The Last, the Least, the Lost

I'm still irritated, even after a week to calm down. I mean, it's just such a waste, a ridiculous waste of a valuable resource. I'm so upset that I could just bite through my coffee cup. Hmmm, coffee, caffeine ... that may not be such a good idea this month. I've already had enough stimulation to keep me going for quite a while. What, I haven't told you about it? Oh, of course, you're on the other end of the internet. You couldn't have heard about the stupidity, the idiocracy, the ... uhmm, yeah. You don't want to hear raving. Please excuse my outburst. I shall try to control my emotions as I explain the event that has raised my anger. 

        Last Wednesday started out as a very nice day. Sunny and mild weather, it was a great day. "Good thing I announced the Red Cross blood drive in church Sunday," I thought, as I pulled into the VFW parking lot. "Cause it's such a good day, people will be out and about; maybe they'll stop by." I went in and got in line to give blood. I have 0-, almost a universal donor type and have given several times. It's such an easy way to help save lives, it's ridiculous to not give if able to. 

        Now a few years back, eight to be exact, I was deferred from giving due to a positive result in a unit I had given while living in Colorado . But I had gone to my doctor and was retested. The result was negative so I gave next time the blood drive came around. No problems. It must have been a false positive. Just a clerical error, probably. And after moving back to Illinois , I've given several times with no problem. Ahhh, but today was different. When they saw that I checked "yes" for having a positive test for Hepatitis B, there was a great deal of uncertainty. The first two nurses, after hearing my explanation, said "it shouldn't be a problem". But the third said I was unacceptable. She again listened to my explanation and called her superior. In the end, I was a "bad risk." 

        I guess I could understand their rationale. I would never want to infect another person with such a disease. But how would they know that? Not knowing me, they couldn't trust me. I called the number the nurses gave me. It was the supervisor the nurses had called. As we talked and she explained why they had to reject me. I understood her reasoning, but at the same time, thought it a mistake to not check out a unit of my blood. Surely that would clear up whether or not I was a carrier. 

        As it turns out, they did have results from my previous donations on file. And the results were negative for Hepatitis B. But since I had "volunteered" the information, they had to accept that as truth while not being able to accept the redeeming information right in front of their eyes. "Sorry FDA regulations." It was at this point I began to feel frustrated and rejected. And it only got worse. The people I had dealt with were very nice and apologetic. The supervisor even freely admitted that they were "shooting themselves in the foot" at times. They have to beg for blood donors but are forced to reject good donors do to FDA red tape.

        Yes, I am still agitated, even a week later. My daughter tried to understand me. "You mean you don't have to get stuck with a needle and won't feel guilty about it? Where's the down side?" She doesn't like needles. I smiled and realized I was getting bent out of shape for nothing. "How silly I've been," I thought. "I'll bet no one else complains because they can't give blood." But the need for my type of blood was only part of my troubled state. 

        Slowly, I began to feel the redness of my face and understood that I was feeling shame. Here I am, healthy, able and willing ... and rejected. My blood is as good as anybody's, maybe even more so than many due to its type, yet unwanted due to a misunderstanding. How dare they embarrass me by putting me on the national deferred list! It's just not right, I'm better than that!

        "Somehow," I thought, "this moment will end up on the devotion page." And sure enough, as I considered my conflicting emotions, my thoughts turned toward Jesus and the church. I began to think about how embarrassed and frustrated some people must be who come into our churches; especially the least and last of society. They accept the salvation of Christ, get excited and want to take part, but aren't invited to do so. They may not exactly be "put in their place", but aren't invited out of it, either. And that is exactly the promise of Christ; to lift us to a higher level of living, all equals in the family of God. We the "good church-people" want to save souls by introducing others to Christ, but stop there because we don't want to change the church.

        Not allowing the church to change stifles its growth. There is this crazy notions that God only works best in the upstanding members of the community. Those from less desirable backgrounds and environments should take the less important, unseen roles in the church. (After all, our church has an image in the community, doesn't it.) Yet, if we read our bibles closely, we find that just as often, the opposite is true. Check Jesus' genealogy in Matthew, one of his ancestors was Rahab, a prostitute. 

        I have no doubts that God is working in our communities again; and is working with the very least, last and lost living all around us. The more we resist their inclusion and influence, the greater the sense of frustration and rejection will be felt by these our new brothers and sisters in Christ. And remember Jesus' words, "When you did it to the least of these, you did it to me." Can you feel the frustration and rejection growing in Jesus? I did over the last week; as well as feeling shame for the bias I have toward others. Yet, I got to walk in another's shoes, even if just for a brief moment, and that has changed the way I view those who enter my life. Thanks be to God for my rejection. 

         Use those embarrassing moments in life to their full advantage. See life through another's eyes. And try to see God in everything that happens in life. It really helps on those bad days, I promise.