Climbing Up to the Roof

I spent a little time on rooftops as a teenager, though I wasn’t preparing for any of those Matthew 10 moments where Jesus tells his disciples to proclaim God’s word from the rooftops. Back then, a good roof was best used for sneaking out of the house and finding more trouble. My childhood was chaotic, and I contributed heavily to that chaos. I skipped school whenever I thought I could get away with it, and I found trouble with remarkable consistency. Our family didn’t attend church, so faith played no role in my life—we didn’t have a Bible on the coffee table, and we certainly didn’t have any of those pesky Sunday-morning routines. I was not a promising candidate for ministry, and if someone had told my fourteen-year-old self that I would one day become a pastor, I would have laughed. To be fair, everyone else would have laughed too.

Todd’s grandmother, though, wasn’t amused. Todd and I met when we were young teenagers. He was living with his grandparents and being shaped by a faith tradition that mattered very deeply to them. Then along came “that girl” with no church background, no interest in religion, and very little evidence that she would become the kind of person they hoped their grandson would marry. Looking back, I understand her concerns. She loved her grandson and wanted the best for him, and her imagination did not have room for me.

Years later, she surprised me. We were sitting at her kitchen table covered with a gold tablecloth and decorated with chicken placemats, and that eighty-year-old woman reached out and took my hand. We had known one another for nearly twenty-five years by then, and things had been tense many times. But at that table, she told me she had been wrong. She said I had grown into a good woman who clearly loved her grandson, and she apologized for the pain she had caused me when I was young.

Maybe that is why I paused over Jesus’ words this week: “What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs.” That word translated proclaim is the language of heralding. Heralds would climb to the highest place in town to announce the news that they had been entrusted with. I never expected to be entrusted with anything holy. There was a time when I knew almost nothing about Jesus, yet now I spend much of my life talking about him. I never could have imagined this life, so I certainly never would have planned for it. But God saw my story—warts and all—and still asked me to carry good news into the daylight.

Perhaps that is worth remembering when we look at the people around us, and even when we look in the mirror. God doesn’t give up on writing new chapters for any of us. For a long time, there was no sign of personal faith in my story. But God has a habit of walking with people down unexpected roads. Sometimes the teenager who skips school becomes a pastor. Sometimes, even the girl who sneaks out the window winds up proclaiming good news from the rooftops.