Kidding. Well, sort of kidding. I gave the following speech for my number ten speech in the Toastmasters Competent Communicator manual a couple years ago. A fellow member, in her evaluation, mentioned I should think about becoming a pastor. Naturally, I shrugged off the suggestion. That moment is fairly laughable these days.

In any case, I watched it the other day and kind of inspired myself. So I thought I’d share. It’s ten minutes, so it isn’t short. But it’s worth it. (Even on mute. 😉 )

Click here.

How does one pray? That was my starting point. I wasn’t concerned with silent prayer, but an out loud prayer which I had resolved to perform by myself in my apartment. I hadn’t prayed out loud for over a decade, but had decided that I wanted to break the streak. I was going to pray an honest-to-goodness heartfelt prayer–no matter how weird the physical manifestation of this desire felt.

“Should I sit? Should I stand? If sitting, can I be reclined?” I wondered. None of those options felt natural. “Ah, kneeling,” I remembered. “I could kneel. Yes, that seems universal. I will kneel at my bedside in a classically American nighttime pose of prayer,” I determined.

Leaning over, my elbows resting on the bed, I closed my eyes. My mind traversed all the greetings I could recall from all Christian prayers I had ever heard. “Dear God”, “Father”, “Our Father”, “God”, “Heavenly Father”, “Jesus”, “My Lord”, and a few others passed between my ears silently. But none came out.

Naturally, I was embarrassed by this speechlessness. It is a rare thing. I tried to rationalize and told myself, “Don’t sweat it. You’re praying the Lord’s Prayer in Greek when you read your homework. That should count.” But it doesn’t count. When I do that, I’m working on pronunciation, not speaking from the heart. Then I became a skeptic and thought, “This is bullshit anyhow. There’s no God. That’s why you can’t get yourself to address one.” But that felt more like a lie than counting the Greek thing did. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t address God, Almighty God, the Creator, the Maker of heaven and earth out loud because I didn’t feel worthy of an audience with Him.

In seminary, as in most formal education, some classes have the word “survey” in the title. “Survey of (whatever).” Well, as I was kneeling there speechless, I surveyed my life and concluded that for the last 12 years or so I had been in the muck, in the mire, and been offending God. Physically, I would describe the feeling that overcame me as I concluded this as that of my heart imploding. Shoulders collapsing forward together. However slight the offense began some years ago, it culminated in my last job. I wasn’t (don’t) feeling guilty about nipples or alcohol or partying–that’s an entirely separate discussion. My feeling of unworthiness stemmed from the fact that that job fully highlighted that I had been living without purpose. Or for the wrong purpose (fame or money) which is the same thing. Here I am, a created being brimming with potential, and I have been living most of my adult life without regard for my Creator. And now it’s been so long that I feel like the gulf between us is too great. The worst part is that I know the end of the story and yet I still feel this way.

In any case, you’re going to get another post in a couple hours which contains a link to a speech I gave a couple years ago. It’s about 10 minutes long, but the audience in the room seemed to think it was alright, so you might too. More to come concerning prayer.

Prayer, the fairly abstract concept that sometimes seems little more than wishful thinking, has been making headlines of late. Over the last year, I have surely had a robust internal prayer life, if I use a more liberal definition of the word. But I haven’t prayed a prayer out loud in some time. I remember I prayed out loud a couple years ago, but I’m ashamed to admit the circumstances, so I will not. But before that prayer, it was a good decade of not praying out loud; a good decade had passed of not putting my voice to the task of addressing Almighty God.

As one can imagine, I have come to the conclusion that this pattern needs to change and that I want it to change. So last night, I set out for myself the goal of praying out loud.

Before we get to the result, I have something to ask of you. I want to know something from you. I know, I know. I ask a lot of you. Many of you have shared that you don’t read any of my Christian posts, I am certain I have lost many of you in my posts of wanton rage–what is commonly referred to as venting–and I know I lost your confidence in my posts which revealed that I have misrepresented myself in the blogosphere in order to gain customers (a failed endeavor, btw). But I still have a question:

Why did you pay me when I was in the Air Force?

Obviously, you don’t need to include in your response the pertinent fact that you were required to by law, that you didn’t exactly have a choice. In answering, let me remind you that I was an officer and pilot, special operations at that. In other words, by all accounts, you loved me while I was serving. I’m not asking for evidence of this love or flattery (though human nature will not allow me to parry any attacks), what I want is to know why you paid me?

Was it because you wanted some humans to die and some property to be destroyed and yet you didn’t want to do it yourself? Was it because someone (your parents or grandparents or friends) recommended me? Even now, when I no longer serve, I still have several friends who do serve and we’re all paying them. Why? What good or service did I provide? Did you feel safe because I stood on the wall? Did you purchase a “feeling”? After 9/11 did you want your money back? How about after the Paris attacks and after San Bernadino? Did you “feel” you received equal value for the money you put forth?

Or maybe you’re buying virtue? Is that what I was selling? In the Air Force, the core values are Integrity First, Service Before Self, and Excellence In All We Do. I’m sure the other branches have their own values, some might even be more eloquently stated. Is this what you wanted? Buying a McDouble requires a certain level of integrity, but if the employee made it with the proper ingredients and only the proper ingredients, I don’t think I would inquire as to whether or not he ascribed to an over-arching code of conduct before I decided to purchase the burger. But defending a nation seems to necessarily require a code of conduct that reaches all aspects of a soldier’s life. Is that why you paid me? As reward for or incentive to live virtuously? A “someone has to protect, but not just anyone will do; so we must pay him to be of sound character (whether in reward for behavior already witnessed or as incentive to live up to high standards)” type of monetary exchange?

Tell me. Please. Why did you pay me?

Christian theology has four sources. They are scripture, tradition, reason, and experience. Even the order of the four sources matters. A difference between Protestants, Catholics, and Orthodox Christians is the order. Evangelicals in particular, but protestants in general, begin with scripture. The Catholics and Orthodox elevate tradition to an equal footing. But everyone–me, you, everyone–has to reconcile their own reason to include their own life experiences with their theology. (Yes, I’m implying that everyone has a theology even if they won’t admit it.)

Here’s where I’m struggling on an personal level after last semester’s experience. First, what does a Christian do with dumb people? Yeah, yeah, I get it. That’s not the charitable or gentle way to put it, but it works. And there are dumb people. I am talking about actually uneducated, ignorant, un-reflective, and just plain un or mis or ill-informed people. It seems hopeless. And on the other hand, in recognizing dumb people exist, I find great motivation to make sure and educate the shyat out of my daughter. Maybe she’ll reject Christianity along the way, but she is going to at least develop the ability to think so that some day she may possess the ability to draw the Christian conclusion.

Second, my ex-wife is not a believer. While I wasn’t either during the marriage, and while the doctrinal claims of religion weren’t even close to a sore-spot cause of the divorce, I just don’t think I would be divorced had I been married to at least a cultural Christian. It’s been three years, and one self-published pseudo memoir since the divorce. Yet during today’s exchange of the joint-child, I was once again overcome with such a palpable emotion of rage–a rage which has as its only appropriate expression utter and total stillness–that I immediately became ashamed. You there! Jesus loves you! You, over there! Accept Christ’s atoning sacrifice and be saved! Hey, you! Passerbyer! Join me in Christian brotherhood! But her? For all I care she can finish off this life ignorant, aimless, and full of unrealized potential before burning in what I hope is a literal fiery pit of hell for eternity. And the fact that I feel this way is not right. It’s just not right. But it’s how I feel or my experience, nonetheless.

The point is I have a sneaking suspicion you might relate to these two experiences. I have to believe that Christianity has some answers, but I don’t see them today. I share this because I am confident that I am in the process of a transformation. The main reason for my confidence is that I am terrified of the effort that I know it will take to change my perspective.

Anyhow, pray for me.

For irtfyblog

Like Billy Joel, I have a tendency to go to extremes. I have drawn some preliminary conclusions about where I’d like this blog to go, particularly the nature of the writing, post-first-semester of Seminary. But while I have no problem with the concept “fake it ’til you make it”, when it comes to the Christian walk, I want to “keep it real” as well. For Denver residents, that means that I want to be (all together now) authentic.

I just got back from an impromptu visit to my hometown, the same hometown of the 2015 World Series Champion Royals, for Christmas. While he at least begins to skim my blog posts, my tall, handsome, and hard-working brother-in-law asked me the question again.

“So, seriously, do you want to be a preacher?”

Before I had finished my preparatory-inhale, he added, “The short version.”

Re-capping a bit, I need money to live. I was paid money to work at a strip club beginning early last year. I soon was promoted to manager and secretly confessed to a friend that the work was alright, but that I thought I probably would need to hit a seminary if I wanted to get back into heaven. As the fall approached and new kindergarten-related bills arrived, I saw the need for more money. Given that I have a GI Bill at my disposal and that this GI Bill pays out a healthy monthly stipend, I very quickly determined that my schedule could in fact support a masters program and chose a seminary. Finishing a nearly double full-time course load a couple Fridays ago, I was fired the following Monday.

The seminary I am at includes a 4 or 6 semester character formation program that students must enroll in and pass in order to earn their degree. This, I am told, makes it unique in the world of seminaries. Anyhow, the point is, that I am now registered for another full-time semester and about to try my hand at part-time work once again.

Admittedly, however, circumstances as this semester approaches are quite different from those last fall. The word I’m thinking about a lot these days is “transformation”. Whatever other options are supposedly available to accomplish a transformation of a person’s life, the one I’m staring at is called Christianity. I am still in the midst of a by-all-accounts rough transition from Air Force life to civilian life. But I haven’t given up and my haphazard efforts (what we used to call “all thrust, no vector”) have landed me at a training ground for Christian leadership. These days there are degrees in all sorts of areas from counseling, to pastor-ing, but given the general response I’ve received, I would be remiss if I didn’t confess that, yes, pastors-to-be still account for many, many students. A fellow-classmate of mine eloquently summarized his take on seminary-to-be-a-pastor as “really, pastors are just supposed to be Christians”.

Do I want to be a pastor? Do I intend to be a pastor? Let’s see. I ain’t skerred to give speeches, I have a demonstrable inclination to a life of continuous learning, I write well, I have and can play a grand piano, and I have trained-to-be/been a leader (at least in title) for nearly my entire life. But I don’t have a building, am still acquiring a sound theology, and *big surprise coming* could use a refresher course on character.

The strip club seemed inclined to see where my future lay, so they cut ties. Most of you can’t understand why I would get this degree if not to become a preacher. What does everyone know that I don’t?

Here’s my answer. In the voice of my brother-in-law’s wife’s celebrity crush since she first heard of him as a teen, “Or as the good reverend would say, ‘Why we’re on this particular mission, here today, we’ll never know…'” So I don’t know. (Continuing in the same staccato as Harry), but I do know…that I don’t believe in wasting opportunities.

PS – If you are a fan or want to become one, check out his live performance of Come By Me from last summer.