A year ago whenever Monday arrived I would groan. After twenty plus years of carrying the problems of the world on my shoulders they had begun to sag. The happiness of the job was fleeting and increasingly rare. A sad weariness had taken root inside of me. I remember merely walking into Union Mission would make me tired.
While the needs of the homeless, uninsured, sick and addicted remained relentless every day, the challenge of meeting those needs had diminished for me. We’d built the nation’s most elaborate and integrated series of programs to meet those needs. Professionally there was little more to accomplish.
But every day, these people would come to see me, stop me in the hallway, call or write. They would spill out their problems asking if I could help. Most had lives that resembled train wrecks … addicted, sick with no insurance or job. Could I help them?
And the programs were in place to do so. I would patiently explain the steps they needed to take to work the programs through. They often needed encouragement and someone to express confidence in their ability because no one gave them these things.
A while back I wrote a book called “Out From Under the Rock” as a way of raising money for Union Mission which it did. Over 9000 copies were sold and the money paid for more services that people needed.
The book argues that there are increasing numbers of people who have little or no use for church but still need a minister in their lives. Someone to marry, bury and bless. Everybody needs encouragement. We need somebody to have confidence in us when we seem to have lost it in ourselves.
We need someone to give us hope.
These ideas were formed day after day, year after year, patiently listening to person after person ask me to help. The truth is that they already knew what they needed. They understood the programs and how to get in them. They believed that their lives would be greatly improved if they did these things for themselves.
What they didn’t have is someone saying that “I believe in you. You know how to do this. I think you can.”
While I did a lot of cool stuff at Union Mission and at the Jefferson Street Baptist Chapel in Louisville, this really was my most important function.
To look at people living shitty lives, who desperately wanted better, and to give them hope.
But it caught up with me and I couldn’t do anymore. I’d given everything that I had to give and of course they still needed more.
It isn’t rocket science to understand that something had to give. And what gave was me. I crumbled under the weight of it all.
Looking back at the things I wrote on Monday’s last year, the words are full of a weary sadness that underlines that I had nothing left. Yet the needs remained oppressive.
And when you’re a weakened state there are those who take advantage of you and you’re just too beat up to notice. Until they’ve done the things that they’re going to do … at your expense. Then you’re worse off than you were. And your own confidence is shaken in other people.
Last year, I was becoming more and more like my homeless, sick, addicted, hurting brothers and sisters. Love left. Hope faded. I crashed.
Today is different. It is Monday and I’ve been dying to get started. After sweet dreams I woke and lay in bed, staring at the silhouettes of Palm Trees outside of my bedroom windows. Choirs of birds were singing in celebration of the coming dawn. Adrenalin rushed through my veins and I welcomed … Monday.
After some photo shoots this morning, we’re assembling the things that I’ve been writing over the last several days for presentations in Chicago tomorrow. I’m pumped!
The homework has been done and I know, with no uncertainty that we’re going to blow the room away. Later this week, we’re meeting with the Press and making a lot of things public that we’ve been working on for the few months. Old skills have been polished. Confidence is flying high.
Over the past year there have been a handful of people who ministered to me. Most wouldn’t be caught dead in church (save Bar Church perhaps) but they encouraged and kindled hope. And I would be here without them.
I begin this day by whispering prayers of Thanksgiving for each of them, blowing them kisses towards the sea as I lay in my bed in what has become a time of morning prayers.
Then I leap with energy in celebration of Monday.
