Josh's Journey Through The Silence: Spirituality In The Making

Following the pastoral prayer, the minister of music prepared to lead the people in a hymn of praise. As the pastor reflected upon the worship service and the sermon he was to preach, his mind drifted to the text for his sermon. It was the first passage of scripture he had heard read from the Bible. Because of the confusion it had caused in his life, he had refused to preach from this text.

After 40 years of preaching, he had often wondered if he was yet ready to preach on the text. What did he hope would happen as he preached? He began to think about the people who had gathered.

He realized, for the first time, he did not know many of the people, though he had pastored this congregation for 15 years. Oh sure, he knew most of them by name and many details about their lives, but he did not really know them. What were their real spiritual needs? How well did they really understand the Christian faith?

The church and community had changed since he began his pastorate. There was a lot of unrest in the community. Many in the church were unhappy and restless. Spiritual issues were abundant.

What would the people sitting before him receive on this day? Was the outcome of this service his responsibility? Would his sermon be too offensive, dry and dull, or would it speak to people? A very pressing and disturbing question entered the mind of the pastor: "Why are you here?"

The old pastor remembered a young man, Josh, who at the age of twenty-nine had walked into church one Sunday morning. A social worker had told Josh about her church and had been encouraging him to attend. She had told him he needed the fellowship. On that morning, he knew he needed more than fellowship.

Josh had been awakened on that Sunday morning to the sound of rats scurrying about the attic. Josh sat on the edge of his bed and looked around the room. A little metal kitchen cabinet stood over in the corner. Sitting next to it was a stove that was unused because there was not enough money for gas or food. Two empty chairs sat at the small rusting dinette set. The couch had come from a garage sale--the owners had given it to him to haul away. Somehow, he had managed to hang on to the old handmade rocker that his grandfather had made for his mom.

As he heard a faint cough from the other side of the room, he glanced over at the bed where his dying mother lay. There was no money to take her back to the doctor, much less buy any medicine. How would he bury her when she died?

As a heavy cloud of pity and depression crept into the room, he began to dress and slipped out the front door, the only door. The run-down shanty sat alone just outside of the growing city, with its prospering industries.

Josh no longer paid attention to the nice cars he had once admired as he walked across the railroad track and followed the road into town. No one seemed to notice him as he walked into the suburb that reflected a lifestyle he had never experienced.

Josh painfully looked at the children playing in the yards along the streets. He could smell the aroma of grilled food and he heard the splashing of water as people began to celebrate the goodness of life. He continued down the street where he had once dreamed of living and raising a family. He knew that the hope of giving his mother a nice room to call her own would never be a reality. Josh paid no attention to the young couples as they walked, washed their cars, played with their children, and laughed with joy.

As Josh entered the church, he became fully conscious of himself. Seemingly, every head turned his way--with very inquisitive looks. Worship had already started, and he stood embarrassed because he did not know what to do. The people waited for him to do something. He felt like the congregation disapproved each thought and action as he awkwardly looked around.

While reaching for the door in order to flee, a frail but elegantly dressed man ushered him into the balcony. As he looked at the visitor's card that quickly appeared in his hands he trembled. He struggled to complete it--he wondered if the woman with the hat, who sat next to him, would notice he could not spell the name of the street where he lived. Perhaps the young boy who peered over the back of the seat would not notice where he lived. The boy moved away quickly.

The strangeness of the church was confusing. With drooping shoulders and a heavy sadness in his heart, tears filled Josh's eyes as the offertory plate moved down the pew. He could only look in shame and disbelief. He had never seen that much money.