Dishwasher

Fellowship Hall is a premier recovery center located in Greensboro, North Carolina. For over forty years, it has offered an excellent program of recovery to men and women who, with God's help, truly want to live their lives anew. Not only is Fellowship Hall blessed with a 120-acre campus and fine facilities, its staff members are as good as any in serving those beginning lives of recovery.

At Fellowship Hall, there is one staff member who knows the Big Book inside and out. He eats, breaths, and sleeps what it says. He lives as if his life depends of recovery, which, of course, it does. Each time I hear him speak, I am reminded of much I have forgotten over the years. He keeps it simple, brutally honest, and real. It is not all pretty, neat or tidy, but he can't afford the luxury of appearance. “This disease will kill ya’,” he often reminds, then proceeds to speak of the jagged landscape of sober living.

He is one of the giants of recovery for me, someone I feel blessed to know. I am so glad he is on the staff of Fellowship Hall. He washing dishes.

0's and 1's

“Granddaddy, I'm doing good in school,” the child, who still had work to do in English, said in the car to school.  “I’ve learned my multiplication table. I already know my 0’s and 1’s!” Trying not to laugh, the grandfather offered encouragement and later made an appointment to speak with his grandson’s math teacher.

The story, however, has entertained me since first hearing it. Although not gifted in math, even I know my 0’s and 1’s. Still, the boy’s pride was genuine, and it has since made me think about all the ways I am falsely optimistic.

When I succeed in creating a good painting, I sometimes think “I have it!” only to encounter someone who has spent her life painting, or see one of her works, and realize just how little I know.

When I read something by a noted theologian that I understand thoroughly, I marvel at how wise I have become, only to have a sunrise remind me how little I know about this world and the one who created it.

When my children and I click and I begin to line up for the father-of-the-year award, I am brought back to my knees when I say something belittling or demeaning.

When I win every game of family tennis and strut back to my car, only to watch people my age playing peers at a level beyond any I have known.

Yes, the 0’s and 1’s are good to know, but we cannot stop there. It is not a reason to feel badly about ourselves, just hungry to keep going. There are many more numbers and enormous joy waiting for when we master them as well. 

Renovations

For the last two years, the church I attend has been under construction. Built many years ago, it is an incredible structure, but is in need of extensive repairs and improvements. Knowing my love of churches, an architect-friend invited me to tour the renovations, and it was a memorable experience which taught me as much about faith as it did architecture.

We were shown around by the foreman and his apprentice, and their stories were as interesting as the building itself. While we climbed the many levels of scaffolding to reach the ceiling, they told of finding asbestos, and how removing it revealed countless leaks which had been undetected for years. (The repairs of which were not in the original budget.) Reaching the top, I touched windows I had only seen. I stood beside angels designed to hold the 450-pound lights, and was taken to the basement where we saw the new boiler and incredible air circulation system. We were told that when they removed the old system they found an old spring flowing, causing them to install a sump pump system which runs 24/7 to keep the foundation dry.

The tour was as extensive as it was overwhelming. Although, at the outset, the congregation agreed repairs and improvements were necessary, no one anticipated how many problems were going to be discovered, nor the unanticipated costs. As I exited the building, thinking of all the problems, my friend exclaimed: “What a fantastic building!” Although we had been on the same tour, we left with different reactions. I was grateful to be reminded of the building’s glory, not just its countless problems.

Part of me wished the renovation could have all been done with a fresh coat of paint, but the issues were more substantial than paint. It would have been tempting for the church’s leadership to ignore the problems, but eventually the problems would have made themselves undeniable (and more serious). To go inside was an act of courage, to do the work, an act of faith. Many who enter in a few months will not see half of what was done, but because of that unseen work countless others will worship here long after we are gone.

Like the renovation, we, too, need the courage to go inside. Yes, we know some of what we need to address, but we will also find other issues or problems we didn’t know existed. There will be times when we will wish we hadn’t made the journey, but we need the courage to go inside and faith to do the work. We need to be willing to climb up to the ceiling and down into the basement, regardless of what awaits us. We need to touch that which we have only seen, and ensure our foundation remains strong (and dry). Like walking inside a church under repair, we need to look at our lives of faith from a new perspective if it is to grow and thrive for years to come.