3 Questions About Jesus: Jason Clark

This week Jason Clark responds to our 3 Questions About Jesus: Who is Jesus the Christ? What has he done? And why does it matter? (Previous installments: Jason Coker | Jesse Schroeder | Cari Jenkins)
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We all try to make sense life, what the meaning of life is, asking what is my purpose here, what is a good life, at least for myself?  And we all seem to get one shot at this life, one chance to take all that we are and invest it into our best answers to those questions.  At this time in history, and even when I was younger (I know it was some time ago), life seems about competition, survival of the fittest, and doing to others before others do it to you. Or as my gentle white haired grandma used to say, ‘take care of yourself grandson, because in this life I’ve learned no-one else will’.

It’s not that we don’t want life to be about more than this, it’s just that in our fast paced consumer world, being successful, getting ahead, looking out for yourself, is what our friends and family and so often we default to.  And even if you wanted to, you can’t jam the system, there is no way to opt out of the juggernaut for getting ahead in life. It’s the way things are, so either drop out, or get stuck in.

And the effort and investment to get ahead, is kept alive and made worth while by the prize of what we think life is about, maybe a great career, great family, holidays, living somewhere cool, and retiring early.  Where we live, what job we do and what relationships we have reveal the answers to what we really think the meaning and purpose of life is about, they are the real investments we are making, daily with all we are.  It’s our life, we are kings of our kingdom with our decision and choices, as we decide who and what we are, and what we bring into our lives, as we make a life.

Jesus was someone who understood what life was about, and decided to invest his life very differently. Instead of getting ahead, he said he had come to serve others, that his investment was into a different reality and economy, which he called ‘The Kingdom of God’. That life, this life was about investing all we have, time, energy and money, our heart, soul, body and mind in a different reality. He said that jobs, where we live and relationships are very important, we’ve got that part right, but how we invest ourselves for those aspects of life is very different.

He even told us not to worry about all these things, that the reason we worry is because we fear losing things we shouldn’t be putting our heart and soul into in the first place.  And he did more than talk about this new reality, he lived it.  Every day, every breath, every step, he invested his life in helping others see that life was about knowing God, and entering into the plans God has for us. Using our gifts, and skills, passions and interest to invest in God’s economy.  And he said that if we do that, God will give the best life we could ever have.  And he said that if we practice this life investment, our lives will continue, after death into eternity.  Jesus brought a warning too, reminding us to take care.  That where we invest our lives determines who we become now and forever, so choose wisely.

Jesus invitation seems so impossible, it was as impossible 2,000 years ago as much as it is now.  In fact people intent on investing in a way of life much like ours today, eventually put him on a cross and killed him. And as they looked at him dying with no friends, no job, no career, no success, and no status they asked him, ‘where is your God and this way of life now’?

I was 17 the first time someone explained to me who Jesu was and is, and why it mattered, and maybe if I tell you what that friend told me, it will sum up what I’m trying to say here?  My friend said that, investing my life in Jesus, taking all that I am and giving it to Him, might not make my life easier, in fact in lots of ways it would be much harder.  But he promised me that, I would have something to live for and something to die for, that there wouldn’t be a day when I wouldn’t know meaning, adventure and purpose.

I chose to make that investment, and 24 years later, I have experienced the most amazing life, with all of that and more.  The depth and richness of discovering who I am, the most amazing experience of life with others, as I daily try to invest all I have in Him, has been stunning.  I’d love to tell you more about that sometime. Choosing Jesus was the best investment I ever made with my life.  Where are you investing yours?

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Jason Clark (www.deepchurch.org.uk) is British, recently turned 40, and lives on the SW edge of London, UK. He has three teenage kids, and is celebrating 20 years of marriage to Bev later this year. He is midway through a PhD in theology at Kings College London, holds a D.Min from George Fox Seminary, and is the senior pastor of a Vineyard church that he started with his Bev 13 years ago, having been involved in Vineyard churches for 23 years in total.

Technorati Tags: 3 Questions About Jesus, Gospel, Jason Clark, Stories

Coincidence or God? Lost In-Laws

This is my last coincidence story for now. The car keys made me scratch my head and the drunk uncle incident made me wonder about God’s involvement in coincidences, but this encounter actually helped Jenell and I make a major life decision. Bear with me, this one requires a little back story.

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In December of 2007 Jenell and the kids and I had flown out from Columbus, Ohio to visit my parents in San Diego. One night they told us to go out and have fun, just the two of us, so we decided to drive up PCH and find a restaurant. We weren’t very familiar with the area, so we just headed north.

We soon found ourselves passing through Carlsbad village, a collection of beachside shops and restaurants, and Jenell said, “Oh, I think this is where my brother’s shop was!”

Over ten years before Jenell and I were living in Utah when she and her half-brother, Adrian, first made contact. They always knew of each other, but never met. Somehow Adrian’s wife tracked down Jenell and reached out, calling her one day. He was in his early twenties, newly married, and curious about the sister he’d never known. They formed a bit of a relationship over the phone and soon we were inviting them to come to Utah for a visit.

They spent a weekend with us. It was a amazing to see this person who in so many ways resembled Jenell – in appearance, mannerisms, and even sense of humor. More so for Jenell, who had been raised an only child. They connected instantly.

Adrian talked about the retail business he’d just started back in California, and we talked about our dreams for ministry. We talked about kids, about marriage, and, of course, about God. Adrian was an atheist and his wife Stephanie was dabbling in other kinds of spirituality, so they were a little unsettled to learn that we were in Christian ministry. It wasn’t long before we were chatting about religion and God, but the discussion remained friendly – even if it grew serious at times.

When the weekend ended we said our goodbyes and sent them back to California. Adrian and Jenell traded phone calls for the next year or so, but we both moved and changed numbers soon afterward and eventually lost contact. Jenell was always grateful for that visit, but sad about losing the relationship too.

All of these memories came flooding back ten years later as we drove through Carlsbad Village that night. We wondered aloud about Adrian and Stephanie: Did they still live in the area? Was Adrian’s business here? We talked about how nice it would be to reconnect.

We kept driving up PCH, looking for a decent restaurant, all the way to Camp Pendleton at the end of Oceanside. Nothing looked good, so we turned around and headed back to Carlsbad where we’d seen a Mexican food place that seemed promising. We parked, left our names at the crowded adobe-style restaurant, and were told it would be about 30 minutes.

So, we walked. And prayed.

We were in the throes of a big decision, pretty sure God was leading us to plant a church…but where? How? Our trip to San Diego was, in part, an excursion to see if God might be calling us back there. Was this the place? How would we know?

We walked around the Village, talking through it all and praying out loud, “God, show us what your will is? If this is where you want us, make it clear.” That’s when I saw it. Across the street.

A Starbucks.

“Let’s cross the street,” I said earnestly. “I think God is leading us over there.”

Jenell snickered.

As we made our way to the Starbucks we kept praying, “Show us Lord. Show us something.” We were so engrossed in our talking and praying we nearly ran into a small group of people walking the opposite direction. We managed to thread past each other without incident, until one of them turned back suddenly and said, “Jenell?”

We both turned and looked at the woman who’d called Jenell’s name. I didn’t recognize her. And I could tell by the look on Jenell’s face that she didn’t either. Slightly amused, I waited to see how she would handle it.

“Uhhh” Jenell mused, trying desperately to make the connection. Finally, she gave up, “do I know you?”

“I’m your sister-in-law!” The woman said.

Now I was confused. Sister-in-law? Was this woman crazy? My brother and his wife lived in Stockton, and she’s not…then it clicked. She did look familiar. I glanced to her left, and there, eyes wide and mouth agape, stood Jenell’s brother Adrian. They were older, but it was definitely them.

Everyone freaked a little – except the couple with Adrian and Stephanie who stood off to the side looking every bit as awkward as they felt. We invited them all to dinner with us, but the other couple had to get back home. Adrian and Stephanie joined us.

At dinner, Jenell said, “Wow, I can’t believe you guys still live in the area after all these years!”

“Oh, we don’t,” said Stephanie.

“We live about an hour away, in Temecula,” said Adrian.

“We haven’t been here for years,” added Stephanie. “We hardly get out these days with the kids. I don’t even know why we came here tonight. We never really come back this way anymore.”

“Don’t you have a business here?” Asked Jenell.

“Oh no,” laughed Adrian. “That didn’t last long.” He switched subjects quickly; something else was on his mind. “I have to tell you guys, that weekend in Utah changed our lives.”

We blinked. “What do you mean?” Jenell asked.

“Well, we became Christians because of you.”

We just stared, unbelieving.

“Oh, we’re like totally Christians” Stephanie emphasized. “Adrian even thought he wanted to be a pastor for a while.”

“It’s true” he said, chuckling a little. “I even went to bible college for a while.”

“But, you were an atheist,” I said. “How did that happen?”

“It was you guys,” he continued. “We just couldn’t get over how different you were. You didn’t judge us or pressure us, but you had this passion for God and life that we wanted for ourselves. It didn’t happen right away. We came back and time passed, but sooner or later we started looking for a church where we could find that same thing. Eventually we became Christians.”

We talked for long time, catching up on each others families – nieces and nephews that had never met, jobs and careers, causes and passions. We talked of the joys of discovering God and fellowship, and the disappointments that come along with church too.

It was a real gift to us, in more ways than one. It turns out they’re amazing people who are doing amazing things. And we get to hang out now (see the pics above from Father’s Day this year). Not only was it a gift to hear – all those years later – that we’d made some kind of difference in their lives, but we took it to be a genuine sign that God was confirming our sense of being led back to California, and while we didn’t base our decision solely on that encounter (not even close), the truth is, it was a factor.

We asked God to show us something, and He gave us something instead; more than we could ever have imagined.

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Was it God or coincidence? How can we know the difference?

Technorati Tags: Coincidence, Free Will, sovereignty, Stories

Coincidence or God? Drunk Uncle

I have two more coincidence stories to tell. Honestly, my response to the car keys incident was plain-old, head-scratching bewilderment. Nothing more.

But this next encounter made me wonder. (Yes, I’ve changed some of the names).

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One cool summer evening the phone on our bedside table rang late at night. Jenell and I both jerked straight up in bed, immediately gripped with anxiety: Was someone hurt? Had there been an accident?

I snatched the phone from its cradle, “Hello!”

“Hi, yes, uh this is Robert Smith an I need to talk to someone about my bill.”

It was man’s voice. Older. Unrecognizable to me but recognizably intoxicated. Lascivious music loitered in the background and voices crowded the middle distance.

“Excuse me?” I said, “your bill?”

He jumped on my question: “Yes! My bill. I need to talk to someone about my bill!”

“What bill?”

“What bill?” He mocked with disgust. “What do you think. My phone bill.” He lamented to someone over his shoulder, “Jesus, what the hell is wrong with this person?”

“I don’t know who you are and I have nothing to do with your phone bill.” I flirted with hanging up, but somehow I felt he needed to understand he’d called the wrong number. Mostly, I just didn’t want him to call back. “I’m afraid you’ve called the wrong -”

“I already told you, this is Robert Smith. Just look up my account. You guys fucked up my bill and I need to straighten it out. Right now!”

My wife could hear the yelling from the phone. She looked at me, questioning. I rolled my eyes helplessly and shook my head, letting her know it was nothing serious.

He was peppering his tirade with more profanity now. He was completely wasted, and emboldened by the alcohol to swing for the fences. Soon he would unleash all his phone-company-frustrations upon the uncooperative employee at the other end of the line. Me. I halfway sympathized, but also realized that it would continue to escalate. So I switched tactics.

“Alright Mr. Smith, my apologies, I’m going to take care of that bill for you.”

“It’s about fuckin’ time! Jesus…” he muttered.

“Can I have your phone number please? Starting with the area code?”

“Yeah, it’s 909-555-5151.”

909? I thought to myself. That’s from Riverside, California. What are the chances someone from my hometown would call a wrong number and get me in Utah? Weird.

“And where are you calling from?”

“Where am I calling from? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“I just need it for my records, sir.”

“Uh…okay. I’m calling from a payphone at a bar in Victorville.”

Victorville? I had lots of family in Victorville. This was getting suspicious.

“Okay,” I said, “give me a second to pull up your account on the computer.”

“Great.” He was calm now. Satisfied and vindicated. He started talking again to the man over his shoulder about a woman across the bar, and the things he’d like to do to her. They giggled wickedly. That’s when I realized he was with a friend. Maybe someone less drunk than himself?

“Okay Mr Smith, I have your account in front of me and I can definitely clear these erroneous charges, but I need one more thing from you first.

“Great, what’s that?”

“Are you there with someone?”

“Excuse me?”

“At the bar. Are you with a friend?”

“What the f-…what does that have to do with my phone bill?” He was ramping up again.”Yeah I’m here with a friend. I’m here with my buddy Terry. He just got out of jail tonight and we’re freaking celebrating! Is that alright with you? Goddamn…” he said away from the phone again, “You believe this guy?”

“Could you put him on the phone please?”

“What? Excuse me?”

“Sir, can I please talk to your friend Terry?” I was still being polite.

“I don’t know why the hell you need to talk to -”

“Mr Smith,” I became stern, “do you want me to take care of your phone bill or not?”

He demurred, “Well, yes.”

“All right then. If you let me talk to your friend Terry I can erase this bill for you. If you don’t, you’re going to be stuck with these charges.”

“All right,” he gave in, “Jeeez, fine.” Away from the phone I heard, “He wants to talk to you…” followed by muffled protests. Then, “I don’t know, he just does. I need this taken care of, I can’t afford this bill. Just talk to him!”

The phone shuffled for a second. Then another older man’s voice tentatively said, “Hello?”

I recognized this voice.

“Terry?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Terry Jones?” I pressed. I already knew the answer.

“Uhhh, yes. Who’s this?”

“Terry, this is Jason Coker. Your nephew.”

“What the…Jason? What are you doing on Robert’s phone?”

“He called me Terry.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know Terry,” I said, using his name as a punctuation mark. Do you know why your friend would call me here in Utah? From a bar in Victorville? After midnight?”

“Oh shit…” He trailed off.

Jenell was sitting up fully now, staring at me, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “Terry,” I called into the phone, trying to bring him back to the moment. “Did you give Robert my phone number?”

“No. No, no. Swear-to-God Jason, I didn’t give him your number. I don’t even have your number.” Off-phone Terry hissed at his friend, “Robert! You called my nephew. Jason. In Utah. He’s a PASTOR!” He let that last word sink in, as if he’d just unveiled the most dangerous secret in the universe.

“Then how did he get my number Terry?”

“Oh my God Jason,” he was back. “I know what this is.”

“Oh? What is it Terry?”

“This is GOD. Trying to tell me something.”

“Terry…”

“No, I’m serious Jason. Oh my God. I shouldn’t even be here Jason. I just got out of jail!”

“Terry, I don’t know if…”

“I get it Jason. Loud and clear. I get the message. I’m so sorry man, but I get the message.”

“Well, alright,” I said. “You take care of yourself.”

“I will. Seriously. I promise.”

“And tell your friend that I can’t help him with his phone bill.” With that, I hung up.

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So, God or coincidence? Is there a more likely explanation? Do you think Terry and Robert were telling the truth?

Technorati Tags: Coincidence, Free Will, sovereignty, Stories

Coincidence or God? Car Keys

I’m fascinated by stories of coincidence. Most Christians have no trouble attributing serendipitous events to the providence of God, but for me it’s just not that simple. I’m a big believer in free will, so these incidents are both an intellectual challenge and a real source of marvel for me.

I’m going to tell a few of my own stories of coincidence. Mostly just for fun, but also because I’d love to prompt some discussion about these kinds of encounters and maybe read some of your stories too.

So, here’s a small example:

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I thoroughly enjoyed living in Park City, Utah for eleven years. As a youth pastor, skiing and snowboarding with teenagers was my job (I highly recommend it).

One time I was skiing at Park City Mountain Resort with a friend. It was a huge powder day and we were having crazy fun carving big turns in the deep, fluffy snow. We came to the bottom of a run and stopped at the chair lift grinning from ear to ear, when suddenly I realized my jacket pocket – the one with my car keys in it – was wide open and hanging inside out like a gutted fish. My keys were gone – lost somewhere in the 4 feet of snow on the mountain.

Of course I had to call my wife and have her bring a spare key to my truck so I could drive it back home, but the real bummer was all the other keys I would have to have made: house keys, mailbox keys, church keys…huge bummer.

I put it off as long as I could.

One week later (to the day) my dad was visiting from California. Naturally, I took him skiing. At some point in the day we were flying down the very same run, and when we reached the bottom I stopped in the big crowd of skiiers queueing up for the lift and said to to my dad, “Man, I was skiing here last week and came down that very same run and lost my keys somewhere in the powder. I was a huge bummer.”

Just then a man came flying down the hill and skidded to a stop about twenty feet away. He stabbed his poles in the snow, pulled off his goggles, reached into his pocket, and yelled to the crowd, “Did anybody lose a set of keys?!”

There, from his outstretched fingers, dangled my keys. I couldn’t believe it.

“Those are mine!” I yelled over to him. My dad looked at me unbelieving, and said, “No way. Shut up!” He thought I’d set the whole thing up. It took me 15 minutes to persuade him that I was telling the truth and that he’d witnessed the unfolding of a bizarre coincidence.

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So, what do you think? Is that God? Why or why not?

Technorati Tags: Coincidence, Providence, sovereignty, Stories

3 Questions About Jesus: Cari Jenkins

This week we asked Cari Jenkins to respond to our 3 Questions About Jesus: Who is Jesus the Christ? What has he done? And why does it matter?
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I was in front of my home taking down twinkle lights one year just after Christmas when I saw a young girl walking down the street towards me. She was too young to be walking alone and I noticed tears streaming down her cheeks. I ask if she needed anything two times. And two times she turned me down. She paused at the end of my driveway and I asked a third time. This time she responded with a yes. She used my phone to call someone to come get her.  Over the next hour I learned that she had run away from home the night before. Then my door bell rang. A man stood desperate at my front door. He was singularly focused, “where is my daughter!” I invited him in and watched as the two were reunited. I stood in the kitchen, giving them space and trying to keep myself composed as I was invited into this very intimate event of a relationship being restored. It was beautiful and powerful.

A friend had an old piece of furniture. It was cracked, paint was peeling and it was literally falling apart at the hinges. He didn’t see the dilapidated mess which I saw, he saw what it was originally designed to be. Over the next few months he spent hours restoring this piece of furniture. He poured over it with love, sweat and patience. Then one day I got the call, he had finished. I stopped by his home and before me was a beautiful, masterpiece. The once old chest of drawers was fully restored to its original design and it was beautiful.

Both of these stories speak of Jesus. He restores broken relationships. He restores people, like my friend restored that chest of drawers, He restores us to our original design. He restores us in our misguided beliefs and He constantly is making old things new again. Jesus, He is the one who brings restoration to this planet and to all people everywhere and His restoration is perfect and we, you and I get to share in it. It is powerful and beautiful and it constantly invites others into restoration as well.

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Cari lives in downtown San Diego, Ca where she founded The 11:29 Project. An initiative that seeks to connect people to the rest and restoration found in Jesus and advocates for the marginalized. She blogs a carijenkins.wordpress.com.

Technorati Tags: 3 Questions About Jesus, Cari Jenkins, Gospel, Jesus Christ, Stories

3 Questions About Jesus: Jason Coker

Today I’m beginning a new series called “3 Questions About Jesus.” The idea is to ask different people how they would explain Jesus Christ to someone who had heard about him, but really knew nothing about Christianity. Their questions are:

• Who is Jesus the Christ?
• What has he done?
• Why does it matter?

I’m of the opinion that most presentations of the gospel tend to answer only one or two of these questions, or answer all of them in a way that reduces the scope of the gospel drastically. The challenge of this series will be to try answering these questions in a way that does justice to the depth and breadth of the gospel without trying to give people a pocket-sized systematic theology (because nobody would sit and listen to that).

Every Monday for the next few months I’ll host a different person who will attempt to answer those questions in 300 words or less. I’ve encouraged people to be as creative as they like. And, of course, we’d love your interaction and feedback.

I’ll go first with, “The Parable of the Apple Tree.”

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Jesus is like the story of an apple tree.

Once there was a farmer who gave his three sons an apple orchard, saying, “This is my gift to you. The orchard will care for you all your days if you will care for it.” But the sons despised their father’s gift and neglected it. Soon the trees died and the sons grew hungry. They called their father for help, who came and said, ”I will feed you.” Then, he knelt on the cracked earth and planted a seed.

Every day the sons begged their father for food, and every day they watched him water the seed and pull the weeds, saying, “I will feed you.”

Every day they watched him prune and tend the tender branches, and every day they begged for food. “I will feed you,” their father said.

Finally the tree grew strong and apples hung heavy from its branches. “This is my gift to you,” the father said. But the sons were bitter that they had been neglected for a tree. In a rage they cut it down and tore its limbs apart until their evil was exhausted.

As they sat ashamed at the foot of the desecrated tree their father brought apples plucked from its branches, saying, “This is my gift to you. Take and eat.”

The first son did not trust him. He refused the food and cursed his father, rejecting the gift. The second son bit into an apple but despised its flavor and cursed his father, rejecting the gift.

But the third son found the apples sweet and gratefully ate his fill. The father dug out the seeds and placed them in his son’s hands, saying, “This is my gift to you,” and beckoning toward the other sons, who were still hungry and ashamed, he added, “Now feed my sons.”

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Jason Coker is the host of Pastoralia.org. You can read more about him at the About page.

Technorati Tags: 3 Questions About Jesus, Jesus Christ, Parable of the Apple Tree, Parables, Stories, The Gospel

From L.A. To Vegas

(I’ve been slowly moving archived posts from an old blog to this one. This is a two-part story of a plane flight I took not so long ago.)

I’ve always thought those stories of pastors evangelizing people on planes were fascinating. You know how it goes: The good-natured pastor ends up seated next a divorcee, or maybe a young couple “living in sin.” The pastor introduces himself, delivers the gospel, brings them to repentance, unburdens their guilt, and cures their souls of dysfunction, all before touchdown on the destination tarmac.

Personally, I hate talking to people on the plane.

As an introvert I’d rather have my toenails scooped out with a spoon than break the ice for an hour or two with a stranger on a plane. It’s not that I dislike people. Sometimes I don’t. It’s not that I don’t care. I pretty much always do. I just don’t care about shallow things, and that’s what happens on a plane. Shallow. Tortuously long volleys of stilted banter about weather, sports, hobbies, travel and other insipid close-quarter glad-handing.

Ugh.

Sometimes when I sense an irrepressible “talker” I charge like a sanguine Rhino, all horns and happy swagger, snorting intense personal questions at breakneck velocity, pressing frighteningly toward the ecstatic landscape of life’s horrific uncertainties. Tell me everything. Generally folks don’t receive that very well. That’s the idea. Break the American social contract of aesthetic minutia and people clam right up. It’s a sacred contract. Sometimes it even works with friends and family. Trekking much further afield threatens most people’s lovingly cultivated gardens of unfettered freedom – freedom to think and believe and do whatever the hell we want. Nobody wants to lose that.

So I read.

I don’t know about you, but the way I do it reading is an altogether different sort of dialogue: It’s an orderly, controlled, intentional dialectic with someone whose ideas are intellectual, deeply meaningful, and unusually well-considered (we’re talking the ideal book). It’s like conversation…for Calvinists. Plus I can interrupt the author and scribble all over his face if I disagree. Real live people tend not to appreciate that. Michael Servitus certainly didn’t.

So recently I climb onto a plane – a short hop to from L.A. to Vegas – and immediately pry open my latest conversation partner (The Starfish and the Spider, great book btw). Soon a woman slides into the seat next to me followed by a man, both in their late twenties and apparently not together judging by the informal courtesies exchanged during individualized pre-flight rituals.

I take the opportunity to transmit psychic morse-code: don’t talk to me…deeply engrossed in book…extremely focused…barely aware of you…nothing personal…completely uninterested. They get the message. Not a word. I cease broadcasting and ease back into the cockpit.

The steward bangs the plane door shut and the woman jumps straight from her tail as though a mini-ejector in her seat is wired directly to the latch. Suddenly she’s hyper-ventilating like a scared rabbit.

“Oh my God!” she says just above a whisper.

Oh my God, I think, ignoring her.

“Are you afraid of flying?” asks the man. He seems genuinely concerned. Good. She has a comforter. Maybe they’re both single. Maybe they’re MFEO. The last thing I need is a case of derailed kismet haunting my karma. Better to keep quiet.

“Oh, no-oh-oh-oh,” she stutter-laughs, “I mean…uhhh maybe a little, but I’ll be okay.”

Just as I’m telling myself her histrionics will subside after take-off the tired old plane shudders from the belly up, lumbering down the taxi-way, and the woman somehow shoves her entire head completely between her knees. Muffled primordial spasms erupt from her throat. I am amazed. I’m still trying to figure out the maneuver when she comes up for air. Apparently God is still on her mind

“Oh-my-GOD-oh-my-GOD-oh-my-GOD…”

She’s really emphasizing that name. Suddenly I’m wondering why we refer to that sort of thing as using the Lord’s name “in vain.” It doesn’t seem useless to her. I’m fascinated. I’m thinking through a more generous theology of “spontaneous utterances” when she starts barking. Well, more like a coughing-bark, actually like she’s clearing the fear from her throat. The man on the other side of her glances at me nervously: Your turn.

Uh-uh, I flash back. Determined not to be shaken I dig a foxhole in the paragraphs of my book. I hunker under piles of shoveled prose. Weather the storm, I tell myself. It can’t get worse.

“Oh my God, I think I need a barf bag,” she chokes, rifling through the seat back as we finish taxiing toward the runway.

To be continued.

Technorati Tags: Evangelism, Plane Flights, Stories