Coincidence? I think not!

Admittedly, after observing the number of comments that my better half (Grits) has racked up after writing her first post, I (Wits) have been a little apprehensive about writing something new.  I’ve discovered that having to nurse one’s pride can lead to paralyzing writer’s block.  However, always being down but never out, I’ve decided to act upon some recent inspiration.

Last weekend I had four dear friends from my college days visit me here in Saint Louie.  One of them won’t be able to come to the wedding, so they all decided to all come and experience a little Demon Deacon reunion a few weeks early.  It was so great to hang with them.  Not only did they treat me and Grits like royalty, but my side still hurts from laughing.  It was a very special weekend.

As part of that time, I had to suck it up and join my four friends for a trip to the Saint Louis Arch.  Visiting the Arch is something that every tourist (understandably) wants to do and every local (who is entertaining them) dreads doing.  It was out of pure brotherly love that I decided to accompany them.

Part of the dread arises from having to go to the top of the Arch in these cramped pods, which on a cool day and the right kind of breeze, might be as big as five large industrial sized washing machines.  With little light, no air circulation, and five guys in the pod, a four minute trip seemed like half an hour.

Now I’m a little strange.  I recognize that.  I’m the kind of guy that when driving over a bridge, wonders what it would be like if it collapsed and we all fell into the water.  Would I scream?  What would be the best way to get out of the car?  Would my power locks work?

So naturally, as we were ascending up to partake of the glory of Saint Louis, I shared some thoughts with the fellas.  “Can you imagine what it would be like if the power went out and we got stuck up here?  It would be pitch black and no air.  I wonder if we could pry the doors open?  What if I had to go to the bathroom?”  You can imagine the banter that followed that last question.

What’s strange is that five hours later, people riding to the top of the Arch didn’t have to imagine any of these things happening to them because the power went out and they all got stuck up there!  Was this just a coincidence?

Sure, when riding in such a cramped space, thoughts like mine are not that unique.  But on the same day and on the same northern tram?  Isn’t that a little odd?  Isn’t it strange that just one side of the Arch lost power?  I can’t remember that ever happening before. 

If you find yourself doubting, consider a few excerpts from my history:

-One time while playing poker with high school buddies, I exclaimed (while my friend was dealing seven card stud): “This is the kind of night I could get dealt four aces and still lose!”  Although there were five or six of us playing, I was dealt all four aces!  No, I didn’t lose, but do you realize the odds of that?

-I have an uncanny knack for predicting home runs while watching baseball games on TV.

-Many times, I’ll be singing a song as I get in my car and that song will be played on the radio a very short time later.

-I predicted that my friend would go to a certain school to get his doctorate before he had even decided to get his doctorate.

Now these are a little more creepy…

-I was having a conversation with a friend about politics and out of the blue I asked him: “You know, whatever happened to that guy in Uganda… Idi Amin?  Is he still alive?”  He died the next day.

-One summer, I was working at the lab where my mom is employed.  While in her office I mentioned that I hadn’t seen a particular scientist in a long time and wondered how she was doing.  That afternoon, while running an errand for my boss, I ran into that same scientist and had a wonderful conversation with her.  A day or two later, she passed away.

-More recently, I was at work and thought to myself: “I wonder how many First Ladies are still alive?  Which one is the oldest?  I bet it’s Lady Bird Johnson.”  I went on the web to confirm my hunch and thought nothing of it.  A day or two later, Lady Bird was no longer with us.

Consider some family examples,

-My father claimed that there were many times when he dreamt something and it came to pass.  As a kid, he dreamt about an advertisement (with a photo of an Indian) that would appear in the local newspaper on a certain day and on a certain page.  He told his parents about the dream and sure enough, when that day arrived and they bought the paper, there was the ad… on the exact page and just as he had described it!

-Another time, my father was sitting in the den and had this “vision” of me falling down the stairs.  He jumped up and ran to the stairs, just in time to slip his hand under my three year old head and keep it from hitting the bottom stair.  I was shaken up a bit from the fall, but okay.

-Because of experiences like this, my father never flew on an airplane… he had dreamt that he had flown on a plane and it had crashed.

-My brother will sometimes dream about having conversations with people that lead to major arguments.  When the same conversation takes place in real life, he is sure to not say what he said in the dream to cause the argument… thus avoiding the conflict.

The list goes on and on…

How do we explain things like this?  Are they just coincidences?  Are they brief brushes with the spiritual realm?  Are they just glitches in the matrix?

What do you think?  Have you had any experiences like this?

 

The Waiting

I am really struggling with this waiting period between the here and the “what’s yet to come”.  To put it bluntly, Mama’s just having a hard time waitin’.  I’m not sure if it’s because of the fantastic counseling we’ve gotten that has allowed our hearts to know Jesus more in the midst of our struggle, which in turn, allows us to know and love each other more or if it’s just the tension of time that I’m feeling of wanting to be married to my best friend.  And that’s what he is.  It’s a wonder to be married to your best friend, and for some reason, the Lord saw fit that it could happen to us. 

Perhaps another reason why Mama don’t want to wait no more is because I picked up our wedding bands yesterday and let’s just say we look hot in them.  I’m so thankful for the day that is approaching where we will get to be called “each other’s”.  Thank God for marriage, and thank the Lord for His mercy for this time of waiting.

Some Friends Are Just “Da Bomb”

I (Wits) recently had dinner with a friend of mine who serves as a pastor at one of the churches here in Saint Louis. 

One of the reasons I love Pastor G. (name shortened to protect the slightly innocent) is because he’s one of those rare people who’s really smart and knows his theology, but also loves people and shepherds them.  Being especially drawn to those that the traditional church has avoided or even neglected, Pastor G. believes the Gospel (the message of Jesus) and acts from the conviction that it’s truly meant to be good news for every person, not just the ones that we feel comfortable around.  I’d like to be more like that.

I also like G. because he doesn’t fit the mold when it comes to being a pastor.  He drives a “mellow yellow” Mini Cooper, has a few tattoos and a couple of piercings, will meet you for a drink at the local pub, and has never been seen wearing a pair of khakis.  All of these things could be considered “unpardonable sins” by some folks in our denomination…especially the absence of khakis.

Another great thing about G. is that he’s a straight talker.  He doesn’t dance around issues or try to dodge answering those really tough theological questions.  When talking to some pastors, I’ve found myself struggling not to think that they might have had a promising career in politics.  Not Pastor G.  I really respect that.  After all, helping people with their spiritual struggles (and the possible eternal consequences) is no time to rely on a list of talking points. 

Anyway…

So there we were, driving back to the church after eating a delicious burger at a local pub, when we came to a well known traffic circle by Forest Park.  As we approached, all I could see was dirt, yellow police tape, and the type of heavy machinery you shouldn’t be operating when taking certain medications. 

“What’s going here?”  I asked with a puzzled look on my face.  G. responded by saying something about a landscaping project.

As he spoke, I felt a (self-proclaimed) righteous anger welling inside of me.  You see, that past Sunday, I had been at the Mc G.’s (name shortened to protect the slightly more innocent) and they had told me about the cement flower boxes which served as the median for the long stretch of main road by their house.   Long story short… the original ones had been removed by the city… several residents had gotten in an uproar about it… the city had put them back in… tax payers were out millions of dollars.  “What was that about not having enough money for our schools?” I had pontificated that evening.

Sensing another opportunity to get on my soapbox and “wax an elephant,” I turned to G. and said something like: “Gee, after spending money on things like this (Implied: the beautification of the traffic circle), I can’t imagine why the state has to take over running one of our school systems.”

Without missing a beat, Pastor G. quipped: “Yeah, well they were going to put a big bomb in the middle of the circle (Implied: instead of the flowers, etc.), but they decided to drop it on Iraq instead.”

Do you see why I love this guy?

“You’re such a wise acre (word changed to protect the very guilty), you know that?” I said laughing. “Point taken, point well taken.”

We all need people in our lives that are not afraid to put us in our place and help us get a little perspective.  Friends like that are good for the soul… and for curtailing unbridled self-righteousness.

 

Blast From the Past

Last week, I was at our seminary’s picnic when someone put their hand on my shoulder and said: “Tom Rubino, do you remember me?”  As I turned around, I struggled to indentify who this person was.  I recognized that this was someone I knew, but couldn’t place the context in which I had known him.  Perhaps sensing my struggle he said: “You don’t remember who I am, do you, Tom Rubino.”

By that time, a name had come into my mind, but I just couldn’t believe that it was the person I was thinking of.  Doubting myself, I uncomfortably pleaded: “Give me a little help, man.”  “It’s okay.” He comforted. “It’s been a long time and I had a lot more hair the last time you saw me.”  The more he spoke, the more I searched my past.  And the more I observed his mannerisms, the more confident I became that I did know who he was.

I don’t remember the exact hint he started to give me, but it was enough to give me the confidence to blurt out: “Mr. R.!  What are you doing here??”  That’s why I had struggled so much with his name.  I mean, of all people, M.R. was one of the last people I would have ever expected to come to seminary.  Of course, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he was probably thinking the same thing about me!

It had been fifteen years since I had seen M. and his wife, V.  As we spent time catching up, all these memories started flooding my mind.  You see, M. had been one of my first small group leaders at Wake Forest. 

A small group is a bunch of Christian folks that meet together to study the Bible, support one another in life, and pray together.  I was in his group, even though I wasn’t even a Christian at the time.

He had put up with me asking a lot of questions about Jesus and Christianity.  He was one of the first people that told me about having a “personal” relationship with Jesus Christ.  “What does he mean by ‘personal’ relationship?” I remember thinking to myself.  “How can you do that with a guy that died 2000 years ago?”  I was quite intrigued. 

So intrigued, in fact, that his words had motivated me to make a decision.  “I’m tired of all these other people telling me about this Jesus.” I arrogantly proclaimed to myself.  “I’m going to read this Bible on my own and make my own decision!”

And that I had done.  And now (fifteen years later) there we were, standing on the patio behind Edwards Hall, catching up on our stories, and sharing our dreams of how we wanted to be used to tell others about a personal relationship with this very same Jesus. 

One thing I love about pomos (postmoderns) is their emphasis upon stories.  It’s not uncommon for one of them (when they first meet you) to ask: “So… what’s your story.”

M. and I had been living our stories for fifteen years and amazingly, our storylines had crossed again.  What would each of us contribute to one another’s story?  How would we influence the way in which we lived our stories in the future?

My reunion with M. reminded me of the gloriousness of our story-writing God.  That’s really what Christianity is all about… playing our part in the amazing divine story that was written before time began and is being woven into the tapestry of the here and now.   

It’s a story of creation and fall… despair being overcome by hope… rebellion being conquered by love.  It’s a story about struggling with the way things are, the ache of recognizing that they’re not the way their supposed to be, and the joy of knowing that some day, all things will be made right.

Our stories matter.  They all have unimaginable significance.  They all work together in the unfolding of this divine drama.  They all impact others, whether positively or negatively.  What story are you leaving for those that come after you to tell?

Welcome!

Considering Tom still doesn’t have a cell phone (at least until Christine isn’t too busy to buy him one), some of you might be thinking that he was catapulted into the 21st century world of blogging against his will. Au contraire!

Believe it or not, he embraced the idea whole-heartedly. I mean, who do think is writing this post right now? Long story short, we’re glad you’re here. Who knows, maybe this blog will help all of Tom’s friends to not let him fall of the face off the earth for years at a time (a weakness he is very aware of and hates about himself)

At the very least, it will enable all of Christine’s twenty-million-thousand-billion friends to keep up with her. Not that Tom’s jealous or anything. Okay, maybe he is…but just a little. Of course, for the next three months, this will also be the headquarters for the Rubino-Dow Wedding Extravaganza.

In light of us being blogging “newbies”, be sure to come visit often to see all the new things we’ve added!