Wednesday night in SFC

It's becoming a bit of an obsession. Never in my life can I recall being this excited to spend time with the Lord.

I need to give you a bit of back story to truly describe Wednesday night. Last Sunday, I accidentally signed myself up to help out with VBS. Yes, me running around, influencing little kids and talking with them about God, sounds like a plan. So, how did I accidentally sign up, well, I walked into a meeting that I thought was for something else, and come to find out that it is an information meeting for the people that are helping put on this years Bible School. Oops!! Well, I like kids, and I had already made myself the free sandwich that they were offering, so I thought I'd stick around and see if there was something that I could help out with. The first character that I really would rather have been was Festus, an Olympic wannabe, not unlike myself, but the time requirement was too much and it would have messed with the Wild at Heart class that I'm teaching, not to mention the middle school camp that I'm helping with that same week. So, I landed the part of the pompous and arrogant, Senator. Now, this is something I can get behind, because, after all, up until a pants episode not too long ago, I was all of both of those things.

I was instructed by one of the teachers to get the script from her before I left, and well, I forgot. Maybe it was that she was my mom's age and flirting with me, or maybe it was that I had been at church longer that Sunday than most Mormons, I left without a script. But oh thank you Lord for Air Conditioning.

Wednesday morning rolls around and I was out and about. The temperatures were climbing to triple digits, and dry to wet clothing ratios were rapidly approaching pre-spin levels from the washing machine. I found myself driving by my church, and realized that almost all buildings in the world, unless they are made of ice themselves, have AC. I stopped, and ran into the children's minister, which I had met only once, and she acted like I was a long lost son, and was very glad to see me. She told me how glad she was that I was helping out, and asked me to stop by that evening to get a copy of the script for my part. This was easy enough, because, after all, Tuesday found my Wild at Heart group crowded around a laptop screen watching the DVD series, because the disc would not work in a regular DVD player. Paul agreed to loan me the brand new copies of the video series, so new in fact, they haven't made copies yet. So, my life hangs in the balance of these three discs.

Finally, Wednesday night. I needed to get my script, some things from Paul, and a little more of that AC that I love so much. One of my favorite worship leaders was playing, so I thought I'd poke my head in and listen. I sat next to someone I didn't know, hoping I wouldn't get immersed in conversation, and noticed another guy that I'm friends with, sitting alone, I thought I'd go say hi and then take off. Then Dave took the stage. That night he just seemed to have a presence. I listened for a little bit, then a bit more, and after a while, I realized I had sat through all of the service.

Was I surprised, certainly, but in a good way. There is so much God out there, and I'm just excited to get to spend time with him, and the more days of the week that I get to, the better. Yes, I realize he's always with me, and try to remain in constant conversation with him, but there's something about the fellowship of fellow believers that really makes me feel good and welcome.

Switching Cultures

In college, I once took an intro to anthropology class that emphasized the study of cultures. The class taught me a great deal, but one of the major things that it taught me is that there is a culture surrounding just about everything there is to do. Let's say that you're a NASCAR fan, yes, you can already imagine the people that are hanging out in the infield and sitting on top of their RV's watching the cars race around as they just get completely obliterated. There is also soccer mom's, an entire culture driving mini-vans and SUV's shuttling kids to practice, ballet, school, and the hundreds of other things that kids do.

I myself for the past 8 years have been immersed in "beer" culture. Whether it is in a bar, a fraternity, or a dorm room, there has been enough to go around, and enough that I have consumed to say honestly, that I didn't just fit into beer culture, I lived it, well and truly.

Lately, I've been different. I enjoy a drink now and then, but my driving movement through life is no longer the consumption of alcohol, but is now the consumption of the Word, my daily dose of Jesus.

Looking at these two groups of people, you can notice very quickly, that they are in no way, the same. One is based nearly entirely on sin, while the other is founded in the deeper understanding that there is something greater than me out there, that I should strive to be like, and push myself to be like. Transitioning between these two groups of people is running me up against a lot of really tough decisions, which include the worst, IMO, switching who my friends are. Many, if not all of my friends as I've matured, have been bar people that enjoy their drinks, and things don't seem to go too badly for them. Myself, however, I've run across several things in my recent life that are pushing me to become a better person. I've been in counselling, therapy for this and thats, various ministry opportunities, and in all of these things, I feel that I'm coming out better for the work I'm doing. I'm learning to like me again, and that my friends has been the greatest blessing of them all. If you don't know him yet, maybe you should check out this Jesus guy, and if you want to know more about him, feel free to send me an email, and I'll share you my personal experience with him. After all, He's quite a guy.

Cactus and a Flame Thrower

So as far as pastors go, mine is awesome. Steve Erickson is the associate pastor where I attend and he seldom actually speaks but when he does they are usually characterized by some weird collection of quotes and quite a few of them tend to be... well... bizarre.

Senior Pastor was gone today and, you guessed it, that meant a message by Steve. I was forewarned as to the nature of Steve's antics for the day by the head of men's ministry, who announced my class I'm teaching, and made me wave to the entire church. After all, if he's uncomfortable, then you have to be, too.

Steve's messages are usually short, but today, it was longer than his normal, but I'm fairly sure that nobody paid attention to the length, we were too concerned with the Strawberry plant that Steve made. Yes, Steve made a strawberry plant. How, do you ask? Why, by sticking strawberries to a cactus of course.

Today's lesson was from Luke, John the Baptist in the desert announce the one that was coming that he was not fit to lace his sandals, and he would baptize in the Holy Spirit and Fire. Steve spent a fair amount of time explaining the nature of fire, how it consumes, mars, changes the nature of things, and tempers. He promptly demonstrated these things on a paper doll, enter the flamethrower, or at least a propane torch, that he used, in the sanctuary, to a collected intake of breath from the front row.

Eccentric, yes, crazy, yes, and he'll admit them both himself, but at least it makes church interesting.

Just a Man

I like to think that I'm important. Really important. Like... so important you just can't imagine how important that I really am until you understand the scope of reality that I'm really a part of. Yes... that makes me very arrogant, and I'm OK with that as long as you understand, that I'm very important. Or at least that's what I thought until Thursday of this week.

In trying to prove to myself how great I am... I performed a RUMJUNGLE. For those of you who don't know what that is... a rumjungle is when you draw attention to yourself to do something that is far and away cooler than anything that you've ever seen before, and then you totally blow it and end up looking like a complete idiot, or... fill in your own adjective.

Growing up I've always associated the humility of great men with the phrase "I put my pants on one leg at a time". In order to prove that I am greater than any great man... of course I have to put both legs in at the same time... It failed!!

I have a very good vertical leap. I ran track and am quite athletic and among my other events, I was a high jumper, so I figured I would have the time, and after all it was only a pair of shorts. I leaped into the air and threw my shorts under me to catch both legs as they passed through leaving me standing with my pants in place and catapulting me into the annals of greatness along such people as Walter Payton and the guy that invented silly putty. Upon my return trip to Earth, one of my feet caught and I ended up sprawled out on the floor with one leg half in, and just my foot of the other. There was no one watching, but my pride took a tumble and I must for once and all, accept that I am... Just a Man, and I must put on my pants, one leg at a time.

The Higher Search for Meaning

I'm full of frivolous American BS. I was born here, I live here, and likely, I'll die here *queue the Bruce Springsteen music. I can't escape that on some level I'll never be able to understand a lot of what happens around me, but in my search for true understanding I go anywhere and everywhere that I can to understand what really, can't be understood.

Never stop seeking!! No matter where you have to look.

Fuzzy Memory

So, I broke down, jumped on the bandwagon, and I did, it, I'm on facebook, but what is really disturbing me is all the people who are finding me that I went to high school with, that I really just don't remember who they are.

I've been trying to recollect several of the people that have invited me to become friends and I'm realizing, that I wasn't really friends with many of them. I could point them out in hallways, and I could carry on a conversation with many of them about what classes they have taken, which teacher they like and dislike, and also, who around the school they just can't stand. It saddens me that I never really took much of an interest in many of the people that I did attend school with, because I missed out on some truly interesting people. Shallow as I was, many people I never saw past how athletic they were, how attractive they were, or who else they hung out with.

Now... I don't pretend that I am the cock of the walk, but I sure thought I was, then. Many of my friends sure thought they were, but I look back, and see we were all frightened little boys who really had no idea what it was we wanted, so we tried to appear cool.

I guess this post is coming to me because of my aging situation. I'm approaching my 10 year reunion. Yes, that's right, 10 years, and I'm concerned that my attitudes towards many of these people might still reflect how I saw them in high school, and not the wonderfully interesting people that I hope to see in them now. It'll be a stretch to see past many of my stereotypes, but I hope I'm up to it.

Also, Reader, I believe you have me pegged, but I can't for the life of me figure out who you are.

Wild at Heart

I've been now at the same church for well over a year, and it's the first time I've been in any church for nearly so long since I left home almost 10 years ago. A feature of my church is the "man board" which in these past few months, I have found lacking. There is a reference to something called "Wild at Heart" which is a book by John Eldredge, well written and full of insights into the man's soul. Some women would smirk here and say there's not secret to seeing that, but look closely I ask you, and see what might actually be there. I'm finding a deep, DEEP sadness, not only my own, but my brothers, my friends, other guys from my church, what is there to do for it? Find out why it's there.

Tonight, I'm doing just that. A small group including myself are going to undertake the challenge of this literature. As a group to keep us accountable, but for me, I'm doing it so the class will actually take place. I'm looking at having only 4 or 5 men join me, but if it's one, it's worth the adventure.

I hope your prayers will be with this small group, my one reader, for honesty not only to each other, but to ourselves, and that you'll think of us Tuesday evenings.

Ending yourself

I thought seriously about naming this post "killing yourself", but that doesn't quite describe what I want it to say. "Killing yourself" might get the authorities knocking on my door and arresting me to sit in a room with no one to talk to all day long, while I try to figure out why I'm trying to kill myself, but in actuality, I'm not.

Ending yourself is completely different. I'm at a point within my ministry where I'm perceived in a certain way, and I don't want to be that guy. I'm the "young" guy. Not even 30, and I spend the first Tuesday of every month with a group of middle aged guys and we talk about Men. A great topic for men to talk about, unless you are the boy in the group. I'm not there because someone reached out and shook my hand and pulled me along to be there, I'm there searching for myself, and I'm certainly not finding what I sought. I've made some good friends, and those guys, I think, see me as another guy, instead of someone that their daughter might date.

So how does this fit with ending myself... I'm no longer going to be the young guy. If they want to reach out and talk with me, they can, I'll be their equal, but I won't be just some kid who they entertain because I'm around. My life has sucked at certain times, and I feel like I have some experience to share, if not as much as some, so I'll be me, and if it isn't who they expect, all the better.