TJieodore W. Jennings, Jr. The Meaning of ... - Quarterly Review

week. The river wiped out the road only hours after we made our
escape.
If I ever see that other driver again, I'll tell him how hope and
grace rode in his blue Land Rover that wet Sunday afternoon. And
maybe he'll answer that we were his hope, too, as we honked and
slid past each other in the mud and rain before the flood. For the
folks in Perales, Vegas, and Lonpulla, the task of the church may be
only to confirm that there is still a road up ahead. To know that the
road is open, and that on it we are not alone—just that!—may make
it worth keeping on.
For many years now I've been going where the gospel has led.
Mission contexts and mission places. The inner city of the U.S.
Forgotten villages in Europe. The jungles of Ecuador. The new
teeming colonias of the world's most populous city. The war-torn
areas of Northern Ireland. Mental hospitals and orphanages.
Universities and seminaries. Rich churches and the poorest. Central
America, Andean Indian villages and fishing shacks in Chile.
Through all of these contexts, I've learned that my task as a
minister has more to do with being attentive to other people's stories
and agendas than relating my own. It's what the Latin Americans
call "acompaflamientopastoral." Just being there is most of it. But
being able to actively mediate some sign of hope, some human
affection, some ministry of the Word—that is really the job
description. And through this attentive presence, I've come to notice
that only occasionally am I the one with the most t> give. I'm
usually on the receiving end, one way or another the beneficiary of
grace bestowed through the faith and works—the stories—of humble
people.
When a moment looms chock-full of mystery ar d meaning, a
moment such as that weekend in Perales when the stakes were high
and the drama went on and on, I can only make sepse of it by
trivializing somewhat the intensity of shared feeling that I
experienced. There's a danger in too much explanation. Once we
think we can make it "make sense," we are already on artificial
turf, while the real stuff grinds through the mud and the flood . . .
and the blood.
Such narrative of ministry, or mission, points to another agenda
and a reality beyond itself. As a record of grace or tribulation,
tragedy or achievement, a parable doesn't need to be explained or
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