The human moments of pastoral care
There’s something uniquely precious about being physically present with people.
Few responsibilities within the breadth of pastoral ministry strike me as more rewarding than calling on people in their different conditions of life. I’ve long subscribed to the notion that a sermon is only as good as a preacher’s last pastoral call. While this doesn’t mean a pastoral visit should ever serve a merely instrumental purpose, it does imply that the joy of connecting personally with other people brings tremendous depth, perspective, and richness to life.
I was in John’s hospital room late one evening because he called and asked for my presence. Sleepless the prior two nights, he was convinced I was the remedy for his restlessness. Upon sitting down, I realized that this visit had nothing to do with his surgery. John was interested in sharing what he called the “dark secret” that had been coiled up inside of him for decades: he had been sexually molested by a Catholic priest when he was young. Our conversation was sober but genuine. He poured forth painfully. By the time I left, I think I persuaded him to let go of any fanciful idea that a single person or conversation would resolve this trauma.
Midmorning the next day, while on my way to Verna’s house, John called to report that he’d slept pretty well. As for Verna, she was close to death. It was my luck to arrive in time to be greeted by her three adult children. At one point, I leaned over to stroke her 99-year-old face. Such smooth skin to bless. Her sons talked me through the family photos on the wall. I kept coming back to the one of Verna’s grandmother, born way back in 1856.
