I'm not hyper-spiritual. I'm not overly pious. And, I'm definitely not the holier-than-thou type. The truth is, I'm a normal guy. At least, according to some definitions of normal. But the point is this: I'm a mess, the chief of sinners. I'm just your typical guy with one very distinct difference: I love Jesus.
I'm a normal guy. And, I'm a pastor. I don't have a church yet, but I'm a pastor. Have you ever put your pastor on a pedestal and just brushed him aside as the "spiritual" guy? Have you ever thought that your pastor was definitely NOT normal? Well, that's not me. I sometimes wonder if I'm too goofy and quirky for a church to throw into their pulpit every Sunday. But the truth of the matter is that Christians are in the world to love the world. I'm a stranger in this world, but that can't keep me from relating to the world. Let me share a piece of my normal, down-to-earth life with you.
So I work third shift. I'm basically a glorified janitor driving around all night with a street sweeper cleaning shopping centers. On one particular December night, the weather was unseasonably warm, warm enough for me to not be alone. It had been nearly a month since we had last met, but they were back. I couldn't believe my very eyes; they had returned. It was 2 a.m. and my arch-nemeses stood, or waddled, before me. I had thought this pack of geese had moved south with the cold, but yet here they were staring me down.
The leader of the pack gave me "the look." You know exactly what look I'm talking about. He stared me straight in the eyes from across the parking lot with that come-and-try-to-get-a-piece-of-this-so-I-can-rough-up-your-feathers look. He meant business, but I was ready for him. I revved up my engine and shot off across the asphalt with one thing in mind: survival of the fittest.
I went straight into the middle of them with geese scattering everywhere in a cloud of feathers, ruffled feathers that is. That's right, they were defeated, but I had to crush their spirits. As the geese lifted off they formed a giant V, fleeing towards safety and the night stars. I slammed the breaks, jumping out of the truck with a "YEEHAW!" that would have woken the dead. You know, it didn't, of course, because the dead are already awake at 2 a.m. I mean, everybody knows that. I took off running after the V, "That's right!!! That's right!!! Fly away, fly away, and don't y'all come back ya hear!!!"
That kinda gives me away, I suppose. I am a country boy. That may disqualify me from being normal, but I will still insist that I'm just a typical guy, though a little goofy. I have a good feeling that its the same for your pastor. He's probably just a typical country bumpkin who loves Jesus. So next Sunday, when you're sitting in church, just think of geese, country boys, and big street sweepers, and for heaven's sake, listen to the sermon!
Fine print: No undead (zombies, vampires, werewolves, etc) were harmed in the making of this blog, except the one but he will remain nameless due to legalities and the impending lawsuit. Also, this blog is dolphin safe...
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