In September of 1996, my father was dying. On Sunday, Sept. 8, a man at our church had what was diagnosed as a stroke and was rushed to the ER. Immediately after church, I went to the hospital and stayed with him and his family until 4 p.m. From there, I drove the 6 and a half hours to northeast Tennessee to be with my Mom and Dad where I was expected. When I arrived, after 11 p.m., my mother was furious that I had come so late in the day. When I explained what had happened, she said, “So, those people down in Georgia mean more to you that your own father who is lying in the next room dying.” Indeed, he would die the next Thursday, Sept. 12.
My mother was wrong. And yet she was also right. Because from the cross, Jesus re-defined what it means for the believer to be family. In those few words, “Woman, behold your son … (and to the disciple) behold your mother,” he conveys all the responsibilities for his mother to the disciple who was present.
The disciple also receives the privileges, not the least of which is to now be the son of the Blessed Mary. Earlier, Jesus hints at and teaches about who is family in the New Kingdom, but now He makes it real.
Almost 20 years ago, a man in our church called just before 10 p.m. to ask if I could see him before he went to work. I said, “Sure, what time?”
“Now would be good. I go to work at midnight.” I met him at a Waffle House and, nearly two hours later I was on the way home wondering why being out at midnight didn’t irritate me as it had in the past.
No one asks to see a dentist, or hairdresser, or the shoe repair guy at 10 p.m. But then I thought, if one of my sons asked to see me at 10 p.m., I would make that happen because they are my family.
After 25 years I had finally gotten it. I had made the shift somehow. These people were as much my family as many of my blood relatives.
Which is why, when tragedies or deaths have happened in several of the families of our church, I have driven or flown to Florida, or Utah, or New York, or Illinois, or Washington state, or other places, to be with them.
It is why, when a baby is being born, if I am notified, I show up at the hospital and stay all night if necessary until he or she is born. It is why I have been on the north side of Atlanta, and places in-between, many times as early as 5 a.m., for a surgery.
It is why three times I have gone to military bases to watch our young men graduate from basic training or boot camp. It is why I went to an Army base to pray for one of our soldiers just before he went to Iraq. It is why I went with his 6-year-old son to his school’s father/son day because his daddy was at war.
It is why I grieve, sometimes terribly, when one of our folks receives a difficult diagnosis or when they pass away. It is why I feel a personal sense of loss when families get transferred. And, when someone gets mad and leaves, I have a personal sense of hurt.
I share these things only to indicate how my life and ministry has radically changed since I “got it.” Sadly, I don’t always do right and people sometimes slip through the cracks.
I’ve been told that I need to be more professional, to establish more distance between me and the folks; that I need to not be so personally invested in people. But I lived and ministered that way for 25 years before I finally “got it.” And having gotten it, I think I prefer to keep it. The pain is greater, but the joy is sweeter, too.
On Palm Sunday, we had an Easter egg hunt after church. One of our beautiful 10-year-old girls recently had brain surgery for the removal of a tumor. As you may know, it sometimes takes a while for everything to return to normal. Sometimes there is confusion and patients don’t think as quickly or clearly as they will later on.
While all of the children were running around and filling up their baskets with candy-filled plastic eggs, this little one mostly stood in place. She did pick up two eggs and place them in her basket. One of the other children — not the adults — noticed this and word spread quickly. Within a matter of minutes, the children surrounded her and, from their own baskets, filled up her basket to over-flowing. The smile on her face was brilliant. These children got it. This was their sister in Christ. She was family. It didn’t take them decades to come to that conclusion.
[David Epps is the pastor of Christ the King Church (www.ctkcec.org) which meets Sundays at 10 a.m. and is located on Ga. Highway 34 between Peachtree City and Newnan. He may be contacted at frepps@ctkcec.org.]
