When Bill finally finished talking it felt like it was my turn to speak, to offer advice, to minister. I stayed silent. I could feel myself shrinking even more within my borrowed chaplain suit. Looking for an escape from the room and the awkwardness, I spoke timidly.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you for sharing so honestly,\u201d I said. \u201cI appreciate your advice.\u201d<\/p>\n
Bill looked away as I rose and moved for the door. Like everyone else in Bill\u2019s life, I knew I\u2019d be more comfortable once I didn\u2019t have to look at him anymore, once he was invisible again. It wasn\u2019t until I grabbed the door handle to exit that I remembered my calling. \u201cIn this room you represent the presence of God.\u201d I was not there to represent the chaplaincy office of the hospital. I was not there to represent a young seminary student named Skye. I was there to incarnate the presence of God, if only for a few minutes, to an utterly broken man who had lost his dignity.<\/p>\n
I looked back at Bill and was reminded of Peter\u2019s encounter with the lame beggar at the Beautiful Gate. \u201cI have no silver or gold,\u201d the apostle said, \u201cbut what I do have I give to you\u201d (Acts 3:6). I had no advice or wisdom for Bill, but I did have the presence of Jesus. I could give him that. I returned to my chair by his bed.<\/p>\n
Read it all<\/a>.<\/p>\n Such a great story. There is something in here for the burned-out pastor, the addict, the pastor serving in a situation where words are not enough … its a great read. https:\/\/t.co\/YZtI2Jy2Yx<\/a><\/p>\n — Carolyn Moore (@CarolynCMoore) July 14, 2018<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n