would be there ready to pull the event together in only an hour and a half. I wanted to have things ready so they could just kick it in as soon as they arrived.

Things were clicking along and I had avoided all distractions at this point. As I got ready to move one more table to it's designated area for the afternoon I spotted her in the hallway.

"Can I help you?" I asked from the Fellowship Hall, really hoping the answer would be quick so I could return to my long list.

"I want to pray", her accent was thick. I walked toward her while sharing that the sanctuary is open and she is welcomed to pray. She nodded. I pointed to the door of the sanctuary.

She didn't understand. She told me she had come from a "long way away". From her difficulty finding the English word she desired, I could tell she did not mean Texas. She was having as much luck understanding me as I was understanding her. I realized this was not going to be as simple as pointing to a pew and getting back to the signs that needed to be made.

However, I kept hearing our morning sermon (yes, I get to hear it three times). They stand at the gates and are hungry to enter. "Do we stand as a builder and reject stones or do we stand as a greeter and say 'come on in'?" I opened the door to the sanctuary, motioned and asked her if I could pray with her. I was still holding my sandwich I had been eating as I moved tables. I found a home for my lunch and we moved into a pew.

The more I listened the more I realized that her accent was not the only reason she struggled to find the right words to explain her situation, she was extremely tired. She was overwhelmed. She was concerned for her family. The details of her story are not as important as how for a moment on a Sunday afternoon time stood still.

A women from the other side of the world (literally) was in the neighborhood and saw the church. (I am sure it was the new entryway). She was having the same kind of stresses that every other person that takes a seat in those pews every Sunday has. She needed someone to stop, put down their chicken salad sandwich and listen.

As I prayed over her, she sobbed. Almost as if she was releasing the stresses of the last couple weeks. She stood to leave, I asked her if she would come back and experience the Stations of the Cross. She simply thanked me and said she needed to go.

Because of her weariness and accent, there were moments during our conversation I missed. I am not sure if her sister from Boston is coming back into town. I didn't completely follow if she would visit her son before going back to her country. However, I did catch that she believes a miracle happened today as she walked into the church. I have to agree.
She reminded me that we are both stones that the builders reject, yet we are both passionately loved by God.


May we both stand at the gates of righteousness and beg to come in!