Four years ago this past Wednesday, I found myself trying to get home from a work convention in Galveston, Texas.
While eventually it would take me five long days to finally get home, this unexpected travel delay caused by a massive blizzard that hit northwestern Minnesota ended up producing one of the most memorable moments of my entire pastoring journey. It is an experience that is seared into memory, and reminds me of the importance of just bearing witness when encountering someone in an extremely low place in their life.
I don't pretend that I was a superhero in this story. Rather, I like to think that I just displayed the common human empathy that if we saw more of, the world would become a kinder, gentler place overnight. ... And I also knew that I truly was just riding shotgun with Jesus who was very definitely there that day.
The day began with me arriving at the George Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston, where I eventually found out that my plane from there to Minneapolis-St. Paul was canceled because of the blizzard that had affected the entire Upper Midwest the day before. After a lengthy delay, the airline eventually booked me on a plane that was headed to Denver, and assured me that my luggage would meet me in Fargo once I made it home.
Trouble is that I landed in Denver on a Saturday, and I wouldn't make it home for four more days. ... And you guessed it ... my luggage certainly was not transferred to the same flight to Denver.
So, after a 17 hour travel odyssey, I wound up in a hotel adjacent to Denver International Airport feeling sweaty, stinky and with no clothes or tooth brush or CPAP.
And while the situation certainly wasn't what I expected, nor what I wanted, that night I knew it was where I was supposed to be because of what happened that day in Denver.
Coincidentally, while at the Texas convention that week, I had been working on a sermon about where Jesus "stays" -- in a figurative sense -- for the Sunday service when I returned home. That service also ended up being canceled because of the massive, multi-day blizzard, but I don't think the sermon prep went to waste.
In the gospel text -- John 1:38-41 -- for that particular Sunday, two disciples ask Jesus where he is staying. He answers, "Come and see." ... And that, to me, is an invitation to open our eyes and see the places in the everyday moments where Jesus is "staying" ... or dwelling ... or breaking in ... or showing up.
Well, anyway, that was what I was going to preach about that Sunday at church, if I would have been home and we would have had church.
But on this occasion, Jesus decided something differently for me. And his desire for me that day wasn't about preaching, it was about doing. And that day he showed me that he -- as was I -- was staying right there in Denver.
Here's the story ...
So, after getting to Denver, and eventually learning that my connecting flight to Fargo was cancelled, I headed to United Airline's Customer Service to figure out my options. (And by the way, let's just be honest here: Anyone who flies knows that those customer service people don't get paid enough. ... Just sayin'. The airlines need to kook them up!)
After an hour in line, I learned that I was on standby for the last and only flight headed back to Fargo that night. But the chances of me making it on the plane were slim at best.
Now, at that point, it was only about 8 hours into the odyssey, so I was bummed, but not heartbroken. There was still a chance that I might make it home that night after all!
But just as I came out of the line, I saw a woman, sitting alone, in a bank of chairs just outside of the Customer Service Center, and she was broken.
I mean you could tell she was crushed, and not the kind of trivial, I've-been-delayed crushed. ... I'm talking human breakdown broken.
So I stopped over to ask if she was OK. ... After a few moments she told me that she had missed her plane going to Oregon by 10 minutes earlier this morning. Her plane coming in from Madison, Wis., was late into Denver by 10 minutes, and she missed her plane.
And this is what hit me with the force of a punch to the gut: That 10 minutes meant that she missed her brother's funeral that was scheduled for that day.
Making matters worse: The funeral was for the second of her only two siblings, and her other brother was murdered years ago. So the trauma of missing her brother's funeral that day was multiplied.
I ended up sitting with her, and I reached into my bag and brought out a small, wooden "comfort cross" that I carry with me for just such cases. ... And I asked her if she would like it. She said yes, and she gripped it for all she was worth.
I spent the next couple of hours with her until the airline was able to get her on another flight. And while I know we'll never see each other again, I know that day I saw where Jesus was staying. And it was right there in Denver. ... And I am perfectly OK that it took me four more days to get home.
That will forever be one of the most poignant pastoring moments of my journey. ... And it reminds me that, yes, while Jesus would have been in church with us that next day had I made it home. However, Jesus was with the woman and I that day in the Denver airport, and there wasn't a church within miles.
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