Friday, September 12, 2014

And now for something completely...bizarre

I've been in ministry for 14+ years.  I regularly work with people, which means I regularly see strange things.  Most don't merit storytelling, but I was recently reminded of one particular incident that is too bizarre not to share on an otherwise blah-looking Friday afternoon.  There is no moral or inspiring message to this story.  I'm not sure if I handled it right or not, but it's an incident that I'll never forget.

So it was the Sunday after Christmas, a Sunday when some folks figure the church must be closed, to recover from all the Christmas festivities.  In recent years, we've gone to 1 Sunday service on that day, to make the sanctuary seem vibrantly full, rather than being a let-down after the crowded Christmas Eve services.  Most of our regular ushers were gone, so we were making-do with the few worship assistants we had.  Erik had just finished reading the Gospel, and I was in the chancel, serving as Presiding Minister for the morning.  As the congregation began to sit down, a woman entered the front of the sanctuary and walked right up to him.  He asked if he could help her.  Chuckles came from a few worshippers, assuming there was a skit to follow. 

The woman said, "I'm here to preach!"  Big silence.  Erik said, "Well, today, I'm preaching, but if you'd like to sit down and listen, you're welcome."  Again, she said, "No, I'm here to preach!"  Then my dear husband said, "Pastor Jennifer will be happy to talk to you about that if you just step outside."  Gulp.  At the time, I was a young mother, working half-time, delighting in the fact that my half-time status meant I didn't often have to deal with the difficult situations that arose.  Yet here I was, leaving the security of the sanctuary to meet with this strange, insistent woman.  Alone.  I think when the congregation saw the deer-in-the-headlights look on my face, they started to realize that this wasn't something we had planned.

So I left the sanctuary and met the woman, who calmly asked me how she could get Erik and me booted out of the church, so she could preach.  Not knowing how else to respond, I told her it was a lengthy process, since the congregation had called us to be their pastors, etc.  I was surprised that she was talking about something so absurd in such a calm way, as if she was talking about the weather.  She said, "Can I take it to court?"  I said, "You could try."  She seemed satisfied with that and said, "Okay."  Then she started to tell me about how she'd been murdered the night before, describing in graphic detail what had happened to her.  I wanted to say that she looked remarkably good for someone who had been through all that the night before, though I held my tongue.  "Because I'm Jesus, you know," she said.  Okay.  It was at that time that two dear worshippers left the sanctuary to see if I needed any help.  I'm not sure they knew what we were dealing with, but they kindly spoke to her and listened to her, and she left shortly after.  Police officers we talked to after the incident said they knew who the woman was, and said she's got mental illness issues.

A year later, the same woman joined us halfway through another worship service.  She refused a bulletin and sat down.  During the sharing of the peace, I could see her starting to approach me, so I did the chicken thing and rushed back behind the altar, as if it was my shield from whatever this woman wanted to bring up in the middle of worship.  Oddly, it worked.  She sat down and was quiet for the rest of the service.  After the service, she made a bee-line for me, stood 3 inches away and told me she'd witnessed a murder the night before.  The people surrounding me gasped and looked panicked.  I said, "Did you call the police?"  She said, "No, there's a warrant out for me.  I'm not going to jail!"  I said, "If you call 911 from a pay phone, they won't know it's you, but you could report the murder."  She paused for a minute and said, "Okay.  Can I have a cookie?"  I gave her one, and she left.

I have absolutely no moral to this story, though I suppose it could be, "If you enter ministry, you'll never be bored."