Joy in dark places.

It was the burden of death delayed. It was a new beginning waiting just beyond reach of that eternal door. With its approach was a weary sorrow.

Looking back, this is what I sensed when I visited a convalescent home years and years ago. I was a confusing mash of emotions trying to avoid suffocation under an intense weight of hopelessness. It was one of the most dreadful places I have ever been to. Walking down the hallway, I peered into a multitude of rooms open to all observers. In them, elderly people had their diapers changed, drugs administered, meals delivered. Every event was a spectacle and it sucked up joy like a sponge.

Well do I remember the lack of life before my eyes as I entered the "living" room. It felt like residents had gone there to die. Almost every seat was filled with the breathing dead. The TV was on with its volume turned low so that every hushed word crashed around the silent room in deafening waves. Heads rolled to the side, eyes were glazed over and spittle flecked the shirts of those whose mouths lay open.

My mind's eye recalls it as a sea of gray. Yet, there was a bright spot that drew my eye immediately. It was a brilliant purple splotch on the gun metal canvas. As it turned out, the name of the splotch was Lois. She was bedecked with a beautiful, old style purple skirt and vest. Her shoes matched and were in prime condition. Even her hair was done up and on it sat a purple hat, suspended at a rakish angle on her silvery curls. She had not succumbed within those haggard walls!

It took some time for me to make it to where she sat though she was not my destination. First, the woman closest to the entryway slowly looked up at me and a flicker of life flashed across her face. To this day I forget her name, so I will have to make do with remembering the brightness that sprang into her eyes. I sat with her for a few minutes, made jokes and complimented her on her charming good looks. We laughed and the room began to stir. More heads came up and a particularly mindless individual began to babble at me and laugh quickly. His mind stayed lost, though his eyes were anchored to my face. I was being called to leave but felt that I had a great opportunity to inject hope into these lives.

I pardoned myself from the first lady and approached Lois who had beckoned to me. I sat with her for a couple of joyful minutes while stating that her purple dress really brought out her beautiful eyes. Her laughter shimmered. Sadly, it was time for me to excuse myself for good. Lois made me promise to return and as I left I wished God's blessings upon everyone in the room. All had awoken by this time and the TV no longer smothered their dreams.

Sadly, I made an abrupt departure and am not particularly happy to remember it. Much to my shame, though I could see the need for Jesus and His love in that place, I never returned. I never saw Lois again. I broke my word to her. The situation was simply too overwhelming for me having never experienced such a thing before. Also, my personal visions of grandeur were at odds with the extreme limitations before me. Still, no excuse is worthy to be made.

Having thought about this much over the years, I have come to some difficult, yet good conclusions. The goal, as Shane Claiborne states in his book Irresistable Revolution, "was not to keep people alive, but to allow people to die with dignity, with someone loving them, singing, laughing, so they were not alone." But what dignity could I have given just by myself? For that, Mother Theresa said, "We can do no great things, just small things with great love. It is not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it."

Even Jesus said that what we have done for the least of people we have done for Him. Learn from my (forgiven) failings. Love God in the small moments of everyday. Love His children and meet them at the point of their need. Bring them dignity with your love. We are an army of Davids and our small, tender works combined will change the world for Jesus. We are the light of Christ, called to bring His brilliance to a darkened world!

My testimony.

The extreme hypocrisy of the church and those within it has bothered me very much for decades and, in fact, I have left churches because of it. Still, Jesus changed my heart by revealing to me that I am a hypocrite in need of salvation and by opening my eyes to the wickedness of those in the Bible whom He saved.

Peter betrayed Jesus. Thomas doubted. King David committed adultery and murdered the husband of the woman he screwed. Paul blessed the martyrdom of Stephen. Samuel messed around with foreign women. Jacob questioned God. And yet all are considered heroes of the faith. Why? Because Jesus had remained above reproach and lifted them up high above their sin in order to change their hearts. Jesus is not in the same class as all those I mentioned and thus I had to separate Him from the "sinners and hypocrites." To me, undefiled religion simply became a trust in the completed work of Jesus and a commitment to repentance and grace in my own life. He is not hypocritical and sinful and that is what matters.

I grew up in the Episcopalian church attending only a couple times a year on Christmas Eve and Easter (a "Chreaster"). That changed when the family moved and we started going every Sunday when I was 13. Attendance became my moral obligation (though I truly only went because there were a couple hot chicks there). I learned little about Jesus.

It wasn't until I was 20 and in the Marine Corps when a friend invited me to go to a church he had heard about. Being as religiously moral as I was, I went... and really heard the Good News for the first time. The second Sunday I was invited to the home of one of the families. At the end of that day I was invited to visit whenever I wanted to get off base. I took them up on it largely because they had a beautiful daughter around my age but also because I couldn't turn down such generous hospitality. Soon, I was visiting 3-4 times a week and almost every weekend and sleeping on the couch.

I became a member of the family for all intents and purposes and was blessed with all the fights that went with that! They are hot-blooded Italians and I am hot-blooded Irish. We were all dysfunctional. Yet, unlike my own family where we buried many of our problems, they aired their dirty laundry and dealt with it. When they sinned, they repented, sought forgiveness and gave the glory to God. A few months later, I realized that I was a changed man and openly proclaimed the name of Jesus. I did so because I saw that hypocrites could actually worship God in Spirit and Truth. It was amazing. That was eight years ago.

At this time, out of the Marines, I am renting a room in the house and still live with the family. The two oldest have moved out and the third will be leaving in a few months. The youngest has a few years yet. They are all my brothers and sisters and I could no sooner turn away from a God who has blessed me with such a testimony as I could tell my lungs to stop breathing. My faith has animated me and given me life through the grace of Jesus. He loved me in spite of the self-righteous man I was.