What I Learned on my Summer Vacation

The big question I’m getting a lot these days is “what did you learn at CPE?” I’m never really sure how to answer that question. What did I learn? I learned a lot of things. Some meaningless (all the verses of Alexander’s Ragtime Band), and some profound (how liturgy continues to give meaning to people with Alzheimer's Disease long after their other memories fail). I learned I am uncomfortable in group processing, I learned meeting new people never gets easy, no matter how many times a day I do it. I learned a lot about myself. But I think the biggest thing I learned in CPE is it does not really matter what I learned about myself, because in the end I am not the one that matters. In the end, God breaks through in spite of me, not because of me. My job is simply to be present.

One of the most powerful moments of my summer happened standing outside of the ICU unit at Alexandria Hospital. As I stood there staring at the menacing grey metal doors, I felt completely and totally unprepared for what was on the other side. I stood leaning against the wall for a few moments, my mind racing. What was I, I wondered to myself, twenty-five years old, first year seminarian, going to do that was at all helpful. I didn’t even really know the woman I was visiting. She had been my welcome wagon person, and when I ran into her in the halls she would ask about my upcoming sermon. Other than that, we had no interaction. Why was I even here? What was I supposed to do? Who did I think I was? And then there was a voice, not one of those deep, God voices but my own voice, coming from within my chest. The voice, my voice, rang out, “I don’t know what you're supposed to be doing here either, but whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing here, you’re not going to do from this side of the door.” And with that, I walked in.

What I realized that day was what I brought through the door had nothing to do with my abilities. It did not matter who I was, what I knew, or how good my game plan was. My presence as “chaplain” served as a reminder that God was already present in the midst of crisis. As long as I was willing to walk through the door and be used, God was already in the room wanting to use me as a reminder of God’s presence. Thanks be to God, who uses such simple and broken tools as humanity to accomplish God’s work in the world.