Edgar Allan Poe wrote of the conviction of a tell-tale heart: a sense of right -n- wrong violated and haunting the sinner and reader. Charles Dickens turned Christmas into a haunted ghost story, truly an amazing paradox. But neither Poe nor Dickens, as good as they were, were good enough get their haunting tales into the Bible. Yet in the book of I Samuel, in the twenty-eighth chapter, there is a witch and ghost story, but this is exceedingly rare for the Bible. Yet, it might be fair to say this haunting came with conviction for that sinner and us readers too.
But does the Holy Ghost haunt us? Does the Holy Spirit convict us? Can you be driven into a life of ministry by being haunted and convicted? Is that biblical even? (Sounds practically prophetic.)
Certainly the writer of Hebrews 4:12 paints a picture of the word of God like a sword, so sharp and precise it cuts in between the soul and spirit, the joints and marrow, and brings penetrating conviction with regard to our thoughts and attitudes of our heart. No doubt that would include a haunting of past sins, and surely the Holy Spirit is involved at least.
Let me shoot straight with you here. I know of no direct quotes or allusions in the Bible to the haunting of the Holy Ghost or of the conviction the Holy Spirit brings to bear on ministry. These are not biblical ideas, as far as I can see – at least not in these terms. If this stuff is there, I have not found it, and so it just doesn’t compute. Still, somehow it seems to be my experience anyway. Thus I lean on Charles Dickens for this post.
Jacob Marley a.k.a. Crazy Mary:
Let me talk a bit about conviction, ghosts, God’s Spirit, and ministry. Let me borrow a template from Dickens, and consider a life in ministry haunted by spirits that bring conviction. I don’t know if this will make much sense to you, but all of these come together for me in a song made famous in the early 1990s by Pearl Jam,. The song was written, though, by Victoria Ann Williams, a young musician suffering from multiple sclerosis. If Williams and Pearl Jam could stand in for Jacob Marley, perhaps they could prepare the way for the conviction to come. Between them, I meet Mary, the first ghost whose story haunts my ministry.
The song is called Crazy Mary. Here are the lyrics copied and pasted from the web:
She lived on a curve in the road, in an old tar-paper shack
On the south side of the town, on the wrong side of the tracks
Sometimes on the way into town we’d say:
“Mama, can we stop and give her a ride?”
Sometimes we did but her hands flew from her side
Wild eyed, crazy Mary
Down along the road, past the Parson’s place
The old blue car we used to race
Little country store with a sign tacked to the side
Said “No L-O-I-T-E-are-I-N-G allowed”
Underneath that sign always congregated quite a crowd
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
One night thunder cracked mercy backed outside her windowsill
Dreamed I was flying high above the trees, over the hills
Looked down into the house of Mary
Bare bulb on, newspaper-covered walls, and Mary rising up above it all
Next morning on the way into town
Saw some skid marks, and followed them around
Over the curve, through the fields, into the house of Mary
That what you fear the most, could meet you halfway
That what you fear the most, could meet you halfway
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
Songwriters: VICTORIA ANN WILLIAMS
© Universal Music Publishing Group
For non-commercial use only.
Data From: LyricFind
Williams, the writer of this song, reports that as a child growing up near Shreveport, Louisiana, she was haunted by the figure of a woman, a “crazy” woman she calls “Mary,” who lived in the woods and would walk along the road leading into town, but who was afraid to accept a ride in a car. She was a destitute woman who most people were only too happy to drive past without offering her a lift, but Williams claims her mother would make the offer which was turned down out of fear, yet Mary eventually was killed by a car that crashed into her humble tar-paper shack where she slept.
“That what you fear the most could meet you halfway.”
From the first time I heard the song, it haunted me.
I did not know Williams’ back story until recently when considering writing this post. But the story of the song has many points in common with another story from my youth, and I often contemplated “Crazy Mary” and those like her – marginalized, neglected, needful, wonderful people who could be so much more if real human love were invested in their lives, but who instead vanish in the mist and haunt God’s creation at the margins of life.
The song is in no way a “Christian” song, but as a Christian, over the years, I have contemplated writing a final verse for it – a verse Williams failed to include. I am not musician, but as a Jesus-follower haunted by Mary, I have a sense of conviction that I might play a role in changing the world so that she finds a place to thrive. How might we tell this story if Jesus came along and found Mary with “her hands flew from her side”? The aimlessness of crowds congregated under “No Loitering” signs might find new direction. And they may not be only the bums who benefit from this Apocalyptic final verse, but maybe those crowds congregated under signs that say “church” discover the purpose for which they are driven.
I want to live in THAT world. How might I play my part in bringing it to birth in this one? I am haunted by the notion. It seems like a haunting of the Holy Ghost.
In my feeble attempt to bring a unifying theme to this post, I now borrow from Charles Dickens (himself a ghost with concern for the poor and needy, if not Christian ministry). I think you will catch on to the drift easy enough, if you know A Christmas Carol and the story of Scrooge and Tiny Tim.
Ghost of Ministry Past:
My long dead grandmother’s life and love for Jesus leaves a haunting legacy for me.
I never knew my paternal grandmother, not the one whose genes I inherited. (I knew and loved my dad’s stepmother, and called her “Grandma,” but there was that other one whose influence is mysterious. I want to talk about her.) She died before I was born… died singing church hymns. The hospital staff in the cancer ward reported later that they knew she was gone when the singing stopped. Is that not the haunting of the Holy Ghost? It’s not a story like any found in the Bible, but it sure has the feel of a Holy Ghost story. If Dickens can turn Christmas into a ghost story, one that benefits the poor, then surely you can afford me this slack.
Special Agent Grandmother loved Jesus, and she felt moved with deep conviction and compassion to care for the poor and less fortunate – even when that put her at odds with church leadership (which was quite remarkable in the 1950s – especially for a woman!). A voice for the voiceless who was herself voiceless, Grandmother sounds hauntingly familiar to me now since my own shepherds have told me that I can scream at the top of my voice, but they will not listen to me either.
There are many stories about her ministry, and I have already posted about her and the legacy she leaves to me on this blog before. But one story I have not told is about the care she gave to the family living in the “old tar-paper shack.” And suddenly there seems to be more than mere coincidence at work between Grandmother (and my dad) and Victoria Williams (and her mom) and these two stories about the “old tar-paper shacks.”
Like nearly everything I know about Special Agent Grandmother, I learned about her from my dad. For years, my dad recited his own story about his mama driving her kids down to Theta Rogers “old tar-paper shack” and picking up Theta and her daughters to “give them a ride” to church. I consider how humble the home of my dad’s youth was, and yet he was shocked by the humility in which this family lived. One of the things that stands out in his story is the smell of the kids loading in the car. The family living in the old tar-paper shack burned tires to keep warm – a desperate ploy to fight the Colorado winter cold – and the smell of burned tires went with them to worship services.
On some occasions, Special Agent Grandmother took cleaning supplies into that tarpaper shack and cleaned it. She and some of the ladies from church taught hygiene habits to Theta’s kids. It didnt sit well with Grandmother to let Theta and her kids just exist in that shack unnoticed at the margins and the hands and feet of Jesus not care for them. No. And she wasn’t gonna just go on down to the worship service, sing the songs, say the prayers, and partake of the Eucharist pretending all was well with her soul or with God’s good world while at the same time not inviting this needy family to come join in the celebration of Jesus with her. That just would not make sense. And so when I hear the Crazy Mary song made famous by Pearl Jam, I can see my grandmother, with my dad and my aunt (as children) stoping to give Mary/Theta a ride.
Is this the Holy Ghost haunting me? My own grandmother who I never met? Whose genes I share, whose legacy I find myself the champion of in my generation? And sure enough, despite the fact that the Jesus we read about in Scripture is surrounded by needy people to the point of being crushed, so much so that even the house is over crowded to the point that they can’t even eat a meal, but this in no way characterizes our churches with their ski trips, with parking lots full of Lexus, Cadillac, and Lincoln – none of which smell of burned tires or any other smells of the needy – and with million dollar sanctuaries, architecture, landscaping, and prayer gardens all devoted to the Jesus who was devoted to the needy and the poor.
Haunting. Convicting. Ministry.
The Ghost of Ministry Present:
My unlikely friend, advocate, and fellow servant at church! An encourager in the midst of despair!
I am haunted by my fellow minister “agent dc,” (he does not use capital letters in his own pseudonym) who some of my readers will recognize leaving likes and comments here on the blog. Obviously, agent dc has joined the secret agent, clandestine effort in ministry, and thus I will respect his desire to remain anonymous. But I must say that his involvement with this ministry gives me great encouragement.
I met agent dc at church two years ago. Right when I was confronting the powers-that-be in church leadership with their devotion to the Lupton Center’s “Seeking Shalom” class, and the subsequent shunning I faced from my church over that confrontation, agent dc introduced himself to me and asked if he could donate a pile of coats to be distributed to homeless people on the streets of Lubbock. A stark contrast to my experience with the rest of the brotherhood!
In the two years since that time, agent dc, his wife and I together, have teamed up a few times for ministry to our (now) mutual friend Agent Mama DJ and her family. Yes, agent dc, just for the asking, drove out to pick me up and then drove out to find DJ and drive her all over Lubbock one day to get medical care, groceries, and dog food, and agent dc funded the mission too!
This is the kind of ministry I am used to providing, the kind that inspires me from Scripture and from contemporary ministers like Tony Campolo or Shane Claiborne. The kind where we actually give out our phone number and answer the call when it comes. The kind that sacrifices to show God’s love to those in need, that risks it all to be all to all. And when it was done, agent dc THANKED ME for asking him to be a part of it! A world of difference between that and anything I experienced in “Seeking Shalom” or Premier Homeless Pseudo Church (not it’s real name) 101 Class!
Just when my church experience looks, sounds, and feels so utterly bleak, the shepherds become so petty as to say I can scream but they won’t listen, the small group that meets at my house ghosts me without a single word or comment, and the concerns I bring to church leadership is met with indifference – just then – I find this stubborn blessing AT CHURCH! It’s almost like decency haunts me! Just when it seemed dead, there it is alive. The hope of love, just when I was sure it was dead, is back from the grave!
If I wanted to wallow in self pity, I would not be able to shake the Holy Ghost of Ministry Present that insists on thanking me for the opportunity to spend hours and days, tens and hundreds of dollars, and other imaginative resources giving love and hope to the needy!
The Ghost of Ministry Future:
I don’t know in any comprehensive sense what the future holds. I am not actually optimistic about it. I am heavily burdened with shame, pain, and despair and a church that functionally does not care. But I am also buoyed by the small, but stubborn hope that haunts all my pessimism with grace and conviction and dares to be joyous and thankful for the chance to love the needy.
I really don’t know what the church will look like in another decade or twenty years, but I have a feeling the Body of Christ will not be represented by all that stained glass and ski trips. I hope I have the wisdom to be a part of THAT Body in what ever form it is found.
All of this has me thinking again about Crazy Mary and writing the last verse for her song. What jalopy that doesn’t boast a “Lexus” logo and isn’t afraid to host the smell of burning tires will Jesus roll up in that Mary will not fear, that Mary will relent and climb into? What jalopy will not drive past her unnoticed, not crash into her shack killing her, but will invite Theta and her kids to climb in and find the aimless crowds congregating under the sign that says “W-E-L-C-O-M-E” at the Luke-14 Party of the Apocalypse? What is so scary about this experience with the Holy Ghost? Are you feeling haunted yet? Is this too much of a stretch for the Bible?
Look. They made a movie about Charles Dickens as well as making several movies about his book. The movie they made about him they called The Man Who Invented Christmas. The irony is astounding. First off Dickens did not invent Christmas. Yet, watch the movie and then argue that he didn’t before you accept that statement. Secondly, he did it by turning his celebration of Christmas into a ghost story! How counterintuitive is that? Yet look at the impact Dickens’ ghost story has had on Christmas in the cultures of the English speaking world!
Anyway, I point this out because as long as I am relying so heavily on Dickens for this post, I may as well also rely on the established fact that his success in that endeavor is just so unlikely, yet so devastatingly powerful.
Imagine that!
Imagine people giving their phone numbers to the needy and answering the calls. Imagine those people sacrificing time, money, and resources – even exhausting themselves – only to turn and thank the needy for the opportunity to serve! Imagine the Holy Ghost/Apocalyptic Party you are worthy to join when you have that kind of heart for Jesus! (Read Matthew 25:31-46 through the lens of hospitality before you answer that. Read Luke 14:13-14 before you answer that.)
May the Holy Ghost haunt you with conviction to go into ministry like that!
(And if I attract a musician/song writer to read here, maybe help us write a final verse for Crazy Mary. One where Jesus stops and gives her a ride to the congregation crowded underneath the sight that says “W-E-L-C-O-M-E” to church.)