"Redemption"

Pastor Shulz was over at Katie's Diner a couple of days ago, having breakfast. They have a special there, three dollars and ninety-five cents for a full breakfast: two eggs, any way you like 'em, bacon, ham or sausage, toast or an English muffin, and coffee. He always gets some orange juice and home fries with hit, and still, even with the tip, gets out for under five dollars. A bargain like that is hard to pass by, and Pastor Shulz isn't one to pass by a bargain when it comes to food, and everyone at Our Redeemer knows that very well. If there is a possibility of food being present at an event, he'll generally be the first one to suggest it. The Lenten services this year had soup; this week, of course was St. Patty's Day, so there was corned beef and cabbage, even though there isn't an Irish name in the whole congregation. Every Saturday during Lent the men have breakfast together - something Pastor Shulz thought up last year. The Catholics, of course, have fish fries every Friday. On Good Friday, there is a pancake breakfast over at the Methodist Church. And almost every week, there's a spaghetti dinner somewhere in town. Pastor Shulz knows them all, as well as all the "specials" at every restaurant in town, of which there are only three of them: Katies, Ritas, and Gant's River Room, which is really more of a bar than a restaurant, but they have good Reuben Sandwiches, and Susan Gant makes a great bowl of chili.

Anyway, Pastor Shulz was having his breakfast when Wilbur Smith, one of the regulars both at Katie's and at Our Redeemer, came in. Pastor Shulz saw him heading across toward the counter, and motioned him to come sit with him.

"How are you this morning, Wilbur?" He already knew his reply: "Fine, long as it doesn't rain!" Of course, it was raining. If it was cold, he'd say, "Fine, long as it don't turn cold." Or if it was hot, "Fine ... " Well, you get the idea. It was just part of his greeting ritual. But, as Pastor Shulz thought about it, Wilbur was the kind of guy who looks at the ground to see if it's wet before he forecasts rain. He's a radical moderate, which, I suppose, is why he's Lutheran.

"Good to see Mark in church," Pastor Shulz told him. Mark is Wilbur's son. He's had a long history of drug abuse, and came back to stay with them after he got out of a stint in jail, where he'd also got "religion." The idea of him coming back had been frightening for Wilbur, and almost ended his marriage with Ellen, before he finally relented. He was one of those who was careful about what he said, but having said it, he usually stuck to his guns - and in this case he'd shot Mark right out of the house, with the instruction that he was never to come back. So swallowing his words was also bitter.

But it had been going pretty good. "It's hard, pastor," Wilbur confided in his friend. "He's been doing pretty good, but it's always like waiting for the other shoe to drop. I keep waiting for him to fall off the wagon. I count the money in my wallet every day to make sure he hasn't stolen any. If he's a few minutes late for dinner or out late, I assume he's out doing drugs. Every phone call, I expect it to be the police, saying they picked him up again. It's almost like it would be a relief for him to go back to his old ways. I know that sounds bad, but I just feel like it's just a matter of time."

Pastor Shulz thought a moment. "What if he didn't? What if he stays clean?" Wilbur looked somewhere over Pastor Shulz's shoulder, not at anything in particular, but just trying to focus on the possibility. "I don't know. I can't even think about that. He's disappointed us every time. You think he can really change?"

That's a good question, and it's one Mark keeps asking himself. Things haven't been easy, since he's come back. It's not just his dad - everyone in town seems to assume that he'll go back to his old habits. And the temptation certainly is there, 'though he doesn't want to. Sometimes, he thinks people would rather he fell off the wagon - that it would validate the label that he's had on him ever since high school and, in his thirties now, still can't seem to shake. He's become a kind of object lesson people use on their kids: "If you aren't careful, you'll turn out like Mark." If he shakes his demons, perhaps the kids would change their mind, and decide it's not so bad, being like him. So it seems that the town has a lot invested in his bad behavior.

Pastor Shulz has been one of the bright spots in his life, since he's been back. He called him up, just a few days after he got in town, and invited him to lunch. Mark thought that, perhaps, he was checking him out - maybe he wanted to see from what kind of demon he would have to protect the church's children. But it wasn't like that at all. They talked about what it was like in prison, the struggles he was facing, and Pastor Shulz told him that, any time he needed someone to talk to, or if he felt he was about to fall off the wagon, he should call - any time, day or night.

Since then, they've met regularly twice a week for lunch, and one night, after several weeks of not being able to find any kind of work, and being a bit fed up with his dad's lack of trust in him, he found himself overcome with the desire to escape - just a little bit of something - and it scared him so much that he called Pastor Shulz, who was over in five minutes flat. They went out to McDonald's, and had a burger and fries and a coke, and talked for more than three hours, until the place closed.

Sometimes the biggest roadblock to change is people's assumption that things can't change. We get so invested in the way things are, that it's hard for us to imagine something different and, even if we can imagine something different, something better, we're afraid of giving ourselves over to it, for fear of disappointment. But unless you're willing to die, Jesus said you'll never really live. Pastor Shulz isn't afraid of investing himself in someone like Mark, because he knows there are things worse than being disappointed and worse than failure. If you are too afraid of failure, you can never realize success. If you aren't willing to take the leap of faith, you'll never know whether God's hands will catch you.

Mark's not a good risk, that's for sure. But he's a risk Pastor Shulz is willing to take, because he sees some possibilities in Mark. Of course, he sees possibilities in everyone, because he looks at them a bit differently than others do - he's wearing God's glasses, and they've got an unusual tint, called "grace." And that's the way he sees the world.

And that's what's happening over at Our Redeemer Lutheran Church this week - a little congregation just over on the other side of Mt. Union, a church that doesn't seem like much in the eyes of the world, but which is, oh, so precious in the eyes of God.