John Brooks walked over to the fireplace and let his eyes settle on the photographs lining the mantle. As he stood there lost in memory, his daughter Mary walked unexpectedly into the living room and asked, “Dad, what are you looking at?” The question caught him off guard, but he answered, “Oh, just looking… just reminiscing. How did you kids grow up so fast? It seems like just yesterday you were playing with dolls and having fun in the sandbox. Where did the time go?” Mary considered the question and shrugged. “It’s inevitable, Dad. That’s what kids do. You didn’t expect us to stay little forever, did you?” John replied, “Well, why would that have been a bad thing?” Mary shot back, “Are you saying you don’t like us now that we’re grown?” John hesitated, then said, “You know I’m proud of how you and your brother turned out. Time just shot by, and now with our busy lives, we don’t seem to have fun together like we used to. Not to change the subject, but what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the courthouse defending your client?” Mary countered, “Shouldn’t you be at the church doing what you do?” John remembered her lingering resentment about growing up as a preacher’s kid. “I’m waiting for your mother,” he said. “She’s supposed to open the daycare today. And I tell you, talk about time flying—where has summer gone? Here it is September, and we need to get the fall ministry projects going.” Mary fell back into the recliner, stretching her legs out as if relieved that none of that “church stuff” was her responsibility. “Well,” she scoffed, “it was your idea to start this mission church. I don’t know why you weren’t satisfied pastoring a regular church. You made more money, you had health insurance, everything was comfortable and predictable—and definitely less dangerous. Some of the people you work with now are dangerous. I know; I’ve defended some of them. What were you thinking starting this?” John looked directly at her. “Mary, God didn’t call me to a ministry that’s cushy and comfortable. He called me to meet people’s needs, to serve, to reach out. Having a church board breathing down my neck about every program and trying to please two hundred people all the time wasn’t fulfilling or enjoyable. Yes, this mission church is a challenge, but it’s exciting and rewarding. It’s what I look forward to every morning. I love helping people and being there for them. And you can relate to that—you enjoy helping people in your job too. Sure, you make good money, but that’s not what drives you. If we can’t make a difference in people’s lives, what real purpose do we have?” Mary sighed. “Wow, Dad, you get dramatic in the mornings. I get that you want to be more involved and not have to kiss up to church people, but some of the folks out there don’t want help. They don’t want you in their lives. And if you push at the wrong time, they won’t think twice about taking your life. I’m asking, Dad—is it worth it?” Before John could respond, his wife Molly came into the living room and dropped a bag of toys and her lunch onto the dining table. “You two have the day off?” she asked. “Must be nice to stand around while the rest of us work. What were you talking about anyway?” John grabbed his coat and headed toward the door. “Nothing that can’t be tabled for another time. Mary, lock the door before you leave. Your mother and I are headed to work. And by the way, have a great day.” Mary turned toward the kitchen, but before they stepped outside she called, “This subject isn’t over. We’re going to talk about this.” A moment later, the house fell quiet.
