He had a
smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye as I entered the room and introduced
myself. Mr. Cook (not his real name, of
course) was preparing for surgery that he hoped would give him a new lease on
life so I encountered him in a reflective state of mind. He confessed that he was a former pastor who
had “given up a great church and left the ministry many years ago to tend to an
ailing parent.”
Through
the years he had continued to reflect on his pastoral experiences and now they
seemed to provide a sense of purpose for his upcoming surgery. “I’m not sure I’ve done much with my life
these last few years. It’s mostly been
about me. This may sound strange but
only after it all did I realize what a privilege it was to share the darkest
and most challenging times with people.
I guess I really didn’t do much.
I would just show up – and listen…and, you know, stand in the gap with
‘em. I think I’d like to do that again.”
Standing
in the gap is a great way to describe much of what is done here at the
hospital. As clinical professionals you
stand in the gap between pain and comfort.
As behind-the-scenes support staff, you stand in the gap between
frustration and peace of mind. As a
chaplain I stand in the gap between busy treatment plans and a patient’s
longing to be seen and heard more fully.
Regardless of our job titles we find ourselves standing in the gaps
between isolation & community, shock & acceptance, and hopelessness
& meaning.
It takes real courage to enter these
uncomfortable in-between spaces with patients, their families, and our
colleagues but as we do, we come to realize that holistic healing requires more
than medical expertise – it requires compassion and generous listening. The simplest of gestures – just being there
and being you – can make a difference, maybe even be enough. I hope you find it reassuring to know that
while your expertise may be what helps mitigate pain, it is your presence, your
willingness to stand and serve in the gap that reduces suffering. Thank you for all that you do to make this a
place of healing no matter the prognosis or outcome.
This brief
reflection was originally printed in the staff newsletter at the hospital where
I completed a 12-month chaplain residency.
Fortunately, my divinity school experience offered a complementary
balance of classroom education & field learning - thinking & doing -
which required me to use, & begin to integrate, my head & my heart. A core requirement in most divinity school/seminary
curriculum is called systematic or constructive theology. The title suggests a lofty aim. John Calvin spent more than 1600 pages outlining his best articulation of “an orderly,
rational, & coherent account of Christian faith & belief.” And there have been many great minds
throughout the centuries from Augustine to Aquinas to Schleiermacher who tried their hand at this formidable task.
So, as you might guess I did not produce a theological magnum opus
during my four brief years of professional studies. And, in many ways my time at the bedside revealed,
for me, the futility of such an ambition.
I don’t wish to disparage the great theologians as I benefitted greatly
from reflecting on their methodical consideration of critical elements of
religious faith. Instead, what I find
myself mulling over now are a seemingly random hodge-podge of important
insights & poignant experiences that require further reflection. I’ll call them “fragments of light.” And standing in the gap is the first of
these I offer for your consideration. It
is my hope that as I ruminate on these “a-ha” moments, these glimpses of the
divine, these momentary connections to a “ground of all being”, I may begin to assemble these pieces into something resembling a theological
mosaic. And I’ve learned that this messy
process qualifies as “doing theology.”
We can all claim the title of theologian when theology is rightly
understood as “God-talk,” as a consideration of ultimate concern.
Simply put – God is love – and standing in the gap is an act of love.
And
so I walked away from this encounter with Mr. Cook with the commitment to recognize
the gaps that present themselves and to stand in them with those I
encounter. We all have gaps in our
lives. We all have opportunities to
stand in the gap with others – yes, family & friends but also neighbors and
total strangers. Singer-songwriter Lori
McKenna, in her song “Falter,” implores us to stand in the gaps upon which we stumble. “Why don’t we open up? Knowing that we all falter. When will we learn, when will we learn, to
reach out for each other?”
Indeed, when will we learn that we are only good enough...together?
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