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.

Things I took for granted

I was thinking today of things that I took for granted before I became a pastor. You know, those things that just seemed normal, until I became ordained, that now seem kind of special.

Here's what I've come up with so far:

Anonymity. Being a pastor in a small town, it seems like lots of people know who I am, and not just people from my church. I will go some place and be greeted by someone with, "Hi Pastor Mark!" and I will look and them and be pretty sure that I have never met them before in my life. Or I'll go somewhere, and not recognize anybody, but then later when I do see people I know they'll say, "Hey Pastor Mark I heard you were ________ [fill in the blank]!"

Bars. Sometimes it's fun to go have a drink and a good time and maybe sing some karaoke. But let me refer you to the previous entry.

Clothing. Ok, get your mind out of the gutter! Allow me to explain. Since becoming a pastor I have seen a lot of clothing, particularly t-shirts, and I'll look at them and read the funny little saying or look at the witty picture and think, "That shirt is hilariously irreverent!" and then I'll think, "When could I actually wear it?" and then I'll go look at the polo shirts, instead.

Daylight Saving Time. Specifically when it begins and we have to spring forward. On a Saturday night. When I already have to get up at an ungodly hour the next morning (see also, Weekends).

Evenings. In college and seminary, if I didn't have an evening class, most of the time my evenings were free to do with what I chose. A lot of the time that should have been studying, but it was my choice. If I wanted to go out to a movie with friends, or sit around and watch television, or play video games, or go somewhere else fun, I could. Because my evening was free to do with as I chose. In my current reality, that is not always the case. What's that, you want to get together on Wednesday evening? I'm sorry, I have Confirmation and choir rehearsal. Thursday? Well, shoot. That's committee and council meeting night. Monday night? We have a mission trip meeting that night. Sunday night? Sorry, we have a worship service then. Friday? Well, it's my day off, but I have a wedding rehearsal...

Friends. I have never really been at a shortage of friends. I've always had people nearby who I could hang out with and visit, who would ask me to go places or do something with them. Especially in seminary, when all I needed to do was open my door and step out into the hallway and chances were good I'd see or run into someone who I considered a friend. But now, since I've moved to a far away state to be a pastor in a small town, I've come to see how lucky I was to have so many friends so close by.

Greetings. One morning I walked into the office at church, in my own little world, thinking about what I needed to do when I got back to my office. Obliviously, I walked right by the room where some of the ladies were volunteering to fold the newsletter, and I didn't say hello. Well, I hadn't gone too far when I heard one of them say my name with a hint of disgust. Then a few others chimed in about how I had walked right by without saying hello! So, I quickly ran back, poked my head in and said hello. Greeting people is important. Especially the church ladies.

Holidays. In high school and college and seminary, holidays were times when school was on break and I was able to go and visit family and relax for a few days. Now, it's kind of the opposite. Christmas dinner? Sure, as soon as I'm done with the four extra church services...

Lunch. While health professionals might argue that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I would contest that it's lunch with the quilters/church ladies. One day, after they had finished quilting for the morning, they called down to the office to let us know that they were having their lunch and we were invited to come up. Well, I was in the middle of doing something and didn't want to stop, so I kept going. A little later on that day, I was running over to my house for some reason when one of the ladies was getting into her car. "You didn't come up and join us!" she said. "Yeah," I said. "I was in the middle of something and didn't want to stop." I then received a very stern glare punctuated by a "Hmmph!" That was it. But now I drop everything when it's time to eat lunch with the ladies.

Money. Or talking about it, really. Talking about money (specifically the giving of this money) is a touchy subject in church and I do NOT take for granted that my senior pastor deals with this more than I do.

Volunteers. In college and seminary, since I didn't have a youth group of my own, I would volunteer at other churches to help with their youth program. It was easy to assume that there were people like me who would step forward and express interest in being involved in various areas. Now, that way of thinking makes me chuckle. Sure, there might be a few volunteers like that, but the vast majority of volunteers I get are a result of me asking and calling and e-mailing and begging and bribing. I have also learned how important volunteers are, which is why I've learned I need to do a lot of those things previously listed.

Weekends. Yeah, I know, I know. When you take a job where the Big Day is Sunday morning, it kind of goes without saying that you will not have a "regular" weekend. But I didn't realize, back when I could, how much I enjoyed going places for the weekend. Or, on Sunday mornings, laying in bed and thinking, "I don't feel like going to church today." I can't really do that now. If I try, they show up at my door.

So this is just a short list of things I've come to view much differently, or appreciate much more, since I've become a pastor. Please know that there is much humor included and intended in these words. But there is also some truth, too. Sometimes all at the same time.

What about you? What are some of the things that you'd include on your list?

operation: faster pastor

So, most of the year I am able to get around and I think that I am in fairly good shape. I walk most everywhere in town, I can go upstairs without getting winded, I'm pretty active and play lots of games with the kids at church. But there is one week out of the year that shows me how far I am from the kind of shape I'd really like to be in. That is Confirmation Camp.

They play this game every summer, one of my absolute favorites, that involves a lot of running. Well, most of their games involve running, but this one is almost constant running. It goes by many names. When I was a counselor at camp we called it "Biffer and Medic." But I've heard it called "Bonkers" and "Boof" and a few other things. The gist of the game is this: Campers are trying to be the first camper to visit various stations throughout the camp. At these stations they have to do certain tasks and then they receive a mark for having done them. Now, while they are trying to find these stations and do these tasks, there are people called Biffers. These people are running around with socks filled with flour and they are trying to "biff" the kids. If a camper gets biffed, they must stop in that location and call for help. The only person that can help them is called a Medic. A medic will follow the calls for help and then they let the person resume the game.

Two summers ago I ended up filling in part way through the game for a Biffer who was needed elsewhere. I ran all over the place, chasing the kids, having a great time. Until I thought I might die. Like my heart might beat out of my chest or my lungs might force their way up through my nose. At that point, I was a pretty worthless biffer and I mainly laid around and moaned and foamed a bit at the mouth. Ok, so it wasn't that bad. But it definitely showed me how out of shape I was.

Last year, I managed to play an entire game as a biffer. By the end I wasn't the fastest biffer, and I had to stop for short rests, but I played the entire game. I was proud. Of course, many of these junior high campers were in far better shape and they had no trouble eluding me. Toward the end of the game, a group of three or four junior high boys saw me and a couple started to run away, but one of them said, "Oh, he's not a big deal. We can outrun him."

Ouch. True, but ouch.

So I kind of had this idea that I would get in shape for next summer. I thought I'd come back to camp and maybe not be a huge threat to the kids, but I'd be a bigger one than I have been.

I'm sad to say it, but camp is about 4 weeks away and I have just started trying to do something about this. I'm not sure that in 4 weeks I will be able to get into the kind of shape I'd like to be in. Especially after months of sedentary living and greasy food eating. But I figure every little bit helps. If I stay active and do something resembling exercise every day between now and then, who knows? I might strike a little more fear into the hearts of these campers then, say, a rampaging three toed sloth.

Little things

Sometimes, I think we can let little things affect us too much. Let me give you an example from my real life.

This happened my senior year of high school. We had a foreign exchange student from the Netherlands come and live with us. He and I both used the same bathroom in our house. Alongside the mirror/medicine chest there were fluorescent lights that would come on along with the ceiling light when you turned on the light switch. But these fluorescent lights could be turned off with a separate switch on the side of the medicine chest, so that they would stay off when the ceiling light was turned on.

I preferred having these lights on. Our foreign exchange student liked them off. I would get annoyed when I would turn the light on and the fluorescent lights would not come on, as well. I expressed my dismay by putting a note on the wall by the light switch asking that the lights be left on, or at least turned back on when he was done (passive aggressive much?). That didn't work. In fact, I found the note crumpled in the trash can in the bathroom and the lights were turned off. So I resorted to my next course of action which was to put an ungodly amount of scotch tape on the switch so that it was immobilized in the "on" position. That worked nicely until the next time I came into the bathroom and the tape had been removed and thrown away, and the lights were off.

I was sure that he was doing this just to make me angry. And maybe he was. Or maybe he was sure that I was doing what I was doing just to make him angry. Either way, we both thought that the way that we wanted the lights to be was the way they should be. And neither of us was willing to budge.

When I think back to it now, I think that's extremely silly. How hard was it to turn the little knob to get the lights to be the way that I wanted them to be? So what if they were off when I came into the bathroom? It was not that much effort to turn them on. Unfortunately, because we both let this little thing mean so much to us, it only made things worse. We ended up arguing about just about everything. We were seldom in the same room of the house at the same time. I remember one afternoon my parents had had enough. They sat us both down at the dining room table and we were going to talk about what was going on and figure out how to solve it. They had good intentions, but both of us maintained that it was the other who was unwilling to make the effort. Ultimately, my parents decided that what was best for both of us was for him to go and live with the family of one of his friends from school. They didn't think it was fair for either of us to live in that situation, and so for both of our sakes he went to live elsewhere.

I have deleted and rewritten parts of this post several times. I've debated whether to post it at all. I think it portrays me in a fairly negative light, as the kind of person that I don't want people to think that I am. The me in this story seems intolerant, unforgiving, obstinate, self-centered, and fairly obnoxious. And to top it all off, this side of me was brought out by a light switch! There's a part of me that doesn't want the story portraying me in that way to be posted for anyone to read.

It's definitely not something I'm proud of, but I've decided to post it because I think it might describe more people than just me. We get so caught up in the way that we think things should be and the way that we want people to do them, that we often forget that those are people are just that - people.

I started this blog post and I was thinking about things like toothpaste and toilet seats. A friend of mine on facebook posted a status about how she was having to have the toothpaste tube conversation with her partner, meaning one of them was squeezing the tube in the middle while the other preferred it to be squeezed out from the bottom. Now, I don't believe at all that my friend was posting this as a life or death, take it or leave it situation. But it got me thinking of the people I have seen get upset about stuff like that. Or by someone leaving the toilet seat up, rather than putting it back down. Now, I might be seeing this from a different viewpoint because I am a male and, therefore, often the culprit for leaving toilet seats up. But, really, in all honesty, how hard is it to take a tube of toothpaste that has been squeezed in the middle and squeeze the toothpaste up from the bottom? Or how hard is it to look at the toilet and see the seat is up and then put it down (for either side of the issue, really). But these things get blown out of proportion and we see that our way is, obviously, the right way.

But the more I thought about it, and as I started writing this post, I began to see that this not only affects little things in our lives, but it also affects big things, too. Like who's allowed to be in our country, or who's allowed to be legally married or to be a pastor. Or who's allowed to have access to healthcare.

We get so caught up with what we want, and how we like things, and we decide that those are the right and correct ways to do them. We can begin to vilify or demonize those who do them differently. We think that because they are not like us and they don't do things the way we do them that they are evil or bad or ignorant or whatever comes next on our list of bad things. We fail to look at that person who squeezed the toothpaste from the middle of the tube and think that we really have more in common than we have differences. So what if I want the toilet seat down and they left it up. That doesn't mean that they are a bad person or that they have nothing good to offer.

I think I missed out on a great opportunity. I had a person in my house who was from another country, who spoke a different language, who had grown up with different customs and traditions, who saw things differently and heard things differently and understood things differently than I did. It was someone who I could have learned from and shared things with. He could have helped me see things from a different perspective. But because I got so caught up and angry about that stupid light switch, I stopped seeing him for who he was and what he could offer, and I only saw him for what he did that I didn't like.

And that is not what we are called to do. That is definitely not seeing Christ in our neighbor, or loving our enemy, or any of those things that Jesus said were so important.

What would I have said if it were Jesus who was turning off the lights in the bathroom? Who am I to say it wasn't?