On a recent flight, I had the opportunity to watch the movie "Evan Almighty." I'm going to be honest: the movie was abysmal. It was a waste of good acting talent and two hours of my life. However, it did have one moment of brilliance.

There is a scene where Lauren Graham (Joan) has left Steve Carrell (Evan) with their 3 sons in order to protect herself and their children, for fear Evan has gone insane. (Evan believes God wants him to build an ark to save the world from a flood that is coming on a certain day, September 22 or something.) They're in a restaurant, and the boys go to the bathroom and she's left alone for a few minutes. Morgan Freeman (God), dressed as a waiter, comes over to "take her refill order" and engages her in conversation. When she tells him about the dramatic turn her husband has taken, she says, "What do you think it is?" His answer is, "Opportunity." She looks at him curiously, and he continues. "When someone prays for patience, do you think God gives them patience, or an opportunity to learn patience? When someone prays for their family to grow closer (which she has prayed for in the beginning of the movie), do you think God gives them warm fuzzy feelings, or an opportunity to grow closer, side by side, like those animals who came on the ark?"

in a movie that was absolutely a waste of brain cells, that was a great point.

it also made the point that God has a master plan, even if we can't see it. All the disasters that happened to Evan and Joan's family ended up working out for the best, and giving them exactly what they had hoped for.

If only the rest of the movie hadn't been a total waste...

When the mail came today, it looked like an ordinary bundle - some bills, some junk, pleas from the ballet and the opera to continue donating to them. The last thing I came upon, tucked toward the back of the stack, was a notice from the post office that I had a package waiting for me. How exciting! Not only do I love getting packages in the mail, but I love the excitement of wondering who it might be from. I rushed to the post office and waited with anticipation while they retrieved a nicely sized box from the back. It was only when I looked at the return address on the box that I remembered a student I had been counseling had asked for my address. Wondering what she may have sent me, I hurried home to open my parcel. In it, I found a wrapped package and a letter. Resisting the temptation to open the package first, I reached for the letter and found a two-page eloquent thank you for all the help I had given her. In the envelope, she also included a friendship bracelet she had made. I couldn't even bring myself to open the package at that moment, because I felt so overwhelmed. Here was someone who I simply helped in a time of need, which in my mind, means I'm just doing my job. Little did I know how much it helped or meant to her, for the parcel that rested on the counter in front of me was such a generous effort to say thank you that I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Ministry is funny that way. You can only do what God has asked you to do, what Jesus has modeled for you to do - love others and reach out to those in need - and pray that God will use you to bring the necessary consolation or help into that person's life. I opened the package. It was a hoodie (my favorite) with the name of the student's college beautifully stitched across the front. To say that I was touched would be a dire understatement. I didn't even feel comfortable trying it on. It was as if fully receiving this gift of thanks would somehow be saying that I took credit for helping her. There was no way that I, left to my own merits, could have such deep impact on a person. I called her to thank her and tell her she didn't have to do that. She said that indeed, she did, because she owed me a lot. We argued about it a few times back and forth before we both gratefully said good night. It was only then that I removed my own sweatshirt, with the name of my graduate school printed across the chest, a name I had earned with excessive hours in the library and too many all-nighters to count, and tried on this piece of clothing that I still felt didn't belong to me. I looked in the mirror. There I was, just plain old me, but in someone else's clothing. Clothing I did not earn or deserve, despite what someone else might think. A wolf in sheep's clothing, maybe; it's not that much of a stretch. I felt like a misrepresentation of the institution scrawled across my chest. I remembered feeling like this before, when I tried on the spare habit of a nun friend, and the clerical collar of a minister friend, at times when I was considering those paths in ministry. The sight that greeted me in the mirror tonight was the same that greeted me then: that I was "clothed in righteousness" like the Psalms say, but that righteousness only went as deep as the fabric. I felt unworthy to ever wear any sort of habit or collar, and I feel unworthy to wear this sweatshirt. Despite feeling a call to ministry my entire adult life, putting on the cloth that goes with it has been something I've only been comfortable with in my imagination. I haven't followed the path toward a habit or clerical collar. But I'm going to keep this sweatshirt, and I'm going to wear it, not as a symbol of my ministry but as a reminder of the ministry that God does through me. As it warms me with a divine embrace, I am happily reminded that our weakness is God's strength. Putting on the cloth, whether it's a hoodie or a habit, doesn't infuse you with any power of your own. It can only serve as a reminder of the ministry you are called to: the ministry of being God's light in the world, a ministry in which you are a conduit, a means to an end. I hope that this cloth will preserve in me the humility to always remember that.

It's not knowing yourself that's hard - it's acting on that knowledge.

I have a song stuck in my head right now. This happens a lot. Sometimes it's annoying, but sometimes, like now, it's a really good song. Right now, I have dcTalk's "Colored People" running through my head. There are many reasons I love this song. In addition to the music, the lyrics have always resonated with me: lyrics praising God for the diversity of this world, and how through it all, we are all human and we all have something in common because of it. In the lead-in to the refrain, the first verse says this: "We've gotta come together and thank the maker of us all." The second verse says this: "We've gotta come together; aren't we all human after all?" I always thought that the repetition of this phrase, using slightly different words, had a certain musical impact: you expect the same words the second time around, and because they change slightly, the point is driven home that we are all human and thus need to come together. But tonight, those words are hitting me differently. I actually think that dcTalk hit the nail on the head the first time around. Tolerance, understanding, and seeing what we have in common as human beings aren't the end; they are the means to an end, and that end is praising God for God's creation. "We've gotta come together; aren't we all human after all?" is the first step. "We've gotta come together and thank the maker of us all" is what we are aiming for. Tolerance for the sake of tolerance - promoting a "live and let live" policy for those whose race is different from our own - does not praise our Creator. Thank you, dcTalk, for reminding me (10 years later) that the diversity in this world isn't just something to tolerate or understand. It's something to love, appreciate, and celebrate. It is one of many things in creation that points to our almighty Creator, who thankfully created this world in living color.