A Forgotten Phone Became a Holy Moment

My feelings were strangely mixed when I arrived Sunday morning at the church I serve as pastor.  On the upside of my feelings was joyful anticipation of a baptism our church family would celebrate in worship.  A woman new to our community and our church wanted to publicly profess her faith by being baptized as a believer.  I always looked forward to leading a baptism, but this one was especially joyful because of the glowing faith and earnest desire of this sweet lady to follow Jesus.  But, on the downside of my feelings was my sadness for my friend.  Charlie, a man who had loved and led our church almost since its beginning, was nearing the end of his earthly life.  He was tired, in great pain and, in his own words, “ready to get on the road.”  Mr. Charlie, as many of us call him, has embodied the faith and spirit of our church as well as any one person could.  He’s been the annual cheerleader for “Give of Your Best to the Master Day,” a kind of homecoming celebration that renewed the church’s memory of a day, early in our story, when a fledging congregation faced the challenge of raising a great deal of money in a day to have enough of a downpayment to move forward on building a new church at a new location.  The church raised the money and construction began.  Mr. Charlie was a leader in that future-shaping day and, in the best sense of the words, wouldn’t let us forget it.  He reminded us what great things God’s people can accomplish when we pray and give our best to God.  His yearly invitation to the celebration always included menu suggestions which, of course, were his personal favorites.  He would challenge the congregation to practice food fairness, telling them not to bring bologna, then fill up on barbeque.  My friend’s critical condition was heavy on my mind and my heart as worship began. 

After the wonderful baptism, I dressed to return to the sanctuary for the remainder of the worship service and started down the stairs from our baptistery toward the main level of our sanctuary.  As I neared the bottom landing, I noticed that my cell phone was in my pants pocket.  I have a firm policy that I leave my phone in my office on Sundays so I don’t somehow interrupt my own sermon with a stray call.  But this Sunday morning, I had it with me.  About the time I landed on the ground level, an idea landed in my mind.  Scrolling through my recent calls, I found and called the number of Mr. Charlie’s daughter, Julie.  When she answered, I asked her if she was with her father in his room at the care facility.  I wasn’t surprised that she was.  I asked her if she would help me deliver a gift to her dad.  I knew Mr. Charlie’s favorite song is “Jesus Loves Me.”  I asked Julie if she would hold her phone near her dad’s ear so his church family could sing to him.  She happily agreed. 

When I entered the sanctuary, our choir was presenting their anthem. My sermon would be next.  I sat down on the front pew and whispered to my surprised church pianist, “Will you play ‘Jesus Loves Me’ for the church to sing it to Mr. Charlie?”  She nodded in agreement, then grabbed a hymnal to make good use of the two minutes’ notice I had given her.  When the choir finished and I rose to preach, I asked the congregation to help me do a favor for a friend.  I told them Mr. Charlie was very ill and that I wanted us to sing his favorite song for him over the phone.  The pianist began and the church spontaneously rose to its feet like a choir in concert.  We sang from our hearts.  Many of us choked back tears.  And we shared the joy of offering a gift to our precious friend, a reminder that the love of Jesus that had so directed his life’s journey would soon become his forever home. 

          When the singing ended, I muttered a few words of blessing to our precious Mr. Charlie and hung up my phone.  Then I preached, but I did so knowing the day’s best sermon had already concluded.  It went something like this: God can take a phone forgetfully left in a pastor’s pocket and create a moment, a holy worshipful moment in which the message and melody of the good news of His life-giving love is shared with deep feeling and heard with even deeper gratitude.  Amen.