He’s Going to Drown Grandma!

Posted on June 10, 2013 by enthusiasmiscontagious

In the book, “Even Angels Must Laugh” it speaks of some of the funniest real life experiences that have occurred in church. One day I hope my experience will be an addendum in that book.

It was my last weekend as pastor of my small Appalachian Church. It was only fitting that on this day I would culminate my time there by having a baptism. The candidate was a lovely older woman who had been relegated to a wheel chair due to declining health. It was her desire to take the plunge for God. An appropriate choice on such a sweltering July day.

It would have been impossible for her to be baptized in our church for obvious logistical reasons; the church’s baptismal tank was not handicap accessible and she was pleasantly “healthy”. The soon-to-be interim pastor accompanied me as we set out the day before the event to scout out the lake. We needed the best boat ramp and access point with the least grade to hold the special gathering.

We found it, and as if sent from God, a fisherman in a small boat was sitting twenty-five yards from the ramp where we stood. Shouting out to him, we asked him if he had a depth finder. He replied that he did. When asked how deep the water was, he said at the base of the ramp it was eight feet. But go beyond that he said, and it took a deep turn downward to twenty feet or more.

Satisfied we had found our spot, we reported back to the church family that we were good to go the following day. This event was soon to be a life lesson on, planning for most everything but NOT possibly everything.

The day was hot and cloudy as the church gathered around the boat ramp. The guest evangelist and church elder patiently waited in the water at the side of the ramp waiting for the baptismal candidate to be wheeled into the water. Concerned she could fall out of the wheelchair if rolled forward, I proceeded to turn her around, and in bare feet, made my way down the ramp backwards.

I distinctly remember on my checklist the items from yesterday. Slope……check, access……check. But a boat ramp with algae slick as a greased pig? That was not on my list. Like a torpedo from a submarine, the moment my feet touched the concrete ramp, the woman and I were jettisoned into the water for an unknown target. As she flailed and my eyes got as big as saucers, the crowd along the shore wondered why I was running backwards so fast. The evangelist and church elder could only helplessly watch in shock as we whizzed by them in the opposite direction at 90 miles-per-hour.

It was the woman’s young grandson who sized up the true nature of our circumstances when he waved his bottle of Mountain Dew and screamed at the top of his lungs, “He’s going to drown Grandma!”

I concurred with his assessment. Yet, almost as if on cue and what can only be described as a miracle, the runaway wheelchair stopped dead on the ramp in a millisecond. The water was now lapping at the chin of this grateful and relieved woman. The event though beautiful was a tad bit anticlimactic from this point on. I almost had presided at the first ever drive-in baptism. Baptizing was the easy part, getting her out, became the tricky part.

Gripping the rumble strips on the ramp with my toes it took three plus another volunteer to push her back up and out of the water. As the church family sang the words to, “Shall We Gather at the River”, I whispered to the choir director that they had been singing the wrong song. I told her the proper song should have been, “We have an Anchor.”

While I am most grateful that I could be a part of this friend’s important event, it also gave me pause for reflection and thanksgiving. This baptism didn’t land on YouTube and God saved me from drowning a sweet grandma.

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Help, It’s That Time of Year

Posted on June 7, 2013 by enthusiasmiscontagious

You may think you understand the definition of strength but I’m not betting on it. When you envision something that is powerful I bet you never thought of this item. Fear, power, and helplessness is wrapped up in this tiny piece of fabric and it’s not Kevlar the bullet proof vest, it’s the bathing suit.

This is the time of year that fear grips me. It’s the kind of adrenalin that is equivalent to getting a bounced check, a flat tire and a near miss car accident rolled up into one. My swimsuit from last year has bitten the proverbial dust and I must choose another.

I am grateful I am not a woman. I’ve seen the kind of angst choosing a bathing suit causes. How can such a small amount of pastel cloth bring the toughest woman to her knees in tears? Could it be that it’s like a passed failed relationship, it’s unforgiving?

In a bathing suit I am a pirate’s dream, I have a sunken chest. There is not a bathing suit that can make me look good unless I can don a burka. I have entered that stage in my life where if I wore a bathing suit high enough to cover my flaws, I’d have to have a fly so I could unzip it when I needed to blow my nose.

If you can imagine the Kool-Aid man in a Speedo, that would be me. On second thought, scratch that image less you burn your corneas thinking about it. So I enter the store and say to the salesman, I want something that will flatter my body type and make me look thinner.” He gave me a business card for a hypnotist.

I think looking for a bathing suit is like a clandestine secret mission. You’re going it alone and if you’re caught, everyone will disavow knowing you. After my arduous journey in finding the perfect bathing suit, I think I finally found something. When I asked the final salesman what I could purchase that would offer me full coverage, he sent me to the sporting goods section.

When you see me at the beach this summer, just rap on my tent flap. I’ll be inside sipping lemonade.

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Comparisons with a Donkey

Posted on June 4, 2013 by enthusiasmiscontagious

For the past two weeks I have been surrounded by men and women who get paid to talk. No I’m not talking about broadcasters or therapists, I’m talking about ministers. I don’t know if you’ve ever spent a solid week let alone two weeks with a group of individuals where none of them know the word shy? It’s like camping with a hundred Billy Grahams without the offering plate being passed around.

No matter the subject, no matter the content, each person has an illustration that corresponds with the subject at hand? Open up and say something like you wonder whether you’ve chosen the right vocation, and someone will invariably mention the biblical character Baalam. It was he (Baalam) who had a donkey that actually talked back to him when it wouldn’t do what its’ master asked. My friend would preface his remarks by saying, “If God can use a donkey to talk, He can use you.” This statement has all the charm of complimenting your prom date with the words, “You don’t sweat much for a chubby girl.”

Bring up the subject of a few religious renegades of the flock, and you’ll hear a litany of real life stories a reality show would drool over. One Church Shepherd gave his most intuitive appraisal of the flock by saying, “Do you know sheep bite?”

Throughout my two week assignment I saw hundreds of people and probably served hundreds more. I set up stages, tents, RV sites, and decorations. I never ate a single meal with less than a table full of people and I was never alone until my head hit the pillow at night. I had a slight epiphany what a mother of a two year old experiences on a daily basis, you’re never alone and it’s never quiet.

With mixed emotions I can tell you the convention is now over. I seek solitude. I am safely back home in my own fold. I’ve not listened to the radio once nor turned on the television since I arrived back. Every time my wife starts to touch a sound button I groan my disapproval. I’ve begun to stuff my ear canals with the kind of ear plugs airport baggage handlers use while out on the tarmac. At this very moment I’m grinning ear to ear because I can’t hear a thing. I have peace.

“Wait a minute, my wife is mouthing something to me. What’s that Honey? Vacation Bible School starts tonight, it will last all week, and we’re expecting 50 kids?

Can Baalam’s donkey wear earplugs and an Advil patch tonight?

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Lessons of Ingratitude

Posted on May 30, 2013 by enthusiasmiscontagious

I have learned an important lesson in life. If you walk into any store with a tie on, odds are you’re going to be hit up by a pan handler in the parking lot. You know the kind of person I’m talking about? The shuffling person approaches you and within minutes you hear a story of woe and pestilence that only the Biblical character Job could top.

Out of nowhere you get sandbagged by an individual who tells you they have been afflicted with everything from sand fleas to cancer, their family members have died and their pick up truck needs an alternator. All this while telling you they’re on their way east while really heading south.

In one such encounter, I whipped out my cell phone when the individual told me he had no money to get home following his grandmother’s funeral. I asked him to give me the name and phone number of a family member who could verify his story. He tried to look convincing when he told me none of his family members had phones. I looked him straight in the eye and said, “You want me to believe that not one member of your family has a phone?” I’m glad he didn’t dig his hole deeper by telling me his family name was Yoder and they were all Amish. Too late anyway, I saw his camouflage car.

I brushed by him, told the manager in the grocery store that a scammer was outside and as quick as you can say fundraiser to a politician, he was gone in a flash.

Following umpteen requests for assistance by a perennial family in my community, one day I asked them, “You frequently make benevolence requests from churches, have you found one to attend?” They answered no. To which I replied, “Help me understand this, why is our church money good enough but our friendship is not?” They couldn’t answer that question.

While sitting in a community outreach meeting which included multiple faith organizations, the common refrain among us was, “Are we getting hard-hearted or jaded to the plight of poor people?”

I can only answer this question with a story that mirrors today’s culture. A mother was enjoying a walk in the neighborhood with her five-year old child. The little boy had made the comment that he was hungry. Overhearing the conversation, a kindly looking older gentlemen was returning from the grocery store with a fresh bag of oranges. Reaching into his sack, he leaned down, patted the boy on the head and handed him a juicy orange. Upon seeing his kind gesture the mother said to her son, “What do you say?” Thinking for a moment, he thrust his hand with the fruit in it back at the man and said, “Peel it!”

Herein lies my plight in helping people. I don’t mind helping anyone, but when my kindness and benevolence is taken for granted, the story may end the way the little boy’s did, fruitless.

For those that might find my assessment harsh, consider the parable of the Good Samaritan. While the kind stranger took care of the man and his needs, he didn’t leave him his credit card.

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