Give what you can

    This morning we had a visitor.  The nice white upper class congregation with whom I work had an unexpected visitor who brought with him an unexpected gift.  He appeared about thirty minutes before the service started.  I was sitting on a pew under the coat rack at the back of the sanctuary looking over what else needed to be done before we started at 10:30.  I smelled him before I saw him. He wandered through the door and sat next to me.  He is a large man whose face tells the story of a hard life.  His clothes told the tale of life on the streets.  The alcohol fumes which came off of him in waves spoke of a night with a bottle.  I turned and smiled at him.  He looked at me and asked if I would pray for him today.  "Absolutely, " I replied.  "What is your name?"  Confusion ran across his face, followed by puzzlement, followed by an outstretched arm with a hospital bracelet on it.  "Well, George (not his real name) I will be happy to pray for you in the service today."
   After a few more minutes of chatting, I said good-bye and headed off to my office to attend to the last minute details of Sunday morning.  One of our building people was standing in a nearby doorway watching George.  "We have seen him before," Leonard told me.  "He will stay until 2 or until we call the police."  I asked him to just let George stay.  He was welcome if he wanted to be there.
     When I came back in to start the service, George was still there sleeping.  He slept as the choir milled around him trying to get organized for the procession.  He slept through the announcement and subsequent cheering about the engagement of our choir director.  He slept until halfway through the Scripture readings.  Today there were many and interspersed with silence and hymns.
   When George awoke, he decided he needed to talk to me.  So, he lumbered down the aisle.  I could feel the anxiety level of the congregation rise.  He stood at the bottom of the steps as we sang. I went over to him.  He asked once again if I would pray for him.  I assured him I would in a few minutes.  Satisfied, he sat in the front pew, his bag of empties beside him.
    During the next hymn, George decided that he would keep time with music by rattling his bag of empty cans.  I couldn't help but grin at him.  He grinned back and shook them harder.  The service continued and George stood up each time we did and participated as best he could.  He sat there in the midst of us as we continued to read the story about the last week of Jesus' life.  The story felt different this year. It became richer and more powerful as George listened with us.
   Next,  came the time for the offering to be collected.  Several lovely middle aged women were in charge of passing the offering plates.  The woman on George's side was trying to politely pass by him so he would not be embarrassed.  George would have none of that.  He rumbled around in his bag and proudly placed an empty Hard Twisted Ice Tea can in the offering plate.  The woman holding the plate was clearly startled.  However, she graciously accepted it and then when he wasn't looking, she pulled it out.  She held it in her other hand until it was time for the offering to come forward.  I received the plates with George's can atop the pristine white envelopes with their twenties inside.  Tears threatened to leak out of my eyes as I looked at that can.
   George gave the best he had to offer.  It didn't matter if I could smell the booze from ten feet away.  It didn't matter if he really didn't understand what was happening.  He came for a prayer and responded from his heart.
    The prayers included him by name.  He smiled at me when I was finished.  At the end of the service, several people spoke to him. One of the men, an EMS guy, gently led him through the sanctuary for a cup of coffee.  I didn't see George after that.  He disappeared back onto the streets.
    We were blessed this morning by a gift from an unexpected visitor.  He gave us  more than he could imagine.  Who would have guessed that grace would come to us in that form.  Thank you, George for you presence among us today.