Tagged: God
Why Did You Pay Me? – Part 2
A few weeks ago I wrote about how I was struggling tremendously with the notion of salaried pastors. I was struggling because I am essentially in training to become a pastor and yet I couldn’t imagine how at the end of my schooling I’d somehow be willing to not need a job anymore because some congregation paid me to be their pastor while they worked their crummy jobs everyday. In an effort to gain insight and make a point, I asked why did you (the public) pay me to be an Air Force officer and pilot. Only a few folks answered and there wasn’t tremendous agreement. But I know why you paid me even if you don’t. You paid me to be virtuous. Sure, military officers are “yes men” and flawed no different than anyone else, but we’d be missing something vital if we didn’t recognize that they still possess tremendous power and regularly refrain from abusing it. Military officers control the bombs. Do we want incompetent liars in control of the bombs? No. (Iowa might). So I say that the reason American citizens pay their military well (sorry folks, but the military is well-paid despite the colloquial wisdom) is because it creates the ability to recruit and maintain a virtuous fighting force.
Back to pastors. And not just any pastors but me and my future as (possibly) one. What would it mean if I took pay to be a pastor and therefore didn’t need a regular job? Here’s how I can comfortably rationalize it. (The following should come as no surprise). Christians believe in purpose. They believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, his only son, our Lord…insert the rest of the Apostle’s Creed. And yet they live in a world which behaves as if there is no purpose. Therefore, it is very easy to forget that there is purpose. How could they be reminded that there is purpose? By a leader who is designated to keep an eye on the prize, so to speak. (Remember that the reason we know, rationally, that purpose is objectively true is that it is beneficial to live accordingly, which then becomes self-fulfilling as a result.)
I started this blog with the tag line “the only way to get there is together”. I think that that is still true and theologically sound. When I came up with the additional “life on a different plane” tagline I did not intend to capture anything to do with God. Now I do.
When I served, I was a pilot of a crew helicopter. There were six of us on the crew. Four of the six served in auxiliary roles which enabled the two pilots to focus on keeping the greasy side up, as we used to say. Besides simply flying safely, the two pilots were also the ones ultimately charged with completing the mission.
So that’s what I’m proposing now. That’s what I’m comfortable with today. Maybe I’ll be a pastor someday, maybe not. If I am one, the reason I would be comfortable being paid by the congregation for what I would consider “doing nothing” is because I would interpret the monetary part of it to be that my role is again that of a captain which necessarily requires a certain level of discipline. The congregation is no different than the four non-pilot aircrew. They are doing jobs that I view as crummy, but until we collectively come up with something better those jobs are apparently necessary. Necessary? Necessary for what? Necessary to keep the plane (the Church) right-side up, safe, and able to complete its mission, its purpose.
For now, crummy job or not, keep on keeping on. I will too. And together we’ll get there.
Coincidence or Calling?
In an ideal world managing a strip club is unlikely to occur along the path to Glory–the key word being “ideal”.
Here’s something I wrote late December 2014 (certainly just a coincidence–I turned 34 last July): “33 is a big year for me. Laughing, I told George the other day that only after having finished this book did I remember that I predicted back in church camp years ago that 33 was when I’d start my calling. Ha. Everyone else always acted like it was in/around college that they would begin their calling. Well, at 18 I said that I felt mine would begin at 33 because that’s how old Jesus was (give or take) when they killed him. Immature, misguided, morbid, delusional, but true [I said it] nonetheless. And you can bet I never imagined my calling would be a book centered on divorce. Suffice it to say, I can’t wait to hit 34 and laugh at my prophetic abilities. Either way, I’m certain that no matter what it is going to be a helluva lot of fun.”
That was about two months before my first day (on the job) at the club.
Five-ish months later I was sweating whether or not I’d get my application to a master’s program at a seminary in on time. (New passenger? Welcome aboard. Now read this.)
When I visited campus they had a movable-type board with my first and last name on it welcoming me. Imagine me staring in disbelief at the board. It had my name and the name of the woman who I went to church with (after skipping for a decade) and whose pastor introduced me to N.T. Wright’s New Testament and the People of God books back in 2013–the reading of which subsequently led me to return to church Dec. 2014. Naturally, the name on the board wasn’t representative of my friend, it was just that there is more than one woman with that first and last name and apparently one of the other ones was visiting campus that day. Coincidence–that one’s easy.
Hoping to move onto campus asap, and with my current lease running out in October, I discovered there was no room at the inn. At least until December, but even then it would be iffy. May for sure, they said. Setback.
Then in late September as I was trying to make arrangements with my apartment office, I stopped into the campus housing office and they actually had a family moving out mid-semester due to finding a ministry position that wanted him before the semester was up. My lease was up in October and so I moved onto campus in October. Ehhh. That one could go either way, coincidence/calling. Let’s stick with coincidence.
December 11th rolls around; it’s the last day of class. I completed four of five finals on that day alone. And I was alive. Full time work and 15 hours of masters courses passed. My folks were scheduled to visit us over Christmas and then I’d catch up on some Greek before the spring semester started.
December 14th I’m fired from the club. Despite having been promoted to manager in record time and receiving a healthy raise only a month earlier, “Poor performance” and “making employees and entertainers alike uncomfortable” the reasons given. Uncomfortable? God doesn’t exist, right? Masters in theology shouldn’t be any different than a masters in literature. Whatever.
H- and I were therefore able to visit my folks and siblings etc. and when we returned I headed to a pizza place to inquire about a job as a delivery dude. When I was applying (my first time in the store) I saw a familiar face in the back and soon discovered he’s familiar because he’s the vendor that also delivered to the club. His high praise added to the moment and I got the job. I’m sure his being there was a coincidence.
So this semester I’m paying the bills, and have plenty of time to dedicate to my studies, which may or may not be my calling.
Just Left My First Christian Apologetics Class Session
For those rusty on theological terms, when Christians use the word apologetics, they intend to communicate its root sense which is “to defend”, not in our common sense of admitting fault. Be that as it may, my question to any readers with time and energy is, “What is a Christian?”
In other words, (and I asked this in class just now) “What does conversion look like? How can I measure whether I have defended Christianity? What am I selling? What are people rejecting or ignoring?”
Three Random Thoughts
It’s true, I’m a confirmed bachelor. But you’re not going to ask me to stop dreaming, are you? Well, as you can imagine, delivering pizzas in the 21st century involves a lot of time interacting with a GPS. Last night these two worlds combined. If I ever re-engage in the battle for love, I think I want a woman who will give me the same relationship that I have with my GPS. I do what she tells me, but I choose where we’re going.
Before work, I was eating and I cannot eat by myself without watching something on the internet these days. I ended up watching Jordan vs. Lebron youtube videos. I’m not sure what exactly triggered the following thought, but if I had to guess, I think it is all the young guys at work. I was thinking about what it was like to watch MJ play every season and besides the fact that no basketball player will ever capture kids’ attention in the same way due to the amount of social meeja distractions, there is something more. I grew up on movies which had Rocky Balboa giving all his strength, all his power, and all his love to win championships. Real life had MJ winning and winning and winning. It’s difficult to say who was more influential to me, but a great life lesson was contained in the fact that both lived by the same ethic. Who do kids have today?
When I first began a search for a church home just over a year ago, I noticed that many churches I visited had an older congregation. The churches that had younger congregations clearly catered to them. They had power-point, beautiful praise teams, and a very professional feel–no mistakes. The church I chose, thought I didn’t know it at the time, has something like 100 members who have been members for 50 years or more. And there aren’t many members my age that attend regularly. But I have come to love my church more and more and here’s why. What type of Christians do you think go to same church for 50 years? Scratch that. Let’s try, what type of Christians do not go to the same church for 50 years? 50 years? I can’t even conceptualize that behavior. Yet, after getting to know my church’s members a little better over the past year, I want my walk with God to be more like theirs. Talk about living faithfulness. Christianity is not about church, folks. It’s about God–God about whom the psalmist wrote Thou faithfulness is unto all generations: thou hast established the earth, and it abideth. 50 year relationship? I’m in. Are you?
Oh. And a fourth. You know how sometimes you are texting someone and it’s not going well so you admit that there was a “text fail”? Yeah. It’s time I confess to the world that I am a text fail. Proceed at your own risk.
Psalm cxix. 90
Sermon #1
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.
Concerning Prayer – Part 1
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.
While I’m On The Subject of Jesus…
As I mentioned a few posts back, for most of my adult life pizza delivery always has received a nod as lucrative part-time work. As I recently developed a need for part-time work, I decided to test the theory. A shop nearby had a sign in the window, so I applied, got the job, and can formally report the rumors are true. It’s good money per hour. The trouble is Americans are trained to view dinnertime as only a three-ish hour window. That said, my new goal is to train you all to think dinnertime is all day. Wish me luck.
Only slightly changing gears, I found myself adding some pepperoni to a sandwich yesterday at home, and I realized that if I were giving the Sermon on the Mount, or perhaps it’s safer to say, if Jesus was here today and gave that sermon, he could easily have substituted the word “pepperoni” for “salt” when he declared, “You are the salt of the earth,” without losing much theological ground. Just sayin’. I can’t think of the last time I added salt to anything. But my fridge hasn’t been without a red Hormel pepperoni bag in over a year. Sandwiches, salads, burgers, and of course pizza just wouldn’t be the same without pepperoni. White gold was soooo yesterday. Red gold is where it’s at. Can I get an amen?
I wonder if it would improve waffles. Anyone able to report?
By the way, did you know that Oprah eats dinner every meal? It’s true! I swear it!
Why Did You Pay Me?
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?
Baby Steps – Epilogue
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.
Baby Steps
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.
Captain’s Log 