She was a singer in a bar band for years.  She partied hard, sang till the wee hours of the morning, grabbed a few hours of sleep and headed off to dental school most days.  Then one day she went to church.  She didn’t go for herself.  No, she had a friend she thought could use a new set of friends and some help.  Just coming along for the ride, this dental student took a turn for the better herself.  Now, just three years later, she leads much of what her church does musically every week, helps out with the youth group, and pushes others politely but firmly toward the same kind of selfless living.  Her years outside the Church imbued her with a special sensitivity toward and understanding of those outside of it now. And she fixed my teeth for free and let me crash at her house this weekend.  And she’s funny.  No one talks about this.

He’s the pastor of a church in Elon, North Carolina.  But he might not tell you that.  He told his congregation one day that manure in a pile is called “manure” but manure that’s been spread out is called something else: “fertilizer”.  It’s called this because it’s stopped sitting around and started being useful, making stuff grow, bringing life to what was once just dirt and seed.  Then he realized he was just manure too.  So, he decided to spread himself around, went to the coach of the high school football team and asked for a job.  Today this pastor of a growing church teaches kids how to be better football players and better humans he does it for no pay.  He does it because he wants to be useful, to make stuff grow in kids, to bring life to the misery we call “adolescence”.  No one talks about this.

She has a bachelors and masters in English and a photo album full of Asian faces and places.  She spent a year in China teaching English to children at a private school attended by the children of business and political leaders – and learning enough about the history and culture and people of the ancient nation to love it.  And I’m guessing they loved her too.  They probably loved what I love about her.  Her worshipful listening.  Her evenly paced speech and poetic use of language to make the ordinary – like a castle or a dance – sound as exotic and noteworthy as an undiscovered planet.  She’s a teacher, sure, but she’s also a flare fired across the sea, into a school in China, across the street, into a community college where she teaches English and passes on her love for language and beauty and life and models poise and humility.  No one talks about this.

He makes coins disappear and magic wands change colors.  Every trick requires his audience’s attention to be drawn away from the truth just long enough to be fooled by the lie.  He deftly, ironically, with sarcasm sprinkled in, uses the lie to draw their attention to a greater truth.  Church folks mostly, people who come to be entertained, are.  Their laughter and awe leave them a little lighter, a little wiser, a little different from when they walked in.  And they learn about the miracle his friends are doing in the third world – teaching people trades that can feed their family.  A small thing really – a job – a skill – making hopelessness and hunger disappear.  No one talks about this.

She can’t get a job in most churches because she’s a she.  She’s smart enough.  She’s wise enough.  She cares enough.  She’s charming enough.  She’s articulate enough.  She’s just not male enough.  She’s good enough for internships and interim positions loving youth groups but that’s as any local church has let her go.  She’s struggled with this.  She struggled as she continued to help where she’s allowed while paying the bills selling cigars at a smoke shop where her co-workers got to see a different kind of Christian than they imagined existed.  No arrogance.  No punishment.  No hatred.  No lectures.  Today, no longer selling tobacco, she prepares to be a hospital chaplain – a job so difficult or just plain unglorious that anyone willing is welcomed to do it – regardless of gender.  She’s decided it’s the job for her.  She decided while interning as a chaplain not long ago, rocking a two month-old baby’s body waiting for the morgue to collect it.  Grieving with the parents and then doing what they couldn’t bring themselves to, just rocking and praying “God, I know this baby is gone, but I just need to rock him.  I don’t know why.” No one talks about this.

No one talks about Tracy, Mike, Olivia, William or Suzie.  They’re not the problem.  They’re just five people I got to spend a little time with this weekend while passing through North Carolina. 

We tend to talk about what’s broken don’t we?  I do. The problem gets my words, because it gets solved that way. But maybe the problems get solved not just by talking them, dissecting them and attacking them but also by celebrating, noticing, applauding what’s good.  These people.  A dentist, a pastor, an entertainer, a teacher, a counselor. 

Thank you. I’m praying that while I keep spending words and brain space on what’s wrong with the church, the music business, the government, the world in general, I don’t stop noticing people like you. 

We talk a lot about the problems here.  Why not, just this once, we talk about the people no one talks about, the people worth noticing and celebrating?  Who is that in your neck of the woods?

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