Growing a Quartet

 

We know that we all possess knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. (1 Corinthians 8:1)

 

        Years ago I was occasionally invited to speak at a shelter for homeless men at the edge of downtown Minneapolis where residents were expected to listen to a gospel message in return for a free night’s lodging. It was a tough crowd, sullen and unresponsive. Many were hung over. No one seemed eager to hear the message, and I often wondered what good my suburban, over-educated thoughts could do. I had no idea how to speak to these men.

        One night the meeting was particularly unruly. My subject was love—love as action, kindness, caring—the kind of love being shown by those who made this shelter available. Members of the staff moved through the scattered crowd, encouraging bored men to listen, or at least to talk quietly in their casual, more relevant conversations, but with little success. One man in a dirty brown coat stood and muttered something about my not knowing what I was talking about, that there was no love in this world. In a moment, one of the staff members—I knew him only as Gene—was next to the man with an arm around his shoulder, gently steering him off toward a side room. I quickly concluded my talk and, mercifully, the director took over.

        Following a series of “housekeeping” items, the meeting was to conclude with a men’s quartet. Gene was part of the group and led the way to the front of the room as the piano music began. The four—no, five—singers lined up behind the small podium. The man in the brown coat was there too, beside Gene who had befriended him. Love had indeed been in action. Kindness had been shown; caring had been demonstrated. Quartet had become quintet.

        Russell Spittler tells of visiting a new baby ward as part of his role as hospital chaplain. His experience had taught him the meaning of many abbreviations that medical people use: TIA, SVT, CHF. But when he saw the label FTT at the foot of one infant’s bassinette, he was stumped and inquired about its meaning. “Failure to thrive,” the charge nurse told him. He asked about treatment, and she spoke of diet regimens, then pointed to a rocking chair nearby. “And we have volunteer grandmothers who come in and rock the baby for hours.”

        Love works where all else fails. Knowledge is good, but love builds up.

 

Copies of Mike’s book You Are Rich: Discovering Faith in Everyday Moments, a collection of sixty faith-related reflections, is available through Amazon or Barnes & Noble.