Skip to main content

Friendship: a mighty fine ministry


After months of attempting to clearly articulate my sense of ministry for a handful of graduate school applications, I have arrived at a few running definitions that satisfy me- for the moment.  They are all purposefully abstract, intimating that the underlying gospel dynamic is one of liberation that leads to abundant, joyful self-giving. But if the refrain is that simple, that adaptable, how could I begin to put parameters on when and where “ministry” takes place?

Throughout my life I have encountered exquisitely refined ministry from the people you would expect- keen professors, embracing campus ministers, and doting Jesuit priests who have made the title “father” more fitting than a pair of worn-in jeans. 

But I’ve also seen a different variety of ministry flourish outside of the Catholic mileau.  For instance, ministry was unwaveringly honest and direct for the alcohol and drug counselors I worked beside at Friendship House.  There, they had different names for God (a power greater than ourselves), confession (an AA meeting), and prayer (smudging off), but the same dynamics of compassion, healing and invigorating freedom prevailed. 

I recently received a phone call from Kelly, a JVC housemate and friend.  During the course of our conversation Kelly shared with me a theme that had been persisting strongly in her prayers and spiritual life.  The message was powerfully clear for her: “Love.”

 “I know this may sound a little simple, and kind of like, duh, but really, Mags, if I can do nothing else but love people, I mean really care for them and love them as they come, then that’s all I need to be doing right now.”

 As Kelly spoke, I vividly recalled our last date together and how very present and exuberant and thoughtful she was.  Now, of course, none of these adjectives are atypical for Kelly- she is a force of love by nature.  Yet, Kelly’s simple revelation and invocation to love stirred up a similar response in me. I was so easily persuaded by her conviction that I hung up the phone feeling equally charged to be a force of love myself.  It was as if, on this day, I had heard God’s voice.

This conversation, and many others like it, have put a whole new spin on the concept of real ministry for me. When a friend is honest about something she is experiencing, I feel closer to reality and challenged to be more honest in my engagement with it.  When a friend expresses a desire to be more loving, or to practice better self-care, or to pray not out of obligation, but because he knows it will literally save his life, I listen.  And I am changed.

I honor the candid things my friends say, and more than any other homily, these conversations function as conversion moments for me.  And for that reason I’ve come to believe that friendship is the most natural, desirable form of ministry there is.  It does not ask us to study, perform, or do anything in particular.  It is stripped clean of all pretenses and polished agendas, and there in the intimacy of being with each other, in the trusted space of one’s friendship, ministry handles itself.   I am so grateful for my friends, and the ongoing revelations I receive as they reflect out loud, and with beautiful transparency, the movements of their heart.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Another Reflection on Breaking-Up

It’s happening again.   One of my good friends is on the other end of a telephone call, holding back tears as she recounts the details of her recent break-up. She is a strong, fiercely independent woman, who has counseled and coached the rest of us through the emotional train wreck of many collective break-ups.   Two years ago, she told me, “Maggi, when you end a relationship, you find yourself waking up every morning to a dull heart-ache perched upon your chest and you really, really believe your world is over.”   You roll yourself out of bed anyway. You make the route cup of coffee.   You stumble into the shower and let the steam swell around you.   If you’re feeling especially lifeless, you drape your hair over your ears, so that the cascade of hot water makes a deep rushing sound, like being swept beneath the sea to a powerfully calm, fetal state of being, where the roar of running water drowns out all the piercing thoughts in your head.   You...
5 comments
Read more

Listening to the Radio: A New Year's Resolution

If I were to make any resolution for the New Year, and these are seldom, I would listen for the year as I listen to a newly discovered song. Just the other day I was driving along the 5 freeway; on my left, the sun guiding the Pacific, and on my right, Oceanside’s famous stretch of mustard fields. These are just the kinds of drives that lull me into a meditative trance, that dispel the doggedly anxious thoughts from my mind and allow me the simple pleasure of being in the world. There is nothing else to do in the car but drive, and while this made me crazy with boredom as a child, it has since become a favored form of contemplation. Even my radio listening habits must adapt to these long drives. Because I am crossing multiple county lines, my go-to stations become static, and I am forced to explore the uncharted musical airwaves. And because I hold no expectations for what I will discover there, my reception of the unknown changes. I wait with curiosity for a song to unfold. I...
3 comments
Read more

The First Negotiation

The morning light licks the corners of my face, repeatedly, until I consent to opening my eyes. She makes her gradual way across the bed, nudging her most promising sign of hope unto the tossled ivory. The sun is far more gentle than any alarm clock I’ve ever fought, though no less insistent. In such radiant self-giving, how many times can I roll over? So we strike a compromise: I will flip my pillow and “rest” my head, but promise to keep my eyes a flutter, little windows parted slightly for the streams of her still light. Sometimes I up the bargain, telling her that there is really no better way to receive her glory, no greater praise of her warmth, than to surrender consciousness upon her lap, just a little. She will often reply by shedding new light upon the floor, warming a most suggestive path out into the kitchen. My stomach grumbles. Are you sure you don’t want to try freezing time again? I ask. You, me and the sheets, forever curled in our secret morning splendor...
5 comments
Read more