A Great Parking Spot

Before I picked up my house on wheels, I knew where I would park it. Because I’m not much of a planner, that didn’t go as planned. This left me in a slight panic. I could spend a bunch of money to rent space at an RV park, if I could find available space. Or I could pay for an electrical outlet to be installed at a willing friend’s home. Neither of these options seemed ideal. Then I had an epiphany. The church I’ve attended for many years sits on a large plot of land. I knew a guy used to live in a trailer on the property. This gave me a little hope.

I’ve known the church pastor for many years and consider him a friend. Without hesitation, he said I could park there for a while. I met him on the property a few days later, and he gave me a lay of the land. He showed me where I could plug in, showed me where I could access water, and showed me where I could dump my…stuff. He also offered to give me keys to various buildings that had bathrooms and showers. I was overwhelmed and told him that wasn’t necessary. I offered to pay, and he shrugged it off immediately.

Maybe this doesn’t register as a big deal to some. But it did to me. There are plenty of excuses he could’ve used to tell me no. But that’s just the thing. He didn’t want to tell me no. He wanted to help a friend because that’s the kind of dude he is.

I share this because there are some, if not many, in the local community of churches that consider our pastor a heretic. There was a time when I may have felt the same. That was probably because I was more interested in hearing someone say something I agreed with rather than watching how someone lived their life.

I’ve attended my church for many years not because I agree with everything that’s taught, but because it is filled with people that inspire me to be much less of an asshole. I’ve reached an age where actions speak much louder than words to me. My church serves as a hospital and not a courtroom. My church is a place where skeptical people are free to ask uncomfortable questions. The answers to such questions are often “I don’t know.”

My pastor has a doctorate in biblical studies. He has read the bible many times over in it’s original Greek and Hebrew forms. It is fine for me to disagree with him on certain nuances of faith. But for me to believe I know more than him on certain biblical matters is laughable. It’s even more laughable to question his personal faith when I have witnessed how he treats other people and has lived his life for the past decade. He walks what many others simply talk.

Off and on, I’ve attended a weekly men’s group that meets on Thursday mornings. If you stumbled in, you might think you walked into some crotchety old men’s coffee club. It’s just a bunch of guys talking about their lives, busting each other’s balls, and solving the world’s problems. They get together one Saturday every month to change the oil in people’s cars at no cost. It doesn’t matter who you are. You just sign up, show up, and watch some crotchety old men wash and vacuum your car while changing your oil.

The pastor has led this group for 20-plus years. I’ve seen men from this group die, both old and young. I’ve seen them go to jail and come back out. I’ve seen them break down in tears when their marriage fell apart…oh wait, that was me. They give when someone is in need. They listen when someone needs to be heard. Most of them are old. All of them are good.

A few months ago, I watched members of a church at a community event chastise two ladies that were holding hands. We’ve all seen the street corner zealot with a megaphone telling you to repent or burn in Hell. My church is chuck full of people that will love you no matter who you are, what you’ve done, or what you believe. Because that’s who Jesus is. Do we have to agree with you? No. But should we love you and be there for you? Always.

My point in all of this is not to encourage people to go to church. I want to share that many years ago I found a group of people that are willing to help me grow as a human. They mourn with me through loss. They help me celebrate the good times. They will lend a hand when asked for. They are a bunch of broken people led by a broken man ready to welcome other broken souls into the fold. I hope you have people like this surrounding you.