driving the mothership

Sunday morning I had the joy of driving the mothership once again. This prestigious position involves sitting at a large desk and waiting for people to see the large sign above my head that says "information". Once they see it, they come flocking with questions that I could never predict. And being tied to the desk, I become a sitting duck ready to take all they can bring. Raised in that chair, with my feet dangling above the floor, I can't go anywhere or do anything but man my post and look out at the world from the center of my church building and wait for what He will bring to me.

This past Sunday, the morning started quietly, with the usual little old men coming to get the prayer newsletter, the girl coming for her occasional kleenex, the young couple looking for the bookstore. One hour into it, I was training 3 future workers for the Information Desk, each one turning to me with little questions like "where do we put prayer requests?" "where is the missionary presentation?" ... and things seemed to all be under control. Note to self, and all future workers: when one is manning the Info Desk, one should never assume that he is sailing in safe waters as a given.

For instance.

Chaos and unprotected water was just around the corner when the power went out and the video sermon went off. The A/V techie had just turned it back on when the elevator to the balcony broke, leaving a man in a wheelchair stranded upstairs. The custodian came to me with this news and said that he needed help carrying the man and wheelchair down the stairs. I was wondering what to do, because I wanted to send my friend Jim to help him but Jim was assisting someone who'd just reported a toilet about to overflow in the men's bathroom. Jim came back and he and my friend went to carry the man downstairs. My boss came by and needed help with the exit sign that was blinking intermittently at the front of the sanctuary. Two meek missions volunteers came by and couldn't find the prayer calendars they were supposed to be handing out. A woman needed copies before her Sunday School class started.

To top it all off, enter: wild animal. There was a wild black kitten (okay, yes, it was just a kitten, but this thing was wild) outside in the cold autumn wind, and the animal shelter was apparently refusing to pick it up. One of the custodians was getting tired of seeing it sneak in the door everytime people came in, so he put the cat in a large box outside the entrance to the building. This thing could mee-ow. I don't know how it survived before it tried to come to church, but the crazy fuzz was whining and crying outside and every young lady who came into church late saw the pathetic creature and was compassionately picking it up and trying to bring it inside. A girl I discipled a few years ago carried it in to me and said, "Look! Look what I rescued from a box outside! He was cold and sad. What do I do with him?" And, looking at the little thing, and thinking of all that I had to take care of, and what trouble this little animal could cause if left inside, I had to say "Take the cat back outside" ... "We don't want him getting loose in the worship service and causing all havoc running to and fro and stirring allergy flare ups." She looked at me with disbelief but did as she was asked.

And we had a man put an 'out of order' sign on the toiley and I went up the stairs to get the boxes of missionary prayer calendars and unlock the copy room and then to go and continue to worship God by entering the sanctuary as the next volunteer took the wheel to drive the boat for a few more hours. I stood before this great and good God, this one who was powerful to uphold the universe amidst all the chaos, this God who changes me and challenges me for my own good, this God who Augustine declared is "infinitely beautiful and infinitely strong, steadfast yet elusive, unchanging Yourself though You control the change in all things" (Confessions, Book 1.4), and I sang "He Reigns".

your ministry to others is only as effective as...

I'm listening to "It's Summertime" by the Flaming Lips. It's going to snow tomorrow, so - goodbye summertime. It's been a joy. As I brace myself for winter and slow down from the fall rush, I would like to thank my friend who talked to me at work on Monday helping me remember to rest and not to max out in response to all the demands on my plate right now. It's weird how some conversations can seem like scolding and absolute freedom at the same time. Today thinking back, it is good news. Today I also talked to another friend on the phone - his band is coming to town on October 31 at the Turf Club in St Paul. It's going to rock. He said something very profound to me that he has quoted to me many times that I will share with you - "Your ministry to others is only as effective as Jesus' ministry to you." I am resting in Mark 10:45 and enjoying all that God is in Christ. Where would I be without my dear friends?

nuclear daydream

This weekend I finished watching the second season of the television show 24, most of which is about a high-speed time chase to stop nuclear catastrophe; I went to a rock concert for a man whose recent album is apparently called "Nuclear Daydream"; and I woke up this morning after having a dream that a bomb had gone off in my apartment building. My biggest concern during the dream was that all my things had been destroyed. I'm not sure if this arose before or after I learned no one had been hurt (in a dream everything always seems to happen instantaneously), but I had that sick feeling one has when waking and realizing that her subconscious really only cares about music, tv, and stuff. Yuck. Well, in response, I decided to stare at my computer screen and blog a bit.


What kinds of things does an indie rock star do on stage after he has made an album called "Nuclear Daydream"? While not a very enjoyable show, it is quite comical to reflect upon. What was the moment that made me want to run for the door? Was it the moment that the lead singer brought out a piece of pvc pipe, on which he had speared several rolls of toilet paper? He began blowing TP everywhere with a hairdryer under the rolls, who unraveled to the glee of many drunken concert goers below. He could balance after climbing up a drum set, so I have to hand that to him. Even if his lime green pants looked like they were about to fall off in the process. Mid-show he brought out the manekin head a top a broom, singing to it before mounting on the mic stand and reaching down for the manekin's leg, which he displayed upside down on an instrument on the other side of the stage. The manekin leg, some strange resemblance of the lamp in "A Christmas Story", made a nice place to wrap his mic cord later in the show, by which he lifted the leg and flung it around for a while.


This artist also managed to lead the drunk crowd in a sing-along chorus to a song about Jesus... stating that everyone, no matter what faith, could sing to Jesus, because he was a great prophet. What shall we make of this? Is it a perfect opportunity for post-concert spiritual and evangelistic conversations, is it a mockery, or was I just a party-pooper sitting there on my bar stool, not drinking, and trying to stay awake for the encore - when he and his band returned all in white and angel outfits with blue wigs to sing songs that seemed like they were written and sung by another person. You may be thinking that perhaps I should have had a drink.


If you are still reading, I must say that the nearby couple's public display of affection, the slurred comments of drunk people all around me, and the sporadic shouts for song requests were not my favorite part of the show either. (They're not gong to play your favorite song just becase you shout it twenty times, they already made their set list - chill people - get a grip). My favorite part of the evening was laughing in the middle of the street with my three friends at 2:30 in the morning, after we made it safely back to our neighborhood, by God's good grace. "You thought his pants were too low too?" "Why did he wrap his cord around the manekin leg like that?" "What did you say? I can't hear you - my ears are still ringing." It was, I must say, an adventure in the heart of this crazy city we live in, one I think was good for me.


By the way, is anyone else bothered by the fact that in the last 5 minutes every episode of 24, there is a hook of suspense so that you cannot rest satisfied until the next episode? It all but forces you to go out and rent the next disc. This is a terrible thing.


I depart with post-nuclear, pseudo-alternative, folk-tinged art pop lyrical genius from Over the Rhine, "If Nothing Else":

"for the night sky is an ocean
black distant sea
washing up to my window
all the stray dog night owl junkies
orphans vagabonds
angels who lost their halos

if nothing else i can dream
i can dream
i'll never tell never tell
all i've seen
right in front of me,
like the ghost of every thing that i could be
in the cool and callous grip of reality

words in my head
like misfits after midnight
begging for a light
words left unsaid
they may never see the light of day
and that may be okay
if nothing else i can dream"