Another View for October 13, 2005
By Tommy McDearis
Vacation on the cheap. Virtually every minister will understand those words. No matter how prominent our churches, few of us take more than a short, moderately-priced vacation without juggling our checkbooks. And even those of us who can afford it seldom take a nice trip without dishing up a heaping helping of guilt over whatever it was we could have done with the money. We could have helped save the planet from the latest scourge or we could have brought another lost soul to peace eternal.
I suppose I am glad God made guilt, but sometimes I cannot recall why I am glad! Generally speaking, guilt stinks!
Nevertheless, unless sanity is over-rated, vacations are critical if we are to remain sane amidst the constant call of the ministry. Thus, last summer my wife, daughter and I loaded into the family car for a short break from the daily routine. Excitement abounded as we began our trek to our nation's capital.
Oh, how we looked forward to the trip. The drive brought talk of a nice dinner and the excitement of our first day touring the museums of the Smithsonian.
It was a beautiful dream, a dream befitting any middle-class pastor and his family. And it might have been all our hearts desired if it had not been for one startling fact. The reputably-named hotel my wife booked in the distant suburb was inexpensive not because it was some distance from the city. It was inexpensive because it sat squarely in the middle of Crack-town, USA!
Yes, sir! If cocaine and hookers are the staples of your family vacation, I've got the place for you! One block north of this wannabe Waldorf is the busiest fire and rescue station in suburban DC. Why is it so busy? I'm not sure, but I think it might have to do with the automatic gunfire bouncing through the trees as we drove into the parking lot, a parking lot patrolled by an off-duty police officer who had about her the look of a cadaver in waiting!
The pool? It was everything the brochure said and more. In fact, it was so clear you could have spotted the bodies lying on the bottom all the way from the 7th floor window-if, of course, you possessed the courage to raise your head above the windowsill while the boys in the gang were reloading!
And the hot tub? Oh, baby, it was a sight for sore eyes! I bet we would have enjoyed it to the fullest if we could have found an hour when it was not being occupied by Big-haired Barbie and the Crown Pimp of Hashish!
Exactly when did I realize we were in trouble? Perhaps it began to sink in when I asked the night clerk for directions to a good restaurant and she handed me a map to Dunkin Donuts and a crucifix! Yet it was the next day as we boarded the hotel shuttle to the subway that our bargain vacation was revealed to be a genuine nightmare. As we stepped aboard, I said, “Could you please take us to the nearest train station,” to which the driver replied, “So, when did this death wish begin for you, pastor?”
You know there is more than one dilemma afoot when you walk into a train station at 9 a.m. only to be approached by a rather chubby “lady of the evening” who greets you with the words, “Hi, good looking. Want a date?” I'm 47 years old, short, bald, bifocals, two chins, 20 pounds overweight, a bad knee, I'm wearing Wal-Mart cargo shorts and I'm a minister-and not only am I the best prospect this working girl has, but I'm the good-looking guy who appears to be the man with money. Clearly, I was not the only person having a bad day!
With fear and trembling my family boarded the train for our 30-minute ride to our nation's capital. Surrounded by people who seemed oblivious to the unnerving atmosphere, we eventually arrived in the heart of the greatest nation on earth.
As it has always been, the Federal Mall was breathtaking. Washington, D.C., is a place everyone in the country should see. Only in D.C. can one feel the pulse that is the greatness of the United States. I challenge anyone to stand amidst the Lincoln Memorial without humming The Battle Hymn of the Republic. Not only do you sense Mr. Lincoln's presence on that hallowed ground, but you can almost hear Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gracing our nation with what was perhaps the greatest sermon ever preached on American soil: “I Have a Dream!”
It was my daughter's first trip to D.C. and she loved it. What a joy it was to walk with the two women in my life in a place where great dreams are made and beautiful memories are shared. What a blessing!
But then came the train-and oh, the joy that flooded my soul … .
Ah, the ministry. Don't ya just love it?
As we passed the Watergate Hotel I found myself thinking, “If I had been a lawyer, I would have graduated law school in far less time than a doctorate took in seminary, and I could have afforded a luxury suite overlooking the Potomac River.” But law school was not my calling. Neither was a five-star hotel. No, a call to preach, shallow pockets and my immense Christian guilt consigned me to the outskirts of an urban purgatory where mice and men fear to tread.
And yet, as we reached the end of the line, I suddenly realized our family was experiencing something few middle-class families would ever experience. We were seeing real America. Not only had we witnessed the storied America of the history books, and not only do we routinely live the American dream, but we were also seeing an America that is unfortunately home to millions of our country's children. Surrounded by poverty, living in fear, walking to school in neighborhoods where armed thugs rule the streets, this is an America my family would normally see only on TV. But we were experiencing it-the fear, the discomfort, the worry, the dread, the resentment-and all the while I was giving thanks that ours was but a brief visit to a world so many call daily life.
My family is so fortunate. Our large church that ministers to a major university town affords us a lifestyle far removed from the weakness and struggle so common to some. And now I again feel ashamed, complaining about a cheap vacation, whining that I did not stay in a fine hotel in a better part of town, while visiting a living history many will see only in their dreams.
Vacation on the cheap: I wouldn't want to do it every year, but at least we had the option of the trip. And yes, now and then, it is indeed good to be reminded that my family's worst day is pretty darn good-and a dang sight better than some people's every day!
Glory hallelujah! What a blest man I am! And now grows the question born of my bargain holiday: How can we bring the liberation of Christ to the people of my cheap vacation?
Ah, the ministry. I do love it so!
Tommy McDearis is senior pastor of Blacksburg Baptist Church in Blacksburg.