Volunteer with 'willing heart' offers counsel and care in time of need

In the town where the Rev. Dr. George "Spike" Coleman grew up, the wounds of segregation were still not healed during his childhood years, the Southern brand of robust Christian evangelicalism was gaining national influence, and a small colony of Cuban exiles had established itself.

Religion was a central force among many families living in Lynchburg, Va. Coleman grew up Methodist and became especially active during his college years, discerning a future in which his faith would steer him like a rudder in the waters of fellowship and human compassion.

Many years later, he would choose to focus on those people typically forgotten or marginalized, people whose suffering was noted sometimes in newspaper articles but too often ignored or shunned by all but the professional responders who are paid -- or called -- to offer aid, comfort and healing.

Joining the Coastal Crisis Chaplaincy would open a new chapter for Coleman, one that emphasized his pastoral commitment as leader of St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church.

A worldview shaped

Jerry Falwell, who remained an influential force in Lynchburg until his death in 2007, did more than most to shape some of the big questions Coleman faced growing up, he said. What is the nature of Christian fundamentalism? Is Scripture inerrant? How do Christians engage in political discourse and activism?

Coleman's mother gave her 5-year-old child a dollar to buy a Slurpee at a 7-Eleven. He struggled to express what he wanted to the clerk. Falwell, standing in line behind him, assumed the role of interpreter and helped Coleman achieve his goal. Afterward, he walked the young lad to the car, where his mother waited, and introduced himself.

Later, Coleman would learn of Falwell's dedication, and the legends of his Christian largess. Coleman considered these stories and learned a lesson: There is no obstacle great enough to stop you from answering God's call. He did not always agree with Falwell's theology or tactics, but he respected the preacher for his commitment and generosity.

Other experiences also shaped his worldview.

Growing up, he socialized with Cuban emigres who'd settled in Lynchburg. Coleman would hang out at the home of one Latino family, listening to stories, eating savory foods and catching a glimpse of a vast world beyond Lynchburg. One day, Coleman sat in their living room watching baseball and listening to the hum of a language he did not understand. Suddenly, shots of English would bombard him out of the blue when members of the family wanted to include him in the conversation, then the language would default again to Spanish.

The experience showed Coleman that "normal" is defined according to circumstances, not prejudice, and that as a citizen of the world he was obligated to stretch himself beyond his comfort zone.

And in the 1970s and '80s, church was an extension of the community, not distinct from it, and lots of young people were involved, Coleman said.

At the University of Virginia, where Coleman studied rhetoric and communications, he first felt called to the ministry. It started innocently enough. A college pastor put him to work passing out bulletins, taking up the offering, greeting churchgoers. Soon he was reading Scripture, then he was invited to lead a Methodist worship service.

Scared, he focused on the task at hand, appreciated the presence of worshippers with their eyes closed in prayerful contemplation, and tried to ignore one young friend who made faces in an attempt to distract him.

An inner voice would not be silenced. And after fulfilling some leadership roles, Coleman felt good about his place in the church. "At first I dismissed it (the idea of a life of ministry), but people saw something in me," he said.

His pastor kept giving him opportunities. "And I took them."

Widening perspective

By the time he was enrolled at Duke Divinity School, his Spanish was functional. He spent one summer in Duke's chaplaincy program, working at the school's medical center and providing spiritual aid to a number of Latino patients, some of whom spoke only Spanish. He went on mission trips to Mexico, Nicaragua and El Salvador.

These were heady years of intellectual pursuits, Coleman said. He studied hard, read widely and honed his theological perspective.

Some of his professors and classmates who helped him figure out what a life in ministry really meant were Presbyterians.

Coleman, influenced by them and attracted to a church polity system that relied on congregations to "call" their ministers rather than on bishops to appoint them, migrated from Methodism and transferred to Union Seminary in Richmond, Va.

"There is no perfect system," Coleman said. "As one of my professors said, you have to decide which foot you kick better with."

Later, he would kick the ball to Columbia Seminary in Decatur, Ga., to further his studies. Steve Hayner, seminary president, was Coleman's doctoral adviser.

"Probably the thing that I appreciated most about Spike as a student was his teachability," Hayner said. "He has a natural curiosity -- about people and about congregational life -- and it has served him well."

Coleman's interest in the wider world was manifest during his school years, as was his interest in the inner life of the church congregation, Hayner noted.

"He's not afraid of new experiences or new ideas, and pursues them both energetically. From the very beginning of his doctoral studies, he was always asking how what he was learning could apply in his church. He wasn't as interested in theory or abstract theology as he was in practical application."

Ministry of caring

After completing his studies, Coleman spent three years at Rivermont Presbyterian Church in Kinston, N.C., where he was ordained. In late 1997, he moved to Charleston and assumed the pulpit at St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in West Ashley.

He attributed his longevity at St. Andrew's to a shared vision.

"The heart of it is that there is a connection, or consistency, between the passions of my heart and those of the people here, in terms of the way they care about the community and love God," he said. "People here deeply, deeply care about one another and their neighbors."

When Mary Jane Keathley's husband was dying a slow and agonizing death in a hospital, Coleman visited every day without fail, and despite obvious (and understandable) discomfort, she said.

Keathley is now music director of St. Andrew's, but during those difficult 72 days in 2006, she was simply a church member. Sometimes, in the dark hours of the early morning, Keathley said she would escape to a hidden stairwell and scream.

"Spike would find me," she said. "There is a kindness in him, and there is a gentleness and a sincerity that isn't always there in everyone."

So it came as no surprise when Keathley learned of Coleman's interest in the Coastal Crisis Chaplaincy.

Nor did it cause church elder Garrett Mitchener any consternation.

"He's a very smart guy," Mitchener said, adding that he's interested in psychological health. "So we're doing a study on Christian methods of conflict resolution."

When Coleman first approached the church leadership about volunteering with Coastal Crisis Chaplaincy, Mitchener worried that he was taking on too much.

"But it seems to be working well for him, it seems to be very natural for him. He's very compassionate, very understanding."

New chapter

At a recent three-day training class that drew about 45 attendees from across the United States, the Rev. Rob Dewey explained the ins and outs of crisis response. The best service to provide the public involved in an incident is information, he said, without imposing your agenda. It's about a "ministry of presence." Be content handing out water if that's what's needed. "I've never had a complaint on one of our chaplains who goes in with a servant attitude," Dewey said.

Then he turned to Coleman, who months before completed his chaplaincy training, earned his certification and was named a Rookie of the Year. Dewey, senior chaplain and founder of Coastal Crisis Chaplaincy, wanted him to explain the lessons learned during a ride-along with police, and Coleman ticked off his responses:

--You build relationships with officers.

--You learn about the challenges they face.

--You see your community from a different perspective.

--You develop an appreciation for law enforcement and emergency responders.

A couple of weeks later, Dewey called Coleman an ideal student.

"He's low-key, wants to learn, has a teachable heart, a willing spirit and he's a real servant."

Today, Coleman is authorized to join crime scenes independently. His Spanish comes in handy, though he's had "to learn a whole new vocabulary," he said, words such as "coroner" and "suicide" and "homicide."

His chaplaincy work has exposed two raw sides of humanity: the side that includes pain and suffering, and the need for counsel and care, and the side where people work day after day to respond to the emergencies that cause sirens to sound in the night.

"I have met some amazing people," Coleman said. "They provide service to the community we so take for granted."

And so, at 47, Coleman's ministry has taken a new turn. It's unlikely to be his last.