I had good excuses.
I avoided volunteering to work at a Joni and Friends Family Retreat for three years because I had good excuses. Plus, I was really busy.Only problem: that annual overseas opportunity (ministry!) was a flexible one. It could be planned anytime. So I really didn’t have a solid reason for skipping JAF. That’s embarrassing for me to admit, being a pastor and all, but I know I’m not alone in my confession.This summer it was different, dang it. That was depressing to me because my daughter absolutely loves working at JAF Family Retreats. I am very thankful to be the father of so selfless and unpretentious a 15-year old girl. So the prospect of her not being able to attend Family Retreat trumped my chicken heart and with a gulp I volunteered to go and be a worker, or Short-Term Missionary (STM), at a JAF Family Retreat.
Upon arrival at the Retreat, I felt intimidated. They led us through a day and a half of training before the campers arrived. It was designed to help us identify with people with disabilities and to better understand what it is like to be in a family touched by disability. After all, it looked like he had a pretty cush job (read, “not being attached to a camper”). That’s something I’m good at: talking, being the one to lecture others.him get the blessing this summer? I knew my daughter was watching, so I hung in there out of pride and put my checkbook away.
I heard stories of new STMs being so nervous that they fought nausea or dreamed of sneaking away in their cars before campers arrived. I could relate: as the training went on, I worried about all kinds of things. Among my concerns, (not in order of dismay): what if I gave my camper the wrong medication and hurt him? What if I had to change his.. you know, anything?Mainly, I wondered what on earth I was going to do with him for all those hours. Patience has never been my strong suit, and always being in charge I’ve never been challenged to concern myself with that. Go-getter that I am, I haven’t given As it turns out, God was gracious to me (as he has been over and over and over) in spite of my fear and pride. A nineteen year-old young man with Downs Syndrome, my camper was single-speed: slow. a round-trip walk to the far-off pool took up much of the afternoon’s allotment of free time. His mother confirmed that my camper was content 99% of the time, leading me to wonder, “Who is more disabled? I fell in love with the guy, who I affectionately called “J-Dawg.” I don’t know if I was much of a help to my camper during those five days, but he was a huge blessing to me.What I did get to do was hang out with a precious child of God, an angel in thin disguise. I spent time with his loving Mom and Dad, who themselves got a tiny break. Other STMs shared similar sentiments: I think of one fellow, an engineer, who like me was there out of guilt. But I have a picture of him taken five days later on the Retreat’s last day, minutes before the campers would leave, cradling his little camper in his arms.Many of the STMs, like my daughter, were teens. One or two made it clear at the training that they didn’t want to be there. It was remarkable to watch the transformation in their attitudes over the course of the camp. Every teen present – without exception – did a superb job of zeroing in his or her attention on their camper.Some of the STMs (see group photo of STMs, above) were paired with what are called “typical siblings.”
Other lessons: unless you get permission, don’t touch or talk to assistance dogs. Never, ever, ever again use the word “retarded.” Most of this pretty obvious once you think about it, which I never had.
The Retreat Staff was fantastic, especially the kooky ones. There, they showed us a number of helpful (and emotional) videos that helped us relate to persons with disabilities and their families. I cried like I’ve never cried during the “Father of the Bride” movies.
One training video in particular hit me like a locomotive: in it, a Joni and Friends staffer said that a huge percentage of people with family members who have a disability don’t go to church. Obviously, these people need churches. But, the staffer went on to say, more importantly: Churches need these people. How can we be a whole family of God unless we reach out and work at including people with disabilities? No, we have to go get them and be ready for them, because they don’t think we want them around. “But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." How could I have overlooked such a treasure?
I’ve come home eager to help families with disabilities through our church. (Hear that July 20, 2008 message -including my camper’s moving renditon of "Shout To The Lord" – here.) What the Lord puts together remains to be seen, but I’ve asked my congregation to forgive me for a huge blind spot in my ministry.
Because, thank the Lord, I have no more excuses.
Learn lots more at joniandfriends.org.