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.
Tom,
Really love the blog. I see your natural wit coming through in your writing style. I watched the video of your commercial and almost split my sides laughing…what a hoot. When did it air and what agency did you use to get the gig?
Steve