Rev. Ned Alderman

My father was a chief in the Navy.  His rate, signalman, no longer exists.  Dad retired from the Navy after 24.5 years and then worked at the post office for 10. 

In 1992, about six years after he retired from the Navy, Dad was struggling with our home church’s response to the first Gulf War.  He said that the senior pastor never mentioned the war but noted that the associate pastor mentioned it in prayer. 

At the time, I was working at Port Folio magazine, a lifestyle and entertainment weekly, and I told my father of a columnist who had written that 90 percent of clergy opposed the first Gulf War.  “So?” my father replied, “So what?  So did 90 percent of the troops; they didn’t want to be there, either.” 

I had no idea how meaningful my father’s words would become.  A few years later, while studying at Perkins School of Theology at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, I volunteered at the VA hospital in Oak Cliff, Tex.  My role was simple: one Sunday morning a month, I visited the rooms of new patients to tell them that worship was offered in the chapel and that they could attend in person or watch on closed-circuit TV. 

One Sunday, I had a couple of rooms to visit on a particular floor.  I walked by the room of a patient who was not new, and we made eye contact.  Seeing his truncated limbs, I thought he might be a burn and amputee victim, and I was somewhat relieved that I didn’t have to go into his room.  I passed by his room a couple of times while looking for new patients and we made eye contact each time.  My father’s words came back to me, and I realized that the patient probably didn’t want to be in the hospital, so I went into his room.  He asked for water.  I knew enough to know that I couldn’t give him water himself, so I told him I’d tell the staff, and did. 

I’ve learned since that the people called Methodist have a history of going into places that other people don’t want to be, and I’ve followed as congregations have led me into places such the Cheriton Volunteer Fire Company, the Foodbank of Southeastern Virginia and the Eastern Shore, and the Thurman Brisben Center in Fredericksburg.  This has come to help me appreciate Jesus’ words in John 20:21, “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” 

I look forward to seeing where we’re sent together. 

Gratefully,

Ned Alderman