Rooms of Grace

Today is Thanksgiving, here in the US. My wife has a large extended family and we gather every Thanksgiving. There are nearly 50 of us now, and the tradition is for us to sit in a big circle (before Thanksgiving dinner) and say some things we are thankful for, each of us in turn. I am thankful for my family-- for another year to enjoy them. (You think being with them is a given-- something that will always happen-- but it's not.) And this Thanksgiving I am also thankful for the memory of Jay Turner.

Big Jay (my private name for him) towered over us in so many ways. Physically, he was a tall man, but not giant-- 6'1" or 6'2" maybe? But he was larger than life spiritually. I met him three or four years ago when I was invited to a fellowship dinner at Rooms of Grace. This ministry is a halfway house associated with Celebrate Recovery and is a home for men who have been through prison and addiction and are trying to get their lives back together. Jay was the Director, and lived with them there. I am reminded as I write this of a scripture passage, 1 Samuel 22:1-2, about when David was running for his life from king Saul. Here it is, quoted from The Message:

So David got away and escaped to the Cave of Adullam. When his brothers and others associated with the family heard where he was, they came down and joined him. Not only that, but all who were down on their luck came around-- losers and vagrants and misfits of all sorts. David became their leader...

Yeah, it was something like that. These losers and vagrants and misfits of all sorts lived together in fellowship at Rooms of Grace, and Jay Turner became their leader. He helped them with recovery, led them in Bible Studies, and helped them find jobs and get vehicles. Jay hosted a fellowship dinner on Thursday nights, and started doing church services on the second Saturday night of every other month. The inaugural service was August 9. We had a baptism in a horse trough, under a carport during a heavy rain. I led worship on guitar, and my friend and fellow cancer survivor Phil Patterson preached. It was a beautiful night. At the Thursday night fellowship dinners, someone would give a devotional, and we would have the opportunity to share what God was doing in our lives. Perhaps more importantly, we had the platform to share what we needed God to do in our lives. We would then pray together-- praying for each other and for our country-- and then we would feast. One of the supporters cooked food every Thursday, and it was amazing.

I started attending the fellowship dinner right before my cancer diagnosis, and the group supported me through the whole treatment ordeal and aftermath. They took up a collection and bought me gift cards and gas cards to pay for my gas as I commuted to Charleston for treatment, nearly two hours away. They stood by me, gave me room to vent, and continuously prayed for me. This name of the ministry was well chosen. It was a place to share where we had grace for each other like God has grace for us-- right in the middle of our mess. Rooms of Grace indeed!

Around the middle of October, Jay wasn't feeling well and got checked out. Preliminary results indicated liver cancer, prompting a PET scan on November 3. This scan showed nodules in the lung and ribs, and led to a treatment plan of chemo and immunotherapy. On November 6, I shared with the group about my own recent work accident where I was nearly crushed by a slab of falling stone, but escaped with only a broken rib. God had previously showed me a vision of my own bare feet as I stood at a threshold of a door. I wrote a blog post called Naked at the Threshold of Eternity and made the point about being ready to step naked before God into eternity. Naked, visible, and known. No baggage, and nothing hidden. And it could happen at any moment, because tomorrow wasn't promised. I shared it with the group on November 6, we prayed over Jay, and that was the last time I saw him. The following Thursday I had worship team practice, and the one after that (one week ago today) he was in home hospice.

Jay stepped across that threshold this past Sunday morning, ahead of me. And I shall miss him. I shall miss his bear-hugs, and constant affirmation. He had the gift of encouragement, among other things. Oh yes, I shall miss him. But Rooms of Grace will continue on, under new management. I will definitely see him again, after I cross that threshold myself when my own work is finished. His face will light up again, he will give me the biggest hug, and we will spend some time catching up. That's how I imagine it.

This Thanksgiving I am thankful for the memory of Jay Turner...