Invisible II: Incarnation

I posted parts of this somewhere else first, but I kind of wanted to put it here, too.

It's always interesting to me when things just make sense. Sunday morning, Curt's sermon was on John 1:1-2, the Word became flesh. That night, it was on invisible people and Matthew 25:31-46. Somewhere between the two, the message became alive.

That morning, I met Kevin.

My guess is that Kevin is in his early thirties. I met him because I have a habit of sitting at the far end of the pew (I like to have an armrest) and suddenly, I found myself sharing the armrest with someone: Kevin.

I tend to sit close to the front, in the first 5 rows or so usually. Sunday I was closer than normal, in the third pew. (My "usual" spot was taken.) Sometime after the first songs and the few minutes where everyone greets everyone else, but before communion, Kevin wheeled himself down in the middle of one of the songs and parked next to me, propping his arm up by mine. He swung his head toward me and said, "Hi. My name's Kevin." Definitely got my attention because the rest of the auditorium was silent, pre-prayer, listening to the devotional thought before communion. So I did the only thing I know to do when someone introduces himself to me. I shook his hand and told him my name.

Kevin stays at the KDS (King's Daughters and Sons) home in downtown Memphis. KDS is an assisted living community for disabled adults, similar to the HDC cottage in Conway, AR in which my aunt Genave lives. The KDS home is located in downtown Memphis right now, but is soon to move to Bartlett on Appling Road in mid-September. I don't understand, but this move apparently makes some Bartlett citizens uneasy. I guess I could understand if the prison relocated to the backyard of Bartlett, but the reaction to this kind of confuses me. I look forward to it, though, because we have a sort of 'mission' team that goes to KDS each Sunday to conduct services out there. Right now, I'm not comfortable enough driving in Memphis to drive to McLemore where it's currently located. But I can make it out to Appling.

So I met Kevin and he immediately asked me to be his pen-pal (and I will write him) and also tried to hold my hand. (In the course of 15 minutes, he developed a schoolboy crush.) I told him we could be friends and that I'd write him, but that I'd get his address after the last song. So after each song, he'd ask me if it was the last one yet. I pointed out to him on the bulletin where we were in the service and showed him how much longer till the last song. Afterward, I wrote down both his current address and his future address which he proudly told me he's already memorized, spelling out the street names.

Kevin is someone whom the world (and sadly, the church) is content to let be and to let remain invisible. It's less complicated that way. Initially it may be hard to get past the more obvious differences, the wheelchair, the too-thin legs, even the drool. I wonder what it is about people like this that make others uncomfortable. In any initial meeting, we wade through a host of differences between ourselves and the other person without even thinking about it. But somehow, differences like this stop us short.

After church, someone told me I'd done "a good job" and someone else said God had probably sent him my way, knowing I'd know how to "deal" with him. I didn't know what to say at the time, but the words set wrong with me. It isn't a job to make someone feel more comfortable or welcome. It's a command. And Sunday, it was my privilege. I sometimes think if Christ were going to pop up among us today, he would quite possibly be just like Kevin, someone who's different enough to make others uncomfortable.

And as to God having sent him my direction, I think it's true -- but not for the reasons this person did. I've been praying for God to kind of shove me lately -- out of my comfort zones, out of my introversion, out of my personally preferred invisibility. (Comes with being an introvert, I think). Sunday, I think Kevin was part of his answer.