It happened more than twenty years ago. Yet the feelings, fears, and realizations of the day in question are as vivid as ever. I had just finished my second year of college and was interning with a Methodist church in St. Petersburg, FL. I was priviledged to intern under a great pastor who was a master at providing memorable and learning-filled days. This particular day I walked into Roger’s office and he laid hands on me and prayed for me. He then told me to get my Methodist Minister’s prayer book and to head to the hospital for a visitation.

After swallowing my stomach, I managed a replied that didn’t do to well at hiding my complete and utter terror (I had no problem teaching, leading worship, public reading - really anything that had to do with being in front of folks - but one-on-one in a hospital - YIKES!). Now the person I was to visit in the hospital was in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit of the local Children’s Hospital. The little girl weighed less than four pounds and had been in an incubator under constant care since being born a few weeks before my visit. The 8 or so mile trip to the hospital seemed to take hours.

I stressed the whole drive. What would I say to the parents? What would they think of the Junior Pastor? What passage of scripture would be meaningful? How do I transition from talking about everyday stuff to spiritual stuff? How does Roger do this? Do I want to do this for a living? Who would know if I just drove around the hospital six or seven times and then head back to church? Am I going to be able to find the Neo Natal Unit? Do I touch the baby? Do I talk to this premmie? The questions just kept coming; hijaking my thoughts and tormenting me. Finally I arrived at the parking garage for my destination.

Well, after I got past the receptionist desk I found my way to Neonatal ICU. I got all dressed up in the required medical scrubs and made my way to my church member’s incubator. I arrived to find that both parents weren’t around… it was just me and this infant member of God’s Body. I stood there - a little like a deer caught in the headlights - I hadn’t prepared for this scenario! What am I to do? Will this little baby know the difference? I tried to put my fears and uncertainty aside and under the gaze of a doctor and a few nurses on the unit I put my hand into the incubator and stroked the little girls back and began to say the only prayer I knew by heart - I recited the Lord’s Prayer. I don’t know how long I was there - I recall praying the Lord’s Prayer more than a few times, I rehearsed Psalm 23 and a few spontaneous prayers (I forgot my Methodist Minister’s Manual in the car). Time seemed to go by in a flash and after wiping a tear from my eye my time with that little one ended.

I thanked the nurses for letting me visit St. Mark’s youngest church member and headed for my car. It was while I was driving back to church that it hit me for the first time. This visitation stuff isn’t about me or what I can do. It isn’t about what I bring to folks. Ministry, in general, isn’t about what I can plan or offer from some “bag of tricks.” It was about joining with what God is up to in our world. It is about a trust in the invisible Mystery of the Universe and allowing Him to be at work in and through the situations I find myself in. It is not about my words, or my insecurities, or my agenda or plan… it was and is and will always be about my faith in God revealing His Way and Will and Kingdom in our midst. That morning I saw a glimmer of God’s Kingdom shinning through in a pre-mature baby laying in an incubator gently and tenderly being cared for and remembered by the Shepherd of all of our Souls (my next solo visitation Roger sent me on a week or two later was to a gentleman in a coma from complications with AIDS - and there again the lesson was reinforced).