Pastor's Note
The Greatest of These
PermalinkHelen was born in 1921 and lived out her life in a house just a half mile from Open Door. She had no blood relatives. Jimmy Carter was just leaving the White House the last time she attended our fellowship. But over the past more than a few years, I have watched the church be the church. There were untold numbers of meals and check ins and hours of yard work and various home repairs, and at least one break in for a medical emergency. This pastor didn't do much for Helen. Didn't have to. Others were busy doing the work of the ministry, and Helen neither demanded much nor put up with too much fuss. Yesterday afternoon at Historic Elmwood Cemetery with the rain coming down, I stood under a tent by her graveside and spoke to a group of people--the funeral director, a handful of long-time neighbors, and a cluster of saints from a little Midtown church. We were surrounded by 80 acres of graves dating back to 1852 where reside the bodies of mayors and slaves and a slave trader and 2,500 victims of the Yellow Fever Epidemic and veterans of American wars all the way back to our Revolution. We were viewing life from God's timeline, a look we seldom take time to consider. And that moment was for Helen. Only a few things comprise what is truly important. And I caught a rare glimpse of it.
