Opportunity

The plane boarded for the first portion of the trip to Africa is the smallest commercial jet on which I have ever flown. There is a single row of seats on one side of the aisle and a double row on the other.

My backpack will not fit in the overhead compartment and must be stored under the seat in front of me. This unfortunate loss of precious leg space will be sorely missed by the time the three hour flight concludes.

Cramped quarters leave me less than comfortable with the proximity of the heavyset lady traveling beside me. In such close seating we can’t help but intrude into one another’s personal space. My weight is shifted throughout the flight in an effort to create a gap between my right hip and her left. This is never fully achieved.

Initiating conversation with complete strangers is not one of my strengths. I am content to blend quietly into the background when in a crowd unless needed or otherwise presented a compelling reason to step forward.

In around 30 hours I will be immersed in an unfamiliar culture seeking to minister to people never seen before. Blending in will not be an option. Something tells me this is not a time for reticence.

I ask if the flight to Detroit is taking her closer to home. She lives in another part of Michigan and must take an additional connecting flight. Work in the telecommunications industry brings her to Texas periodically.

We make small talk for a while about changes in her business, about differences in the climate of our respective parts of the country, and about the amenities the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex has to offer. We are airborne before there is a lull in the conversation.

When conversation resumes she wants to know what I do for a living. That information is normally not volunteered until people ask. When people find out you are a minister it changes the way they talk to you. They generally respond in one of two ways.

For some people that knowledge pretty much ends the conversation. Perhaps they had a bad experience with a minister in the past. Maybe they fear the judgmental proclamations portrayed in popular stereotypes of my profession. They may lack interest in spiritual matters and assume they hold little in common with a member of the clergy. For these reasons, and perhaps others, when you reveal that you are minister people often get very quiet.

I don’t try to hide my vocation. I just prefer that people know something about who I am before making judgments based on what I do. Once both are revealed I hope they will not seem in any way incompatible. I aspire to be the same guy whether standing behind a pulpit or sitting on a plane.

For other people, the fact that you are a minister opens the door for deeper conversation. They begin talking and are soon pouring out their life’s story. They confide intimate information rarely shared with others. Sometimes they seek advice and counsel. At other times just having someone to listen in an understanding way seems to ease the burden they are carrying.

Upon leaning what I do, my new acquaintance asks where I am going. We talk about the training seminar to be hosted for Tanzanian pastors. I share how we hope to be an encouragement to the local churches we visit. She tells of her church’s effort to minister in another part of the continent and assures me that she will be praying for our group over the next 17 days.

Then a tragic event in the life of her son is related. She tells how they are still wrestling with and working through its consequences. The family was fractured. Her first marriage ended. The efforts of her current husband and the rest of the family to cope with residual challenges are enumerated.

She speaks and from time to time I ask questions in an effort to help her look at all sides of the situation in an objective manner. As we talk there is a sense that we are engaged in important work. She needs to talk and I have time to listen. Something healing seems to take place during our time in the air. Soon the captain is calling flight attendants to prepare for our landing in Motor City.

When people learn that I am a runner the next question is often “How old are you?” Once they have those two pieces of information some decide it’s horrible for a guy my age to be running. Others think it’s great and offer encouragement. There’s not much middle ground in the way they respond.

Being a minister is like that. The knowledge of what you do either closes doors or opens them. You can never be sure which will happen in a given encounter.

When making the decision to go to Africa I commit to serve wherever the door of opportunity opens. The fact that this lady and I are assigned seats next to each other will be viewed by many as a matter of random coincidence. From where I sit back in 18 B, it looks more like providence.

The ministry part of the trip isn’t supposed to begin until we land in Africa. Yet a door of opportunity opens before I ever leave the States.

Somehow two people on a plane bound for Detroit find the courage to walk through it.