Nurturing Community, Encouraging Family

As I've shared in previous blogs, I retired from the fire service in June of 2001 after serving for several years in paid, paid-on-call, and volunteer capacities. It gave me the opportunity to meet many wonderful and devoted folks, and yesterday I attended the funeral of one of these folks, a man named Joe Drewry. Joe lost his life after a brief struggle with cancer. He was 72.

His son Tony asked me if I could participate in the funeral by presiding over the Last Alarm-Bell Ceremony - a part of the liturgy of a firefighter funeral in which we honor the life of the deceased and honor his last call to Eternal Life. I couldn't say no. The good news was that my Class A uniform that I retired in still fit. The bad news was the occasion in which to wear it.

I knew Joe by reputation before I ever met him personally. He was the father of a college classmate, and I was not disappointed when I met him in person. He lived up to what I had heard about him, and more. I've seen men who loved their community, but never one quite like Joe.

Joe was a twin, and he and his brother Jerry began their lives with a rough start; their mother died a day after giving them birth from delivery complications. Their father raised them on his own. More tragedy in his life: he buried his wife 24 years ago, and buried his older son Burt last year. All of those things could have created a very angry and bitter man.

That wasn't Joe. He was one of the most affable men I ever knew.

Joe was a Boy Scout leader. He taught hunter safety classes to children and youth. And he served the Greenfield Fire Department for 52 years, in capacities ranging from firefighter to training officer to deputy chief. He went on a fire call as late as 2009. He also wrote several grants for their fire department, one of them allowing their town to achieve a Class Four insurance rating. That is quite a feat for most municipalities, but an incredible feat for an all-volunteer department in a town of 2000 folks.

At graveside, when he was paged over the department radio and we heard the silence of him not responding, I began to weep. Not just because he wasn't answering, but because I know fewer and fewer people answer such a call to service anymore. Not just to volunteer firefighting, but to service to their communities. After the radio dispatcher gave a period of silence after calling his unit number, she responded that Deputy Chief Joe Lane Drewry was released from answering any more alarms. Her last words were overcome with emotion. It seemed to me not just the end of Joe's life and service, but a death knell to all the Joe Drewrys in the world: those who love their community and give back more than they were given. Those who loved children besides their own to pass on legacy and experience and love. Those who believe it takes sacrifice and investment for their communities to thrive and grow.

The body of Christ, the Church, is far from just an institution - it is a family. The Greek word is oikos, which means household, but even that definition doesn't do the word justice. "Family-like community" might be more accurate. It describes what the family of God should be like. It is part of God's design. It allows us to be disciples and to make disciples. We practice being the Kingdom of God so we can proclaim the Kingdom to all.

Communities are living entities, and like living entities they require nurture and care. Joe, and people like him, are the lifeblood of communities. It is so very similar to the way Christ modeled community life and sacrifice to us. It doesn't have to be drudgery - I cannot recall Joe doing much in his life that he hated. It was certainly hard work, but Joe was in the middle doing it.

I am reminded of a quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer's book Life Together:

The...service that one should perform for another in a Christian community is that of active helpfulness... Nobody is too good for the meanest (i.e., most menial) service. One who worries about the loss of time that such petty, outward acts of helpfulness entail is usually taking the importance of his own career too solemnly. We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God... [I]t is part of the discipline of humility that we must not spare our hand where it can perform a service and that we do not assume that our schedule is our own to manage, but allow it to be arranged by God. - from Life Together, reprinted 1954, p. 99

An investment in our community is an investment in the family of God. It is an extension of our discipleship. And it is a practice of our love for brother and sister. I hope folks like Joe aren't the exception, and that they become the rule. We are created to live in community, and not as individuals.

Such is the family of God. So give. Nurture. Encourage.

Pax,
Sky+

A Well-Deserved and Usually Forgotten Thank You

This Saturday, there is a dinner honoring and thanking the firefighters and spouses of the Reidland-Farley fire district, and they will be presented a gift. Our church, along with all of the Reidland area churches, is helping to contribute to and support that cause.

I was a firefighter for several years, and worked in paid, paid-on-call, and volunteer capacities. I served as a dispatcher, a nozzleman, a driver/engineer, a chaplain, and as a line officer. It is hard work, it is dirty work, and it is dangerous work. I retired from the fire service in 2001.

We are very blessed to have the fire department that we have. They are well-equipped and very well trained. And I am always very quick to correct folks when they say that someone is “only” a volunteer firefighter or that their local fire department is “only a volunteer department.” In this day in age, volunteer firefighters and departments - by law - have to have the same training and certification as paid firefighters do. And, because volunteers are on call 24/7, they actually work more fires and have more experience than several career firefighters. Why do they do it? They love and care about their communities.

It takes time; time away from families, time away for leisure activities, and when duty calls, time away from things like Christmas and birthday gatherings. Nearly everyday a fire engine or ambulance drives by my office. As I glace up, I see a fire helmet and shadowbox of badges from former departments I served hanging on the wall next to the window, and I always say two prayers: I thank God that I was never seriously hurt or left my family without a husband and father, and I pray that the men and women in that fire engine or ambulance are also spared from harm.

Author Kurt Vonnegut once said, “I can’t imagine a more stirring symbol of man’s humanity to man than a fire engine.” And he once told his wife, “[A] fire engine goes by… And I give them the thumbs up.”

Next time you see a firefighter, thank God and them for their service. And whenever you see a fire engine, whether on an emergency run or not, give them the thumbs up. Pray that God keeps them safe. For all you know, they may be on their way to your house.

Pax,
Sky+

Everything That We Know, All That We Love?

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine. When you pass through the water, I will be with you; in the rivers you shall not drown. When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned; the flames shall not consume you. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your savior. - Isaiah 43:1-3

That's me at a much younger age... and wearing something different from a clerical collar and suit.

I rarely watch movies or television shows about firefighters; I was a firefighter and EMS responder for over 12 years, and I either get bothered about technical inaccuracies or too caught up in the emotions. But I watched a good movie the other night; Ladder 49. A little bit about the movie:

Under the watchful eye of his mentor Captain Mike Kennedy (John Travolta), probationary firefighter Jack Morrison (Joaquin Phoenix) matures into a seasoned veteran at a Baltimore fire station. Jack has reached a crossroads, however, as the sacrifices he's made have put him in harm's way innumerable times and significantly impacted his relationship with his wife and kids. Responding to the worst blaze in his career, he becomes trapped inside a 20-story building. And as he reflects on his life, now Assistant Chief Kennedy frantically coordinates the effort to save him.

I went into several burning buildings in my life, and I always prayed the words above from Isaiah each time. Contrary to what most people believe, firefighters are usually scared of fire – because they intimately know what it can do and how powerful it can be. I’ve never failed to be thankful that I was never seriously hurt. In all of those years I only had one close call.

Twelve years in the fire service also taught me a lot about camaraderie, teamwork, and brother/sisterhood. You put your trust into so many persons: the person on the nozzle with you, the pump operator supplying water, the rapid intervention team who will come in after you if something goes wrong, the officer in charge of the incident… the list goes on. Even weeks of training at the fire academy couldn't wholly prepare me for the real thing. I remember going into my first burning house with Jerry, a seasoned firefighter. The room next to us suddenly flashed, and I wanted to run, run, run. He put a hand on my back and said, “We’re okay. I’m not gonna let you get hurt.” And then he proceeded to teach me how to cool down a room, how to fog your nozzle stream, and how to think like the fire in order to find it and extinguish it. I learned the difference between acceptable risks and stupid risks. He helped make me a good firefighter. And I passed on the craft to others as I got older.

Most firefighter shows and movies end with a tragic death, and having officiated at three firefighter funerals myself, it’s the part I don’t want to see of the movie. The wail of bagpipes, the lineup of firefighters and engines from neighboring departments, honor guards, dress uniforms – all very impressive, and all very depressing to me.

But Ladder 49 was a little different. A funeral takes place in a large Catholic church. In his eulogy, Chief Kennedy concludes by asking the congregation to stand and give thanks for the life of the fallen firefighter. The congregation stands, and they clapped with thunderous applause. Firefighters saluted. They walked in formation behind a fire engine that served as a hearse for the coffin. It was respectful, and it was a celebration.

It begs the question: why does the fire service, law enforcement, and the military have the best funerals?

My hunch is that it has something to do with the way we approach Christian discipleship… or more accurately, how we don’t approach it. Churches often get a rap for being cold, unapproachable, or even downright unfriendly. Worse, it’s been said that the Church is one of the few institutions that shoots its wounded. While I might take exception with anyone saying these things to my face, the fact that they’re said means that the perception is there.

One of the tag lines for Ladder 49’s movie trailer is this: “Everything they know, all that they love, is what they risk every day.”

Man, that’s good. I wish someone had thought of it for the United Methodist Church before we adopted “Open Hearts, Open Minds, and Open Doors.”

The observation has often been made that many bars have better community life than some churches. I would place public service personnel even higher than that. Why is it that the Church abdicates to other organizations the very ideals and roles that it is supposed to excel and take a lead in? And why is everyone else taking risks while the Church plays it safe?

Kurt Vonnegut once said, “I can think of no more stirring symbol of man’s humanity to man than a fire engine.” I pray that one day, people will once again say that about the Church... and the Cross.

Pax,
Sky+