Osler's Razor

One week ago, on Sunday, evening, I was coming home from something and saw my dad (my parents are visiting) heading out in his car. I asked where he was going, and he asked me to come along and find out.

Unless you know my dad, you don't completely understand the import of that invitation. He is kind of unpredictable-- there's an awful lot of places he might have been going at 8 pm on a Sunday, from some barbecue joint to the home of people he had just met. This evening, I found out, he was heading for a local church that was hosting a benefit featuring several black gospel groups.

We did not fit in, and not just because we were white. We came in late, very late, unlike everyone else. We were wearing jeans, and the rest of the crowd was wearing dark suits or dresses, hats even. We sat in the back and listened. The music was wonderful-- Waco's own Gospel Sons were my favorites-- but we didn't stand up like most in the audience.

After the singing was over, my dad wandered off someplace, so I sat awkwardly by myself in a rear pew. I looked up at people as they walked by, and a few came over and shook hands. Before long, a man dressed in a suit came over and smiled kindly at me in my jeans and t-shirt. He handed me a little brochure. "Hey, friend, if you are looking for work, the census is looking for people. It's minimum wage, but it's good work." I took the brochure and thanked him.

I need to have that happen to me sometimes. It is a very real part of me that actually is that guy, the one who sits in the back of the church in the wrong clothes and may need a job, and I need to be reminded of that every so often. I think maybe that it is that part of me, the guy who looks like he might need a job with the census, who has a heart most open to the will of a loving God.