Skipping church

Sometimes I wonder if going to church matters.

I walked into the bar this morning and this was the first thing I heard...

"Seriously preach, don't go canceling church again. We need that s*** man."

I had a wedding. A few people had a trip to the beach. We decided to just take a week off and recover/travel. Guess not everyone got the memo or agreed with the vote.

I walked in on a cranky group of people this morning. Short tempers and quick fuses. Cigarette smoke was extra thick and cuss words were flying. All I could do was laugh. Then someone else started laughing. Then we all laughed and someone said they missed Jesus.

We missed church. We missed communion. We missed being together. Maybe we were cranky because we didn't get some church last week.

That's never been the case for me in churches. I know a lot of people who secretly like when church is cancelled...they feel less guilty about not being there or not wanting to go. Church has become another obligation. Another thing they owe God.

After we laughed, we went back to yelling, cussing, and smoking. I didn't say we were perfect.

But I'm glad they value the space...

Pretzels, eggs, and the Trinity...

"Explain God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit and how they are work together because my trainer told me..."

That question flew at me this morning at church.

What strikes me is how sure I am about all sorts of things I think I know until I'm asked.

My first and most honest answer was "I don't know."

Seriously...you try and explain it to a group of people who don't know your Bible language. Who haven't read a commentary, or N.T. Wright, Tim Keller, or even Peter Rollins. You explain the ideas behind the Trinity without the benefit of passing them along to the senior pastor.

"I don't know" seemed like a good place to start conversation.

We fumbled around and talked about the Trinity being like an egg or pretzel. It was good.

In other jobs I've had "I don't know" would have meant upset parents, elder meetings, and discussions about my role...

I don't know. I like church when I don't have to know all the time.

When a church walks into a bar...

A church walks into a bar...

We just had one Easter service at the bar yesterday. We met a little early because our Baptist preacher friend was going to baptize a guy from his church. Before we knew what was happening the bar was filling up with members of his little Baptist church. Moms, dads, kids, and babies all dressed in their Easter best filled our little smoky bar.

We panicked to be honest.

We started serving drinks...non-alcoholic of course. Cokes and Dr. Peppers to the kids. Coffee for the adults. Serving, pouring, and leading was the owner of the bar who knows these people talk bad about her establishment because a few of them told her once when she visited their church. Everything was on the house and served with a smile. She even gave free refills.

One of us had a guitar and decided to play "Amazing Grace" as everyone was seated and just staring at us. Then we took them outside on our patio for more room. We stood and cheered as the preacher and his friend came out of the water. A few of my Catholic friends had no idea what they had just seen...they asked if that could be on next week's agenda.

We invited everyone inside for communion with us...only because they didn't leave and we didn't know what to do with them all. Our friend served bread and grape juice to anyone who wanted to join us. She's overcoming drugs and is trying to put her life back together. She's not always great at it. She lost her kids and desperately wants to get them back. She can't wait to tell her son that she served communion.

We shook hands and invited people back for a meal sometime. When everyone was gone, we laughed.

Nine people...a cook, a bar owner, a recovering addict, a hospice patient and her boyfriend, a chaplain, a bartender and husband, and one great friend of mine all laughed. We had just hosted a baptism and served communion to about 40 people on Easter...in a bar.

I promise we never planned any of it. Funny what God will do with a little space...

...and the bar served the church.

The New Normal

I like to think I try to be open to new.

My normal got new about 6 weeks ago. Each Sunday morning I drive 20 or so miles out to a little dive bar on Eagle Mountain Lake. Six to ten of us gather around coffee, doughnuts, and cigarettes and we talk about Jesus. A few of us know each other and others are meeting for the first time. We are Church of Christ, Catholic, Baptist, and mostly unknown. Some of us wear typical Sunday clothes and others wear pajama pants. Most of us come sober, but occasionally one or two arrive differently.

Each Sunday we read the Bible. The exact same Bible I've been reading for 33yrs. And each time has showed me that WHERE we read the Bible matters...

Want to see the creation story different? Read it with a group of people who can't imagine being created in the image of God because they've been told forever they aren't "good enough".

The fall of man? Way different story when everyone sitting there knows the dirt of everyone else. Something about our own equality makes reading God that much more real.

Discussing the 10 Commandments is totally different in a bar. Trust me.

Communion, complete with Welch's and official crackers, is special each Sunday because each time is a new experience for someone in the circle.

Most importantly we don't approach the Bible...there in that place...with right or wrong in mind. We don't have time for that. We get maybe 30-45mins and we try hard to spend it finding ways to interact with each other and Jesus through scripture.

We have no idea what we are doing or if you would call it right, acceptable, good, holy, or even orthodox. But we keep showing up each week and trying.

This is my new normal and any reader's prayers would be greatly appreciated.

Because I'm supposed to

This is the post where I have not written much in the past week and I think someone will be mad if I don't post. No one knows this is even here and it still haunts me.

I like making people happy, even when they don't know that they want to be happy. Some days are better than others and some days I never think about it. Today I did. So if you read this, I hope you are happy....

A wedding and a funeral...

I was asked on Tuesday to do a wedding for a patient's daughter. The next day I was asked to do a funeral for the wife of a patient I had 2yrs ago.

I'm doing the wedding because I think the mother should see her daughter get married before she dies. I don't know what responsibility I have to the couple and the commitment they are making. I'll talk about marriage soon. The wedding is about wanting to make a mother smile in her last days...maybe I'm selfish.

Tonight I'll head over to an funeral home and meet a family...again. I don't even know the woman's name. I did husband/dad/granddads service in March 2011. Haven't spoken to the family since that day. Tomorrow I'll stand up again and offer something. Seems shallow...

Seasons

Last night Alabama beat Notre Dame. In 60 short minutes college football ended. It's my favorite time of year. It means cooler air is coming and the holidays are around the corner. From the first of September through the middle of January, my Saturdays are filled with football.

Now it's over. Saturdays become about other things, but I'll always yearn for that first Saturday of September.

Life has seasons. My just happen to coincide with sports. I haven't named my seasons, but from now until April is about finding footing I think.

Im grateful for this past season. It started with a fun Saturday with friends, and red-shirt freshman, and a really good mistake at church.

Grace

I fail. A lot.

I wake up every morning determined to not fail and by the time I leave the house, I've failed at that.

I'm a failure.

And I wouldn't trade it for the world. In my failure I find grace. In my own loss, I find hope. I couldn't do what I do if I wasn't a failure.

I meet people who are dying. They have come to the end and it's very real. They, by their words, are failures. The first thing I try and tell them...I'm a failure too.

Then we decide to chase death together and find the hand of God at the end. It's beautiful actually.

I love grace.

Orthodoxy

"The word orthodox, from Greek orthos + doxa, is generally used to mean the adherence to accepted norms, more specifically to creeds, especially in religion." Wikipedia

I grew up in a wonderfully Christian family. I attended the Church of Christ for the 18yrs I lived at home (mom and dad still attend). I spent 4.5 years at Abilene Christian University. I graduated with a degree in ministry. I went directly into ministry at a good church for the next 9yrs. Needless to say, I know the accepted norms and creeds of my religious upbringing.

I have chosen to question most of them. Not reject them, just open them up and question them. I don't know if I ever got a chance to explore...that chance is now.

2013...

I have haven't posted in almost 2yrs. I don't really even know if I want to blog, but lets see if I can do this a few times a week.

It's 01-01-13...I'm a husband, dad, chaplain, and struggling follower of Christ. I lean to heavy towards grace and don't really know what it means to be orthodox. I believe that love always wins and that has lead to some scary and wonderful places. Hopefully this year will be no different....

I don't like to pray...

I don't like to pray out loud. It is just not something that I feel comfortable doing. I never feel like I use the right words and I seem to repeat myself all the time. I also don't always know what to pray for. Here is a person who is in pain and can't speak and I'm supposed to pray something for them? Doesn't make sense in my head...

Don't get me wrong, I pray for every person I go and see. I love to hold their hand and pray over them. Just sometimes I talk to God about how I don't know what to say. I figure they don't either and I feel a connection to that. Driving around in my car is when I talk to God best. It's in those moments that God seems to listen best.

Who knew my truck would become my Holy Ground?