Thursday, November 11, 2021
From the Sewer to Serving
by Bob Coleman
Jacque and met at 10 and 9 years old. We grew up, and married in Louisville, KY. In the early years of our marriage I worked at MSD: Metropolitan Sewer District. Jacque was a waitress at Jerry’s restaurant. My job at MSD was unequivocally the most foul job one could hold. I literally crawled the sewers of Louisville. Some on my stomach, some I crawled on my knees, and some I walked, that were so big, one could drive a semi truck through it. Literally.
When I share this truth with people, I usually get “How could you do that?” Or, “I could never do that.” I use to reply; “It’s a job.” And back then, it was. What I didn’t know then, but have grown to know and love today is; that that job was training me for ministry today. A ministry, that I have come to love and respect, as one of the greatest ministries one could serve. Hospital and Long Term Care.
You are probably wondering “How does one equate the two Bob.” Easy. They both are jobs that need to be done. And neither are for the squeamish or faint at heart.
While working at MSD, I also wanted to further my education and went to college. An interesting reality was quickly made to me. While in school I worked at ORMC: Orlando Regional Medical Center. And during those 4 years at that hospital, God showed me my ministry focus. The sick, the dying, and the elderly. You see, a truth that every man or woman who understands and loves the hospital ministry knows: loving, ministering, caring, and praying with the in-firmed, the sick and the dying; are ministries of the heart.
While rewarding in so many ways, hospital and home bedside visits are not for the faint, the squeamish, or the hurried. One has to be able to see past the tubes, the machines, past the blood and the scars; and at times, we must see beyond the anger, the God questioning, and the mental anguish.
I have personally been afforded the grace and privilege to visit many MANY people either at the side of a hospital bed, in a nursing facility, or at their beside at home. Many times I walked away from my visit praying; God have mercy on this person. Sometimes I left refreshed…….
Sometimes….. I didn’t make it down the hall, out of a driveway, or out of the parking lot without tears falling. While standing over Jerry Hall’s body in the ER room a searing pain flooded my heart. An anger I never once felt in any hospital, home, or long term care facility began to well up within me. I left in a hurry. I got alone and sought the Spirit of God. Whom gave me the peace that passes understanding, and the fortitude to do what I knew was coming. I buried my best friend.
Friends, there are times when we minister to our own friends and families, and several years ago I buried my best friend. Jerry was my Small group teacher and leader, until I took over for him. Jerry died of a brain aneurysm. And I buried him several years ago. Many of you remember Jerry.
While in a two year short term pastorate in Dalton, Ga. I met a man by the name of Wendell Bigham. Ohhh, let me tell you about my friend Wendell.
When I met Wendell, he was 80 years old. Wendell had only two jobs in his life. At 15 years old, Wendell started working at the small Hospital in Dalton, Ga. He was a painter……for two years Wendell painted the halls, the rooms, the closets…
Two years later war broke out and Wendell answered the Call of Duty.
Then four years later Wendell came home to Dalton, and started painting at that hospital again. Every room until he retired.
When I came to pastor at East Side Baptist, Wendell and I hit it off fast and deep. Weekly Wendell would invite me to the hospital to eat. “My treat”, he would say. I would respond, “Wendell. Let me take you to get a good meal.”
Each week Wendell would invite me to the hospital to eat. “Chicken today Bob. It’s good.” Have you ever eaten hospital food? Each week. I’d decline. Finally Jacque said something that woke me up out of a slumber. Jacque’s said: “Bob, you need to honor Wendell. Let him take you to the hospital to eat. At the hospital Wendell is somebody.” I was mortified. And said “Baby. You are so right.” You see, at the Hospital Wendell WAS somebody. I told Wendell, next Sunday Wendell, your treat, and I’m coming hungry. Next Sunday rolled around. “Are ya ready to eat Pastor Bob.” “Yes Sir Wendell. I sure am.”
We get to the Hospital and walked into the cafeteria. My jaw hit the floor. Half of the church was there. I stood with Wendell at the back of the line. Watching the cashier ringing people out. Man her hand was gettin’ it! I told Jacque to have a check ready. I was sure Wendell wasn’t prepared for so many people. After the tally, the cashier nodded then said, knowing his name: Mr Wendell. I clutched Jacque’s hand…. Mr. Wendell, she said; “That will be 8 dollars and 23 cents.” My jaw hit the floor as I looked at Jacque, then Wendell. You see, this lady, who knew Wendell, only charged Wendell the tax.
Now my friends. This is what you call integrity. Because Wendell was so loved for the two jobs he did for Dalton, GA; He could have brought in the entire city, and not paid a nickel. Why? Because Wendell H Bigham served with Gladness, and with Pride, and with Honor. Wendell Bigham was loved.
If I have one word of encouragement to my fellow deacons, to the staff at Ridgecrest, and to our Pastors….
My friends “In all that you do. Do to the glory of God.”
And friends, this IS why we serve. To give God and our Savior all the Glory and all the Honor.
