Thank You For Remembering Me Then

Pastor Dave,

 

You may not remember me. I attended your church for awhile when I was married, after leaving another church in your town. Sometimes I would see you at the library where I worked and we would talk about books we both had read. We, of course, ran into each other at Culvers. I've heard it said that if you sit long enough next to the Trevi Fountain in Rome the entire world will go by. You know that in the town we lived in, Culvers was our Trevi Fountain. It doesn't matter if you remember me now because the thing I want to thank you for is remembering me then.

 

In the beginning of a dark spiritual moment of my life, you took the time to make me feel known.

 

The first time I came to Central, you walked out into the congregation, per usual, greeting people, shaking hands and hugging them. After you had spoken to us and walked away, I broke down sobbing. I have grown up around ministry my whole life. My family are pastors, preachers, etc, you name it. Until I was 28, my life was one ministry role after another. That was the first time someone had just acknowledged me for being there, not for what I could bring to the table. That's a harsh sentence. I don't mean it bitterly. Ministry and church building is a hard thing and when you see someone with an ability or abilities it is normal to want to use those. I get it and don't judge anyone for their actions. I've done the same thing.

 

Thank you for looking at broken people and loving them. Right there in pew where they are.

 

That tiny act you do on Sundays may be one of the most impactful ones you make in your lifetime.  Maybe it doesn't feel like it, but it is changing the hearts of your community.

 

My life is radically different now. I've been through many dark things, including a divorce. I have been broken, shattered, burned down, left to be reborn from the ash and am now learning to pursue wholeness with all of me. Somehow in the midst of it, God is choosing to do something brilliantly unexpected. At the end of this week, I leave on a forty day roadtrip across the country to speak with forty people about the dreams they are living and the journey it has taken them on. A pilgrimage of people.

 

It all culminates in a book I'm writing called Mutiny of Dreamers. Today I just wanted to thank you for your tiny mutiny of making me feel known. In a world where it is easy to be seen by the masses, being known is the thing our soul longs for the most. Most of us don't realize there is even a difference. Thank you for knowing the difference and choosing to act on it. You have impacted my story. 

 

You are a dreamer who has taught me to mutiny well.