GOLDEN
I’m about a third way through Theo of Golden.
No spoilers please.
And I don’t think I’ll be offering any spoilers here but just in case, tread carefully. But I don’t think I’ll be mentioning anything that’s not in the official summary of the book.
Theo is a newcomer to the town of Golden and begins buying pencil portraits hanging in a local coffee shop, returning each one to the person in the drawing. In return, he asks them to share their story.
As I read (or hear, since I’m listening to the audiobook) the conversations taking place between Theo and the recipient, I can’t help but think this is an integral part of ministry; of my call.
What Theo is essentially doing is restoring the Imago Dei (Image of God) in the people as he hands them their portrait.
Theo tells them what he sees — which is usually something the recipient hasn’t seen for a long time or has never seen in themselves.
But Theo’s gentle, yet persuasive, manner urges them to see beyond their limitations and see them as they really, and truly are: a human being.
Theo’s backstory is still a big mystery at the point I’m at. A little about his story has been revealed here and there, but for now, we’re living through Theo helping people rediscover their image of God, ergo rediscovering themselves.
There’s an interaction between a reporter and Theo that solidified for me this is a big part of what we’re called to do: help people see beyond their perceived limitation; beyond titles/labels given to them by others or, worse, themselves and to see how beautiful they are despite and in spite of their lived experiences.
I also caught myself thinking, if I had the resources that Theo has, I’d do that exact same thing.
Every once in a while, I’ll (more earnestly than joking, but fairly even) pray for God to give me a chance to prove how generous I am by winning the lottery.
I found myself making that semi-joke-semi-serious prayer after the chapter with Theo and the reporter: God, if I had the means… I could really do some good work like Theo. Give me a chance to prove how generous I can be.
Which really, is the excuse of “Not yet, God. Just let me get to a point where….”
It’s a delay tactic to remain passive in a world that can no longer afford people being passive when it comes to love, grace, hope, joy, peace, and all them other good things. Just another excuse piled on top of all the excuses already made.
That’s a trap that I fall into a lot — and I think many of us do. (Btw, I’ve been wary of using em dashes because of how fond AI is of em dashes. I’ve used em dashes — maybe to a fault — before AI came around and trying to jack my style. I’m reclaiming it. I like em dashes and I like ellipses… and I liked it when AI was only in movies and sci-fi stuff).
When I want to do something, I want to do it with a bang; with panache; with flair; in a way that is impossible to ignore… like using 10,000 drones to create the image of Jesus for concert goers.
But when I dive deeper into that desire to do something that has immediate and noticeable impact… if I’m honest with myself, it becomes more about me than God.
Look what I did.
Look at how people are responding to what I (or we) did.
Sure, it’s about Jesus but also, pay attention to the messenger! Not to kill him, but to praise him for his efforts!
I had the tremendous honor and privilege of meeting Ben during the twilight of his life.
My favorite story about Ben (an alias) is included in the book I’m writing, with permission from his family, of course. So I won’t be telling that story.
But there was a story that Ben’s cousin told me after Ben left us that reminded me of a few things:
1) Waiting for the “right” moment when it comes to the kinship and kingdom of God is purely and simply an excuse.
2) We have everything we need to make an impact in someone’s life right here, right now.
Ben’s cousin moved Ben into his house for hospice care. I got to visit with Ben a few times and each time was so meaningful to me.
When my first visit with him was winding down, I gave him my cellphone number so that if he needed anything, he could text me. Or if he wanted someone else to talk to besides his cousin, call me or text me.
I even texted him once because I was talking about how his city has one of the best sports team logo and name: San Antonio Chanclas (right behind Rocket City’s Trash Panda).
I mean, I didn’t think much of it. I wanted to stay connected to him. I wanted him to stay connected to me. Why not give him my number?
Apparently, he was ecstatic that a pastor gave him his personal number.
I think Ben attended a large church and perhaps he had never gotten the pastor’s contact info or whatever — I’m conjecturing here. But he told all of his friends that he received the personal cellphone number of a pastor.
Cousin told me just how much he talked about getting my number.
I hope you know me well enough that I’m not haring this story as a “look at meeee! I did good!”
Instead, I hope you can see how we can be a blessing to others with what is already in our possessions.
Sometimes, (a lot of times) blessing others don’t even have to involve possessions.
Don’t ever underestimate the small things — the doable things — that are in front of us.
Alan Hirsch described “blessing” as helping someone to breathe easier, even if it’s for a fleeting moment. Helping someone breathe easier can involve big, monumental impactful things… like taking care of someone’s rent or bills.
But helping someone breathe easier can be as “small” as sending a meaningful text; delivering some food; actually hearing someone pour their heart out…
The problem occurs when we discount those things as “not enough” and therefore don’t do them at all (I’m talking to you, Joseph Yoo).
As Mother Teresa once said,
Do small things with great love.
I have to remind myself over and over and over to not overlook the small; mundane; ordinary things. That’s where we encounter God most of the time because that’s when we’re actually paying attention.
Quoting another profound human being:
“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Most (dare I say all?) of the opportunities to be a blessing — to help people feel seen; loved etc — are already right in front of us.
Your visit with Ben, it hits. Not because it was grand, but because it wasn't. A phone number. That's it. And he told everyone. Which says less about the gesture and more about how rarely people in his world had been treated like someone worth calling. That's the uncomfortable part hiding inside a sweet story.
This is so spot on, and you will love the rest of the story. Mostly. I turned right around and re-read it. ... and you've named something I struggle with: I want to be of service to others, to be helpful, generous - and it's nearly impossible for me to separate that motivation from wanting to be seen as helpful and generous. We are all a work in progress.