Joy and Pain

So, Friday night was a night Jesus was very happy about.

First, I married Robert Isaacs and Tina Wilson. They have been coming on Monday night, and have decided to commit their lives to Jesus. It was a small wedding in the chapel. I keep finding out that the folks from the neighborhood don’t have big weddings. They don’t have the big web of relationships that so many of us have. They don’t send out wedding invitations—it’s word of mouth and sometimes if the person you ask to ask so-and-so is feuding with so-and-so, there won’t be no invite!

A couple from the church who could not come sent some beautiful flowers.

Jessie and I had a good time meeting the families and eating cake. As everyone filed out after the reception, I was greeted with a handshake and a sly smile and the cryptic, “M.O.G.” I asked Michael Keaton what that was and he said that as they were talking, they decided to call me the “Man of God,” or “M.O.G.” I pray to live up to that.

Then the youth had a surprise party for Michael Mazariegos. The place was packed. Video games, Twister, general merriment. What a youth group: black, white, African, Hispanic. How is any of this happening? We don’t have any money. There’s nothing remarkable about us. We have nothing to offer in the way of the world. We just love Jesus. We want to know Him well and make Him well-known, as Becky Pippert says. It happens up and down the line. You really should come to our children’s ministry on Wednesday night. And the next Wednesday, hang with the youth. And the Wednesday after that, come to prayer meeting, in English, Spanish, Lingala, and French. And come on any Monday evening and see 100 people, brand new to the church.

This summer was hard. We had to root out some junk in the church. When we did, I kind of thought, “ok, we passed through that. Let’s move on.” I am ashamed to say that it took me awhile to realize that when you clear the paths, blessing comes.

But it’s not all joy today.

One boy, a boy on my heart, just lost it over nothing late last night. Freaked completely, and did his best to tear down everything good in his life.

And another girl, with a lot on her plate—her dad is in jail on her birthday.

It would be a lot easier to not care. To do something else. Being a pastor sucks. You’re in a fish bowl. There’s people in your own congregation who would love nothing more than to tear you down. They’ll go after your wife. And if they did not know that you would tear their lungs out, they’d hit your kids, too. And then, the devil is busy kicking all your little flock’s asses. So, sure, some days you think, “I’ll get a regular job. Home in the evening, on weekends. Come home, watch tv, hide out and don’t give a rip about what’s going on.” That’s the American Dream anyway. But you know why I can’t do that. There’s weddings and birthday parties!

If I can paraphrase Patton. I don’t want to change the world. It’s the devil who changed it. I just want to go back to when it was a cool garden and at the end of the day you waited to hear God’s footsteps, knowing He was coming for supper.