Just Who Is Stephen, and Why Should I Care?

Ralph DiBiasio-Snyder

January 11, 2009

 

Introduction to Job 2:11-12

 

Much could be said about the book of Job, back there in the Old Testament..  It is a long book - a very long book.  Of poetry, mostly.  We don't know who wrote it, or when.  It raises the most perplexing of religious questions, namely, why do the righteous suffer?  In Job's case - horribly suffer.  It doesn't answer the question.  But asks it very well!

            Here's the story in a nutshell: Job is a perfect human being.  "Perfect and upright," says the text more than once.  Religious. Wealthy.  Big, happy family.  Perfect.  He sins not.

            Then catastrophe strikes: neighboring tribes attack,  a tornado whirls through, "fire from heaven" falls, and his kids, grandkids - all gone.  Everything Job owned - gone. Overnight.  All he has left is his health, and his wife.

            Until he is covered all over with open, burning sores, boils.  There he sits among the rubble of his home, scrapping himself with the broken dinnerware, to ease his pain. Still praising God, mind you.  He's perfect, remember!  His wife, God bless her, voices what we're all thinking: Job, why don't you just curse God, and die?"

            Life doesn't deal out much worse than that.  Now is when you need some friends, some comfort.  And here they come, Job's three comforters:

 

When Job's three friends, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite, heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him.

When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads.  Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.

 

Anthem: If I Forget, Yet God Remembers

 

            We've all been in that awkward, awful moment - that little space in time between hearing the bad news - news that will change a life forever - and saying something or doing something - anything - that we desperately think might help, even if just a little, just for a little while.  A friend's spouse has died; a child is deathly ill.  A job is lost, and we don't know how next month's mortgage will be paid, or how healthcare bill covered.  A marriage ends.  A fortune is lost.  What do you say?  How do you express to this friend, this child, this neighbor the love and compassion you feel inside?  How can you care for that person?

            In our Holy Conversations listening process of the last four years we together identified six characteristics of our fellowship - six attributes, six markers of who we are - that is, who we are now, and who we want to become more deeply, more fully.

            One of those six descriptive phrases that we want to be more of is this one: We want to reflect the example of Jesus, we said, by "Caring for each other with love, compassion, and joy."  And that opens the question for us: just how do you do that?  How can we better care for each other through the ups and downs of this journey of life that we share?

            Job's three friends wanted to do that for him.  He has hit bottom, and there is no where to go - not even up, he's so far down.  His losses, his illness, his feeling of being forsaken by all is so complete his friends don't even recognize him at first.  To their credit they don't just turn around and go home - they could have.  "Job?  Oh, no . . .  Job, yes.  We looked for him, but you know, we just couldn't find him anywhere; must have been away somewhere . . ."  They didn't do that; they stayed.

            And to their credit they weep with their friend - they even tear their clothes, an expression of sorrow in that time, sprinkling ashes on their heads -  as they silently sit with him in the rubble.  For seven days, and seven nights.  Just sitting with him.  Silent.  Thinking . . . "What should we say?"

            If you know the rest of the story you know that what they came up with to say to poor, suffering Job was exactly the wrong things to say. They kept their silence - that was a good thing to do.  That's what most people suffering with grief or pain or fear want us to do - just sit with them.  Be with them.  Assure them of our love and care, our presence.

            What people don't need are easy, pat answers to the great, mysterious and painful questions of life.  For example please do NOT say, even if you believe it, even if you mean well, "God will never give you more than you can bear."  There's more wrong with that than I can begin to tell.  No, people are not looking for platitudes, or advice, or answers.  They just need to know they are not alone.

            Job's comforters at least start off right, with silence, and empathy.  But they are famous for then going on to say all the wrong things.  "Job," they said, "You brought this on yourself!  You must have sinned - big time!"  Job's comforters really wanted to comfort him.  They just didn't know how.

            Which brings me to my title: Just Who is Stephen, and Why Should I Care?  Today we introduce a new ministry within our church family, one that can help us be better comforters to one another.  It's calledStephen Ministry. Who was Stephen?  Stephen was the first lay person in the book of Acts to be commissioned as a lay minister within the early church - his was a ministry not of preaching or teaching - that's what the apostles and pastors did - but caring for needs within the congregation.  Stephen was a caregiver - "full of faith, and the Holy Spirit," says the text.

And it is this first caregiver from which the Stephen Ministry program draws its inspiration and its name.  Now: why should we care?  Because Stephen Ministry is all about caring - equipping us to care more deeply and fully and effectively for each other.

            Some background: Stephen Ministry began in 1975 in St. Louis.  It is a transdenominational program for training and organizing lay people within a local church to provide one-to-one care to people in times of need - the bereaved, hospitalized, homebound, people in transition, be it divorce, unemployment, relocation - any of the times of crisis that happen to us all in some way.  Trained Stephen Ministers are NOT counselors, or pastors - they are caregivers who have learned about listening well, about feelings, about confidentiality - and have been trained in ministering to people in specific life situations.

            Over 10,000 churches representing 150 denominations are enrolled in the Stephen Ministry program, and over 500,000 lay people have received Stephen Ministry training.  Last fall four people from our church - Kay Quinney-Burnard, Jodi Braun, Cynthia Thorpe and Deanie Minniear went to an introductory seminar in near Madison and had a wonderful experience learning about the program.  After hearing their report and recommendation, Ministry Council voted to support and to fund starting a Stephen Ministry program here - to help us be a church family that cares for one another with "love, compassion, and joy."

            Here's how it will work.  This coming April Kay, Cynthia, Dick Oelschlager and Ginnie Sherer, and will spend a week in St. Louis at Stephen Ministry headquarters.  There they will learn how to set up the program here, and how to train people to be Stephen Ministers.  Back home, they will lead a series of training sessions - fifty hours worth - for anyone in the congregation who would like to be a Stephen Minister.  Once that first group of Stephen Ministers has gone through the course, they will be commissioned by the church, and when a need arises a Stephen Minister will be linked with that person.  The two will meet regularly as needed, as long as needed, and the Stephen Ministers will meet monthly to help each other in their caregiving.  Throughout, strict confidentiality will be observed, always under the supervision of the Stephen Ministry trainers and Co-pastors.