Extravagant Love

I have now been at Napa State Hospital for my CPE program for three weeks. I'm feeling like I am getting into a bit of a groove there, although it seems like there is always something that is coming in the way of really getting into a routine (Independence Day, Conferences, etc). But that has not stopped me from having some really great experiences of insight into myself, my pastoral identity, and into the human race.

Recently I had a conversation with a man (I'll call him Jim to protect his identity, and thus keeping with HIPAA requirements) who is new to the facility. One of the reasons I was talking with Jim was that he learned that as he was being transported to Napa State his mother passed away. He said, "It's okay. Now we're both in a better place." Still, that doesn't put an end to his grief.

As Jim talked about his feelings and his grief over the loss of his mother and his sadness about his inability to attend the funeral (due to his commitment to Napa State) he started sharing a story about his mother. What follows is my recollection of that story, I hope I do it justice.

My mother was a kind and loving woman. I always knew love growing
up. I know that the reason I am here is because of choices I made, not
because of the home I grew up in. My mother was an artist and she used to
love to do watercolors of nature scenes. She loved nature and she always
seemed to notice the things that no one else noticed.

Our yard, when I was growing up, had huge trees in the backyard.
Our neighbor had these Palm trees put in that were full grown. One of
those trees must have dropped a seed near our trees and one day when I was out
marveling at how large our trees were my mom noticed this little palm tree
sapling in the ground. Most people would have trod over it and never
noticed it, but my mother not only noticed it, she nurtured it and took care of
it. As it got bigger she transplanted it to another area of the yard so
that it could get the sun that it needed and survive.

My mother did that with me, too. See, I am adopted. My
parents could not have children of their own so they looked for a child to
adopt. I don't know the story of my birth-mother, nor do I need to,
because my mom and dad found me, a little child not more than 6-months old and
took me into their home, cared for me, and loved me, and gave me the love that I
needed to grow up and be a good person.

Jim's mom really seemed to understand the extravagant love that Christ modeled for us. Jesus didn't discriminate when he died on the cross. He didn't discriminate in his ministry. In fact it was to the "least of these" that he focused his ministry. How often do we overlook the little saplings all around us in life focusing on the bigger, more impressive, mature trees? How often do we overlook the people that God is calling us to serve saying, "surely that is not the person, Lord."

As I spend my summer at Napa State Hospital, I see people that society has named as thief, murderer, and sex-offender. These descriptions are true of one aspect of who they are (or were), but I see in them the face of Christ. These are children of God, heirs of the heavenly promise, forgiven of their sins. These are the saplings that we are called to nurture and guide to maturity.