In every congregation I've been around, there's always been one. Someone a little "slow" perhaps, or who is often disheveled, and who, for most of us, if we saw them outside of a church building we would turn and walk the other way to keep from actually having to talk to them. Like stray dogs of old - before animal control - you don't know quite where they come from; they show up ragged, and in need of the basics. Food, shelter, a ride. Always something.
And we often treat them like strays, as a nuisance. Somebody to be polite to when they inevitably pop up, but not somebody to seek out and discuss the latest happening of our lives like we do with our after-services-are-over circles. Somebody to give a ride to, because the faithful ones were out of town and the preacher pleaded for the umpteenth time and I have to check my duty box every once in a while. And, just like strays, seems like no level of mistreatment would run 'em off. Just throw ‘em a little scrap here and there, and there was no getting rid of 'em.
Our sister Thresa Dunnells passed suddenly week before last, a shock to us all given her effervescent presence, especially at VBS just ended. I suppose it shouldn't have been a shock, given the number of health issues she's endured through the years - but still it was. Not to be disparaging or disrespectful, but Theresa and others we've had through the years, reminded me of old strays, just showed up, and hung around, and was quite satisfied just to be around a place with some semblance of love, and didn't pay much attention or dwell on how hard a lot in life they've had. And whether she was warmly welcomed by all didn't much matter, she was welcomed by some. She was welcomed by Jesus. She had a home to cling to, to get the scraps she needed to keep going.
There was somebody in the Bible like this. That Jesus himself seemingly looked down on. The Canaanite lady with a demon possessed daughter. He had something she needed desperately. "Have mercy on me", she pleaded in Matthew 15:22. He tried to ignore her. He seemingly tried to run her off, told her it wasn't her time and place to sit at the table. "It is not good to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs", he replied. Didn't matter. Even dogs have to eat too. "Yes Lord; but even the dogs feed on the crumbs which fall from their master's table". Just throw me a few scraps and I'll be okay. That's all I need.
Jesus was amazed! "O, woman, your faith is great."
Our sister Thresa, like other strays I've known, had a penchant for going forward, which undoubtedly made some uncomfortable. Sensitive and humble, she saw clearly her need for God, and the pride that the rest of us have was nowhere to be found in her heart. What was important was not how other people felt about her, but instead, how God felt about her. She wanted things to be right with her savior, period. Forget the rest of us. Like an old stray, all she wanted was to be around the Master's table, to be around the Master, to be around Jesus. Just to catch a few crumbs.
In thinking about Thresa, it struck me again how often we focus on people from the outside, and not what's on their heart. We're more likely to see someone not as fortunate, or who isn't like us, as strays; and never get close to the love they have for God and for others. We never see how great a faith they have. Christ, through Theresa, teaches us that instead of looking down on others, we need to be more like her, more like strays - recognize we've been through a lot and be thankful for every crumb we can get. Not only thankful - we look forward, do everything we can, to put our hands on more.
I liked what Karen and Barry reminded us of Thresa, how giving she was. How she was a lot like the widow who gave out of her poverty. Enough to trust her poor life to God by giving it away. And how that also was a characteristic of great faith.
It also struck me in thinking about Thresa that great faith is also characterized by Jesus when he talks about the little children just a few chapters over in Matthew 18. "Unless you...become like little children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever then humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." Theresa had that heart. She humbled herself; she wanted to be near Christ. That's what faith is, humbly wanting to be around the Master.
We've had a number of folks pass on in the 18 years we've worshipped here. Folks that we've known well, had out to our house to eat, prayed for, took kids to visit in the hospital. What's interesting is that none of their deaths emotionally impacted our kids. They knew about our brother or sister's deaths, perhaps even went to their funeral - but it never registered with them. Not so with our sister Thresa’s passing.
When the news of her death spread to our house, immediately several of our kids were sad. Immediately they were mourning, trying hard to come to terms with it all. And after services on Sunday night, that comment was echoed several times over by parents with their own sad kids. And it hit me then how child like her heart really was, how in her simple love and humble service, she had connected with the kids. How she had become like a child, to the point where other children knew it and felt it. And most of us didn't…
O Woman, Great is Thy Faith.
