His Name is Earl

This is Earl wearing a funny hat

This past Monday morning I had a pleasant surprise. I got a visit from Earl, a man I haven't seen in many a year. The light was off in the entryway so when I heard the front door open and someone coming up the stairs I rolled my chair over to the door of my office to get a look-see. By his silhouette, I didn't recognize him for Earl has lost perhaps 70 pounds since I last saw him. But the moment he stepped into the light of my office, I knew him immediately. "Do you know who I am?..." he playfully asked as we eagerly embraced.

When we came to Chetek in 1991, Earl was the pastor of Chetek United Methodist. With his long, bold, white hair tied in a pony tail and usually sporting an EMT jacket he made an instant impression on me (as in, "Who is this guy?") He was in town this Monday to conduct a funeral. We moved into the sanctuary so we could more comfortably visit. Sitting across from me he sized me up and said, "Well, I see you've lost the suit." Dressed in a long sleeve tee and jeans, his comment brought a smile to my face and a vivid memory to mind.

The only pastors I ever had as mentors in my Bible school years were good men who believed in dressing your best for your job. They all wore shirt and tie, dress pants and polished shoes for their daily attire (even at the Saturday morning prayer breakfast!) This must have been before "Casual Fridays" were invented. In any case, when I landed here I just assumed that this was the proper uniform for a minister to don. Not that I cared to dress this way but I certainly didn't want to create any waves unnecessarily by dressing down right off the bat of my time here. Until one morning in mid-November of that first fall in Chetek when Earl and I happened to pull up at the post office at the same time. He was wearing jeans and his EMT jacket and I was wearing a trench coat over what had quickly become my standard suit and tie. "Who do you think you are?" is what he said to me. I was a little taken back since all I had said to him was, "Good morning." "I see you dressed up like that a lot," he answered me, "as if you have somewhere to go and I was just wondering if you like dressing that way?" "Frankly," I told him, "no. As a matter of fact, I don't. But I just thought that this was what was expected of me." "Lose the suit. Wear blue jeans if you like 'em. Be yourself," he told me with a smile. "Don't try and be someone that you're not." I've gone casual ever since and I've always been grateful to him for that good advice.

He left Chetek after an 11-year run and took a church in Milwaukee that was right off Wisconsin Avenue and near the hotel my uncle used to own. I recall one summer day when we were down that popping in for a visit after he had relocated. He retired in 2004 and after two years, he told me, he was "bored stiff" so he went back to work. He got a job on a cleaning crew at a Ronald McDonald House with an injunction from his boss that he was not allowed to pray with anyone due to his long resume as a pastor. If his boss didn't want him to pray with anyone it would have been better for him not to say anything at all to Earl on the matter rather than giving him a cause to champion. Fortunately, she did say something because one day while he was cleaning he noticed a poor mother weeping uncontrollably. Her baby had just died. He sat down beside her and patter her hand until she settled a bit. She then asked him if he would pray for her (not knowing that he was a "former pastor") and, as he tells me the story, "I told her I would but not here." He escorted her down to the non-sectarian chapel and prayed for here there. It riled his boss up a bit but now four years later Earl the janitor is their unofficial chaplain.

He missed preaching and said as much to a friend who is a Methodist official and shortly afterward became pulpit supply to a small, dying Methodist fellowship "five miles west of East Troy" (he told me with a grin). There were eight people present on his first Sunday. They average 25 now and that growth has forced the powers that be in Methodism to refrain from closing the doors - at least for the time being. I think that gives Earl a small sense of satisfaction.

Prior to retirement he became very active in the Interfaith Conference of Greater Milwaukee, an ecumenical council made up of 13 denominations who advocate for the poor and address other social justice issues. Under his leadership, they have made monies available for poor families seeking loans for home improvements. And during the last few years, he and his wife, Audrey, though senior citizens, have become surrogate parents for a young girl whose mother is an addict. Their relationship with the girl stems back to when her mother was attending their church and pregnant with her. She asked Earl after church one Sunday if he wanted to help save a child. When he asked her which child she simply patted her abdomen and said, "This one." For a long while, the mother was clean but now has been sucked back into that lifestyle. So, Brianna, who is eleven now, has a safe place to be and grow up.

In that half hour or that I caught up with Earl, he shared with me about his Muslim neighbors "in the hood", the two guys with whom he and Audrey co-own their duplex and several other bits of trivia from his life since leaving Chetek. If ever I needed proof that "the gifts and callings of God are without repentance" here it is. They can push the old horse out to pasture but they can't put him down.

Earl's a lot thinner now

I marvel at the guy. He is a strange amalgamation of theologies, on the one hand able to tell you his faith-story of hearing the audible voice of God and his conversion at a Billy Graham crusade and on the other to affirm that Muslims and Hindus, though on different paths, will certainly find their way to heaven; practicing presence-based ministry like few others I know while attending a church whose pastor is gay ("I thought I was liberal" he chuckled, "but she's such a good preacher") But for all that, this man, title or not, is a pastor and his visit on Monday morning warmed my heart. Not only was it good to see him but it was good to be reminded that certain gifts that come from God are not determined or restricted by the vote of a certain group of individuals. I'd like to think that the good people of Refuge will embrace me as their pastor forever. But it may not be so. I may get old and slow down and they may then want some younger guy to fill the chair I now fill. To be fair, it may be the only way to get rid of me! But if it ever comes to that Earl's example reminds me that in these things God has the final word on the gifts he shares with us. After all, "Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen in Narnia." Refuge may come to a point where they feel they do not need my gift any longer but there will be others who will and may yet benefit from it albeit, perhaps, as one of those Wal-Mart greeter guys who welcome you as you enter their store.