Something I never thought I'd say at work

Yesterday was Sunday, and I was in charge of preaching. Today our custodian, who had been at our 8:00am service, came up to me and asked what I did for the sermon at our 6:30pm service. You see, our 6:30 service is our "contemporary" service and usually attracts a much smaller, more casual crowd. And my answer is something I never thought I'd say at work:

"Well, it was pretty much the same sermon I gave in the morning, except without the fireworks, noisemakers and orangutans."

Meme: My Faith, My Tattoo

Adam Copeland over at A Wee Blether is conducting some informal research about people of faith and their tattoos. Seeing as how I have one, I decided to help him out and answer his questions. So, here goes:

1. Describe your tattoo(s):

I have one tattoo on my right shoulder blade. It's a red cross behind an icthus (sometimes called a Jesus fish). I have ideas for other tattoos (all faith-oriented) that I think about getting. We'll see if I ever do.

2. What made you want that tattoo?
I had been contemplating one for a while. I ended up deciding to go and get one my last summer as a camp counselor. There was a whole group of us who decided to go and get some ink one weekend. I didn't set out to get this specific tattoo, however. I told a co-worker, who I knew was artistic, that if she drew something I would get it tattooed. So she did, and I did.

3. How did your faith influence your tattoo, indirectly or directly?

I have always been a very faithful person. In fact, the summer I got this tattoo I was working at a church camp, and it was also the summer before I headed off to seminary. A tattoo is a unique and fun way to share your beliefs or what is important to you. So a cross and a fish, two symbols of Christianity, seemed like a good way to share what is important to me.

4. What's the relationship between your tattoo and your broader understanding of your body?

My senior pastor has told me on numerous occasions that I should never play poker. I have a hard time keeping a straight face in a lot of situations. People can tell, by looking at my face, what is going through my mind. In fact, there is some statistic (that I can't remember and so I won't quote) that says that a majority of communication is nonverbal. We use our faces and our bodies to communicate all the time. My tattoo is an extension of that.

5. Was it worth it... do you have regrets?

I see my tattoo everyday in the mirror. Everyday I look at it and I appreciate it. I appreciate what it stands for, I appreciate what those symbols mean to me, and I appreciate the memories that it brings back of the time in my life when I got it. Never once have I looked at it and wished it wasn't there or that I hadn't got it.

6. What funny story has happened because of your tattoo?

I have several stories about it that are kind of funny. I'll only share a couple. Since I was a camp counselor when I got it, I know that I didn't take care of it like I should during the first few weeks. There are guidelines about what you should and shouldn't do for a couple weeks, and going into a chlorinated pool is one of the things you shouldn't. But I worked at a camp with a pool, and had to go there everyday with my campers. Trying to explain to my boss that I'd rather sit on the side of the pool and not get in because I decided to get a tattoo during the summer would not have gone over well. The campers would not have been big fans of this, either. And I'm not one to sit on the sidelines and let other people have fun. I like to be in the mix. So I ignored some of these guidelines and played in the pool. Well, one day in the pool, I was giving a camper a piggy back ride. Now, when tattoos are healing they will scab over. You are not supposed to pick the scabs as that can affect the coloring. But I'm giving this camper a piggy back ride and he says to me, "Is your tattoo real?" and I said, "Yeah it's real." and he replies, "No it's not. Look, I can peel it off!" I told him not to do that, and thankfully he didn't because not only could it have made some spots on my tattoo that are less colorful than the rest, but it could have been pretty painful, too.

Another story is how I told my parents about the tattoo. I was unsure how they would respond, so I showed it to them while we were in the hospital and my dad was just about ready to go in for hernia surgery. I knew that if they didn't like it and weren't happy about it, that it wouldn't give them much time to be upset about it before my dad went under.

Being a pastor, my work does not call for me going shirtless a lot. Most of the time this happens at events or places where we can go swimming. Most of the time, these events are youth events. It is always funny to me to see the kids' reactions when they see that their pastor has a tattoo. Jaws drop, eyes widen, and they say, "Pastor Mark!!! YOU have a TATTOO?!?!" It never ceases to amuse me.

There's also a funny story surrounding the inception of the tattoo, and some events that happened afterward, but I think you might have to know me better to get that story.

7. How did your tattoo change your faith (and if not, why not)?

I can't say that it changed my faith, really. I don't think that, because of my tattoo, I am now bolder in my faith or that I suddenly have less doubts. I think it is just an outward manifestation of my faith, and has given me opportunities to talk about it with other people. When I'm in the pool or the hot tub, or on the beach, or some other activity where I am not wearing a shirt, my tattoo is readily visible. I've had people ask me about it, when I got it and why I got it, and it opens it up for a conversation about what the symbols mean to me.

For background on how this meme started, see Adam Copeland’s blog at http://adamjcopeland.com

Volunteering at the Youth Gathering

It's sermon writing time. Which, naturally, means I'm doing other things. What I've been doing most recently is checking out the website of the Community Life team from the ELCA Youth Gathering which was held in New Orleans in 2009. It's an every three years event, so the next Gathering is coming up in 2012 and, since the planners of the event believe that there is still a lot that needs to be done there, and a lot of good that 35,000 ELCA youth can do there, it is being held in New Orleans again.

When the 2006 Gathering, which was held in San Antonio, was gearing up I was in my senior year of seminary. I knew that there was no way I would graduate seminary, get a call in a congregation and be able to go with a church to the Gathering, but I also knew that there was no way I wanted to miss it. I knew that I HAD to be there. So I started looking for ways to be involved, and thinking back to my trip in 2000 to the Gathering in St Louis. I remembered the people who were at the hotel we stayed at, who were part of what was called the Hotel Life team. They were there as hospitality, making sure that we knew what was going on and where we were supposed to be and that there were friendly, smiling faces waiting for us at the hotel. I thought that I could definitely do that, so I applied.

Well, they were now called Community Life and their responsibilities were quite a bit larger than what I had previously thought. Not only were they friendly, smiling faces offering hospitality, but they were putting on all sorts of fun events like dances and karaoke and inflatable games and mechanical bulls, as well as concerts and worship services... All sorts of awesome stuff!

So at the Gathering in San Antonio I was part of the Community Life team. I was assigned to one of the hotels on an outlying property where you had to take a shuttle bus to get to the main convention center. I was a little disappointed at first, but those were two very fun and exciting weeks. Because we were in an outlying hotel and there were no evening activities scheduled there, our team was pretty small. The first week (in San Antonio it was still split into two weeks, this past Gathering in New Orleans they went back to one, large week) there were just two of us. Nick, my teammate, and I had a blast. We did everything together. We saw all of the church groups off in the morning as they boarded the shuttle buses, and then we'd hop on the last one and ride to the convention center. While we were there we'd walk around the Interaction Center and see all of the fun activities and booths that were set up. We'd go downstairs to the Community Life central office and joke and goof around with the people there. We'd go see the speakers and musicians that were performing. And then we'd get back on a shuttle bus and go back to our hotel to be around in the evening for any people that showed up. The second week, Nick and I both stuck around, and we added a third member to our team.

As the 2009 Gathering grew nearer, and I was now serving in a congregation, I began to wonder how I would be involved. Would I be able to volunteer for Community Life again? Or would I be expected to take a group? As I talked to my senior pastor about it, I had hoped that I could volunteer and have other adults lead the group there. But in our conversation we agreed that, since I had never been in charge of a group at a Gathering, it would be a good experience for me to go in that capacity. And it was a great experience. I had a blast with the kids and the other adult from my congregation that went. It was an amazing experience for everyone involved. But I do have to admit that there was a little twinge of regret that I was not able to be a part of the Community Life team. I had really enjoyed my time in 2006 and would have greatly loved to be a part of it again in 2009.

But now, 2012 is not that far away. There is a little less than two years to go before it gets here. I will have the experience under my belt of leading a group there. Perhaps I'll be able to volunteer again and this time be a hotel pastor, maybe even leading worship services there and presiding at communion... Who knows?!!?

For more information about the 2012 ELCA Youth Gathering in New Orleans go here and check it out!! If you are interested in volunteering, too, keep checking that site. I think applications start being accepted about a year beforehand, and there are all sorts of ways to be involved and volunteer. Who knows, maybe I'll see you there... maybe we'll even be on the same team!

facing down the monster

I have to say, you are lucky to be reading this blog post. It almost didn't get written. That's because I had a brush with death this week. Furry, winged, full of rabies death.

Let me explain.

I arrived in the office on Wednesday morning. As I walked inside I could see our secretary sitting on the edge of her seat just waiting to tell me something. When I walked in the door she said that the custodian was looking for me because she needed someone tall to help her with something. I said I was going to put my stuff back in my office and then go find her, but the secretary offered to go get her. I didn't think that made much sense, but she was out the door before I could say anything.

Well, our senior pastor heard us talking so he came out of his office. We stood in the hallway chatting when the secretary and custodian came to the office. The secretary walked in the door first and she was followed by the custodian who was carrying a smelting net (a net used for catching fish). It was a big net on a long pole. I knew IMMEDIATELY what was going on.

"No," I said. "I know what's going on and I don't like it!"

Well, it turns out I was right. There was a bat in the corner of the ceiling in the entryway of our church. Which meant that I had walked right by it when I came inside. And now they were expecting me to help them catch it.

Now, let me explain something here. I have not always had this irrational fear of bats. In fact, I have stories about times I helped catch some. I have always not liked them, but I haven't always been deathly afraid. But then there were three instances in one school year that involved a bat hitting me in the head, and two showing up in my room in one week. All of these experiences helped foster my extreme dislike of bats.

So, there I was, standing in this small breezeway, staring at this bat. Curled up in the corner it looked small and harmless. But I knew much better. Our custodian began to prop open all of the doors to make for easier bat evacuation. Then she extended the net and tried to get it into the corner to trap the bat.

The only problem was, the net was too big around and didn't fit into the corner. It didn't even come close to the bat. The custodian tried turning the net around and using the handle to poke the bat, but that just aggravated it and made it chirp.

My bright idea, then, was for me to get a broom. I would use the bristles of the broom to nudge the bat carefully off the wall and into the net, which the custodian would be holding underneath it. It seemed like a great plan.

So the custodian positioned her net underneath the bat and stood as far away as the handle would allow. I grabbed the broom and bravely walked up to face the hairy beast.

I looked up at the bat and began to move the broom closer and closer. But it was then that the chaos ensued.

The bat looked at me and then with a menacing chirp it launched itself from the wall. Directly at my face.

As the bat came hurtling at my face I did the only thing I could.

I shrieked. Like a small child.

And not only that, but I fell down. Now I'm not saying that I gently eased myself to the ground. No, I fell to the ground, throwing the broom in the air, and landed on my butt and back.

The bat flew a few circles in the entryway before shooting off through the open door.

The senior pastor, custodian and secretary stood there laughing. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation, too, as I lay there on the ground. It was a pretty comical scene.

As we talked about it later, the custodian said that I should be proud that I faced my fear and helped get the bat out of the church.

My response was that I would be more proud if the story didn't involve me screaming and falling down.

To dog or not to dog?

Last month, I was once again visited with the privilege to take my Confirmation students to camp. Now, if you know me or have read my blog for any length of time, then you probably know that I have a deep love for camp. It is where my call to ministry was first heard and fostered. It has been a place of rejuvenation and renewal for me. It is also the place where I spent four of the greatest summers of my life as a camp counselor. I have a deep love and a very high regard for camp.

So it was with much anticipation, a lot of excitement and deep gladness that I boarded the school bus along with my seventh graders. We were going to camp!!

I'd have to say that this was perhaps my most drama free week at camp as a pastor. Of course, after my first week at camp as a pastor, anything else would be a cake walk. There was a lot of unnecessary excitement that week, including three canoes full of boys from my church tipping over on purpose, and thus losing boating privileges for the rest of the week, and the fallout from that. It was an interesting week and I'm surprised that they let me bring kids the following summer.

But this week went well. My youth got along with each other famously, and made quick friends with the youth from the other churches. The counselors were great fun and did a wonderful job.

There was one thing, however, that made this week different. One of the other pastors and I went out for a walk one morning. We walked along the road for a while before it started to rain and we needed to turn back. As we were walking back, I heard someone approaching us from behind. I turned around to be greeted by a black lab jumping up to greet me. I admit I responded with a not-so-manly yelp. I was not expecting a large black dog to be launching himself at me. My pastor friend responded with a scream herself, saying that she thought she was going to get stabbed.

This dog appeared to be a stray. He was fairly skinny, covered in ticks, and my friend said he had worms (I didn't try and verify her claims). But he was friendly and really just wanted our attention. He followed us back to camp, no matter how much we tried to discourage him. I tried to chase him away, but he was persistent.

As we turned down the camp road, he ran ahead. We knew we had to inform the director that a stray dog was now loose on the property, but when we arrived we saw that one of the counselors had already intercepted the dog and was holding onto him. We apologized profusely, claiming it was our fault that the dog was there as he had followed us. The counselor explained that this wasn't the first time he had been there. Apparently he made quite a habit of coming to camp. The staff had named him Linus and they said he belonged to the house down the street but that it seemed they didn't care for him too well. When he'd show up at camp they would return him, and tie him up in the yard so he could not follow them back. But, inevitably, he'd show up again sometime.

Part of me wanted to take this dog home with me. He was friendly, and it would just take a little bit of work and he'd turn into a great pet. Several people on the staff said that if they were in different situations that they would take the dog in. That when my heartstrings began to get tugged. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could provide a good home for this nice dog.

I consulted all sorts of friends. The reactions were mixed, but most said that I should go for it. This dog needed a new home and they thought I'd be a great guy to provide that home for him. A few friends discouraged it, saying I already had two cats, and that dogs are much more high maintenance than cats. A few others reminded me of the dog I used to own (Frankie the three-legged pit bull) but ended up giving away to another home. I reminded them that Frankie was a special (high needs) case and this dog seemed much different.

So I decided that what I would do was that I would bring Linus home with me if I saw him again that week. If he came back to camp, then he would come home with me. My pastor friend and I were coming up with a plan to get him to the vet should he show up.

But by Friday morning he had not yet returned. We drove by his house a couple times and he was not there. As we ate lunch and then loaded up onto the bus, it was evident that I was going home without a dog. Linus did not make a return to camp that week.

I still think about that dog. I think he has a lot of love to give and would have done well in a house that was receptive that love and had love to return to him. The camp staff has informed me that it's not too late, I could definitely still rescue that poor dog and give him a nice, new home.

So, who knows. Maybe sometime I will plan a rescue mission and get myself a new dog...

3 busy weeks

I have not posted in quite some time. I apologize to my regular readers for my lack of productivity on this blog. But, you see, I have been busy.

On June 14th, I left with a busload of 7th graders and we headed up to camp. So, for a week, I was immersed in camp songs, campfires, outdoor games, hiking, canoeing, and even a storm that threatened to send us to the basement. Although I brought my computer along, I didn't use it much. I figured camp is a place to experience God in the outdoors, to marvel at the miracle of creation and there was plenty of it out there. I saw a lot of turtles that week and it didn't help that the internet moved about as slow as them, which made getting online frustrating. Especially when I knew I had only ten minutes to change into tennis shoes to be ready for our next activity. So my blog suffered a bit while I was there.

Then, the following week we had Vacation Bible School which was led by some of the camp counselors from the camp I had been to the previous week. Five of them came down and led a week of Vacation Bible School for us. Now, my schedule was not quite as demanding as it had been the week prior, but it was plenty busy. One evening we had a campfire and kids stayed in my yard goofing around and playing games until 10pm. Another night we had our church's annual Ice Cream Social and I happened to get roped into being in charge of making lemonade so I ended up staying much longer than I had anticipated. Another night we had a program and pot luck to celebrate a great week of VBS.

Then, with only one day between the end of VBS and the beginning of my next adventure, I headed off with 36 other people to the Yakama Reservation in Washington state for our mission trip. So we drove across Minnesota, South Dakota, Montana, Montana, Idaho and Washington to get to Toppenish, Washington where we'd be staying (I'm aware I listed Montana twice. I felt it needed to be done that way to symbolize just how freaking long that state is). While there we played with kids, we scraped and painted houses, we heard about the history of the Yakama tribe, we participated in a worship/healing circle, we toured a farm and ate fresh cucumbers, and we had a cookout in the park. Then we drove the 27 or so hours back across Washington, Idaho, Montana, Montana, Montana, South Dakota and Minnesota (Montana seemed even bigger on the way back) and arrived home sometime after 11pm on Saturday night. I had to watch some of the luggage while I waited for our rental vans to be returned, and then I ended up getting home around 12:30 only to get up at be at church the next day for church services.

Then I went to a party with some friends where I served as a jungle gym and a chair and a water gun target for a large group of kids.

That brings me to today where I have done almost nothing of consequence and it feels great. I haven't had to tell kids to stop climbing on poles, or to quit talking so as to not disrupt the other groups. I haven't had to watch a long line of kids as they crossed the street to play games. I haven't had to deal with upset adult chaperones or try to get kids to move sleeping rooms. I haven't had to sit with kids because they got in trouble or constantly remind kids to stay on task and get the job done. I haven't had to give a piggy back ride. I haven't had to tell kids to put their shoes on before they go into the gas station bathroom or to throw away their trash when they are done with it. I haven't had to make any decisions regarding buying food for 37 people and figuring out the quickest and easiest way to get them through the line and to pay for the food. I haven't had to ask girls to put on less revealing shirts or asked guys to pull up their pants to cover their underwear. I haven't had to run inside to escape three 6-9 year olds running after me with squirt guns full of water. I haven't had a large mob of children chasing me with water balloons. I haven't had a single child hang on my arm or jump on my back or grab onto my leg.

And it's been nice.

Although, now since I've finished that marathon run and finally had time to sit down and breathe, I've discovered I'm getting sick. Stellar.

But now that I have some time, perhaps I'll use some of it to sit down and write an interesting and thought provoking blog. Well... that might be pushing it a bit. But perhaps I'll use it to write something.

a few kind words

I was on facebook the other day and one of the young people from my congregation posted a status update that said that if anyone "liked" their status that they would, in turn, write something they liked about that person on their wall. So, if I were to click the "like" button on her status she would respond by sharing something she likes about me on my facebook page. I thought it sounded like a good idea so Sunday night I updated my status to say "Okay, I'm going to give this a try. 'LIKE' this status and I will post something I like about you on your wall."

Then, not thinking much about it, I logged off of facebook and went to bed. Well, the next morning when I logged back on, I already had quite a few likes. By the time all was said and done, I had 84 of my facebook friends "like" my status. And the people who liked it ran the gamut from friends I see all the time to friends I haven't seen in a long time. They were camp friends, seminary friends, college friends, high school friends, pastor friends, church friends. I definitely had my work cut out for me!

There were times it didn't seem like the list was getting any shorter. I'd write to a couple of people, and then I'd look and see that three more had liked my status in the meantime. Eventually, around 11:00 last night, I finished up my last one and completed the list (unless of course someone else likes my status, although it's far enough down on my page now that people might not see it anymore, but I don't really have any statute of limitations on when you can like my status). It was quite the undertaking. I wanted each post to be genuine and not a generic "I like that you are nice and funny," although I felt that some were close to that. Some were easier than others because some were for friends that I see all the time. Some were a little more difficult because they were people I haven't seen since high school, or that I worked with for a summer of camp and then really haven't kept in contact with other than becoming friends on facebook. So it took a lot of time, and a lot of thought, but it was totally worth it.

Taking time to think about the things that I appreciate and admire about people and being intentional about telling them was good for me. I think it's good for all of us. Several months ago, my friend Ben Larson died in the earthquake in Haiti. When we heard about his death, it seemed everyone had something kind and gracious to say about him. And all of it was true. He was, indeed, an amazing young man, filled with joy and talent and kindness and compassion and love and a passion for justice. But part of me wondered if people had taken the time to let him know that he meant that much to them when he was around to hear it. And that goes for everyone, really. When our loved ones die, we are intentional about remembering how great they were and how they touched our lives. But why should we wait until after they are gone? Why can't we let them know how much they mean to us right here and right now?

So I did that with 84 of my friends. I shared with them those qualities I admire, those things that I appreciate about them. And, as an outgrowth of that, I received quite a few kind words shared with me, as well. As I read the things that people appreciated and liked about me, I couldn't help but smile and my heart swelled. It is always nice to hear that you are appreciated and loved. And if I could make someone feel the way that I felt, just by sharing a few kind words, then it was worth all of the time and thought and effort it took to do so.