The Shoeshine Kit

I called Natalie and Nick to the floor of my bedroom: it was time for their first shoeshine lesson. In one hand, I held an old sheet of newspaper; in the other , the well-worn shoeshine kit. As I laid everything out on the floor and carefully opened the box, I could sense their excitement – this was something new and almost holy. I think they also felt my awe in teaching them something so menial and yet, somehow so spiritual. The smell of shoe wax wafted from the opened cedar box – a breeze of days long past and almost forgotten.

I sent Natalie to my closet for my black dress shoes. When she returned I began placing the contents of the kit on the newspaper – the large brush came first followed by the two smaller ones, one with soft bristles stained brown the other black. “Can I try?” they both asked, each picking up a brush and gently rubbing it against their soft skin. Memories shimmered in my mind and I paused to savor each one.

The well-stained buffing cloths came out next; each one bearing earth tone smudges of shoes shined to mirror brightness. Natalie picked up an old stained toothbrush, a question unspoken on her lips. I answered her quizzical look with an explanation and a demonstration. Closing the box and latching the lock, I asked her to place and hold a shoe on the stand affixed atop of the lid. I opened the newly purchased canister of shoe polish, gently brushed the surface of the paste, leaving swirled scars in the shiny black surface. “That smells good,” one of them said. I applied the paste to the scuffed black dress shoe in small circles, dulling the shine. I want to try, Natalie said, reaching for the brush. I held the shoe in place for her and guided her hands, teaching the swirling motion – gentle, soft swirls all along the surface of the shoe.

When we finished, Nick wanted to try a buffing brush. I asked him to choose the softest brush. Using the larger brush, I demonstrated the proper technique and quickly brought the dull surface to a shimmering brightness. “Now it’s your turn,” I said, passing the shoe to him. Half of his arm was swallowed by the large shoe as he tried to hold it just as I had done. He carefully, though clumsily, tried to imitate my quick strokes across the shoe surface. After a few misses and a few collisions, he finally got the smooth motion down. He buffed the shine even brighter.

The shoes were finished way too soon. “Let’s do some more,” Natalie exclaimed while skipping back to my closet. “I don’t have any brown polish Nat,” I called after her. “I’ll have to buy some this week.” The old cans in the bottom of the box were dry, hard and useless. Nick picked up a few cans to check the rattle inside.

I tried to explain to them the significance that my childhood experience of shining shoes with my dad now meant to me. I do not think they caught the depth of meaning it had for me – in fact I really hadn’t noticed it before until the smell of polish wafted through the room.

The day after Thanksgiving as we were carrying the last bits of luggage and “stuff” to the van mom called, “Nathan, do you want your dad’s shoeshine kit?” “Sure,” I replied, without really thinking about it. She met me in the kitchen, “here it is.” When my hand closed around the worn wooden handle the memories came flooding back bringing with them a sudden wave of grief. I turned and winced, tucking another load of “stuff” under my arms while quickly walking back towards the car, seeking to hide my filling eyes from others in the room.

I knew mom had cleaned out dad’s closet and given away most of his clothes in recent months as she sought to deal with her grief as well as clean up some of the clutter that he had collected over 47 years of marriage. She had even tried to give me some of his newer shirts a month or so back. I didn’t think long about it, “no thanks.” They would have just hung in my closet unworn this season until I eventually gave them to Goodwill or the Potter’s House.

The switch from “going to Macon to see my folks,” to “going to Macon to see mom” has not been so hard to make. Yes, I still tear up at times when looking at his picture in my office – he too was a campus minister. The shot I have is of him at his desk, deep in conversation with someone unseen. I miss him most when I want to share a new discovery or success in ministry. I want to give him a call when I have a problem and I need a wise, sympathetic ear. My grief has come in small ripples. It has not yet – if it ever will – flooded over me, drowning me in sorrow or immobilizing pain.

Nevertheless, the shoeshine kit affected me with a warm grief, a good grief – not the cold, lonely kind. The box not only holds the tools to make scuffed shoes look great, but memories of a joyous childhood, sitting on the floor with dad on Saturday evenings, shining our shoes for church the next day.

Over the past 5 months, I have thought about dad a great deal. I’ve tried to recall both good times and bad. I have tried to remember the lessons he taught me as his oldest son, lessons I never want to forget. In these months, I have also tried to remember his words and actions that as a dad I do not want to repeat with my children. Many of those words I only remember as they come out of my mouth!

I hope to make memories with my kids that are lasting. I hope that many of the experiences we share, great and small, will be indelibly marked in their minds by something as simple and yet profound as the smell of shoe polish. I hope they will learn lessons from me that I learned from dad – no matter how scuffed up life makes us, we can always be polished and made fresh again. Moreover, often the scars, though painful at the time are the very things that give us character and strength. It is often not what happens to us that matters most, but what we do with what happens to us that really matters. I want to learn from dad’s life. I want to remember.

I think I will be polishing my shoes a bit more now – whether or not they need shining!

It worked!

Yesterday morning, just as I was posting the last entry my wife got a call from the Bible Study leader at our church asking her to lead "tomorrow's" lesson. My wife wasn't available, so I readily agreed to lead the time. I saw it as a chance to try out my "epiphany."
It worked! I got some really funny looks when explaining to the gathered university professors, vets and teachers my thoughts about the way we have been doing Bible Study. However, they were willing to try (I think they were just glad to have someone lead the group - it let them off of the hook!). We began with the Old Testament lesson that would soon be read in corporate worship. I asked my wife to read the long passage through and then for someone else with another translation to read the same passage as soon as the first was finished. There was an odd pause at the conclusion of the readings. I didn't want to have to ask for comments or to give any further instructions, but this being the first time we had tried this approach I thought it best to ask, "does this passage resonnate with anyone's experiences, life, plans or....." I was hoping for a short period of silence - something we Baptist are not used to or fond of in worship or our discussions. However, one of the members quickly jumped in with a very practical experience from the day before. We had some lively discussion as folks were connecting with the rather odd passage about bringing our first fruits to the priest to be given to God. After 10 or so minutes of discussion we jumped to the New Testament reading. We read it in a similar manner. The disscussion picked up on the similar themes in both readings. Soon we were sharing about our lives and how, especially at Thanksgiving we should be reflective of how our lives are lived out gifts brought to God daily, giving God the best of all we are and do, not just from our checkbooks. I said some things to wrap up and offered a prayer of thanksgiving and we headed into worship.
I hope that the others in the class made the same connections to the scriptures as they were read during the corporate worship time. The hour had new meaning as we sang, prayed and read those same passages. When we came the sharing of communion I was able to see my life as a gift brought to God not alone, but as a dad, a member of the body of Christ and as one who is a result of whole Bible story, from my ancient grandparents Abraham and Sarah through to my brothers and sisters in Christ who play out the Gospel narrative.

aah, Saturday Morning....

it's a wonderful, rainy, lazy Saturday morning. My family was slow getting out of bed and coming down for our usual morning around the table chatting and reading the paper together. We finished off the time with heaping plates of blueberry pancakes - yum! Of course I was up early. I suppose that's the result of getting older and having too much spinning in my head at any one time. After heading the wrong direction after leaving the Omni Hotel in Atlanta last night, I ended up in who-knows-where on the southwest side of Atlanta. I still don't know how I got where I was. Anyway, instead of getting home at 10:30 it was closer to 11:30. I had lots on my mind as a result of the conference I had attended over the last two days. Not that the conference was that informative, but my thoughts and reading did stretch me.
These days I've been thinking about being a follower of Jesus outside of the normal church experience. It seems we have confused our religious pursuits - church - from being a Christian. While hiding in the sanctuary or refuge of our church buildings (we have become like Quasimodo running from the soldiers in The Hunchback of Notre Dame crying "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!") we are missing the changing world outside of our doors. I wonder if we'll be able to reconnect with those that aren't within the walls with us? I wonder if anyone really wants to?
I've been reading some great books that have really challenged my traditional thinking about how to do church and be a minister to church members and to those who don't do church. I don't know that I can make the switch from being a desk jocky with my faith to someone who is out of the box, seeking God in all of life and trying to make God-connections for folks where ever I go. I'd like to - but I sometimes find that I don't know what to say to folks that don't do the church thing, that don't know churchspeak. I've so cloistered myself for so many years that I wonder if I have anything in common with anyone not in my church club? It's all rather frightening, actually. I've got to find some ways hang out with folks not in my world - just to stay sane. Now that I've noticed the dichotomy I must do something to change before it's too late. What - that's the question that woke me up this morning. It's OK to read about making the switch - but actually stepping out and doing some things to change my point of view? That's a bit tougher....

...an epiphany of sorts

I’ve just had a revelation or an epiphany – everything about the Bible is now different for me. The Bible was never intended to be studied by individuals, but to be read and applied by the gathered community of God. The Bible is God’s revelation of Godself to the Church, the gathered community of believers! His word to us, not to me! It can only be properly understood, digested and applied in community. Looking back on the way the canon came into being and the way the early documents and letters that now make up the Bible were disseminated, it was mostly in communal settings, churches, families, folks getting together to read a fragment here and a letter there. It is only since the invention of the printing press and the resulting spread and availability of books that individuals own Bibles for personal (only) use. I think this is a mistake of modernity of the highest degree. We dissect God's word instead of letting it dissect us! We have become the ones who control the Bible (and thus God's work in our lives) instead of allowing God to control and change us from within the community.

I’m intrigued by the Quakers. I think they’ve got it right on many matters, especially on worship and the speaking of the Holy Spirit to the gathered community of believers. I think I’m going to adapt some of their methods in my Bible Studies for the rest of this year to see what happens.

Starting next week I’m not going to teach my Bible studies (one with a group of guys working through Mark and the other with our senior students in First John). We are going to try a new approach – read a section or chunk, mediate on it and see what God says in response to us as individuals and as a group to apply it to our lives, community, group, etc: No critiquing the work; No analysis; Just our response to God’s word in our lives and community. We’ll see how it works. It’s a very postmodern approach. We’ll teach each other. The focus is not to glean information, but to do spiritual formation – to become more like Christ in all aspects of our lives.

I journal - every once in a while - so I can look back and figure out where I've been on this journey of life and so my kids may be able to one day avoid some of the silly miss-steps I've made along the way. I've read other's blogs over the years. Now I've decided to do more than just make comments on their sites and give a go at my own. Join me for the trip!

5th annual UGA BSU Ride for Christ!

267 Miles in 3 days!