Another Bar Story-This One of Mystery and Intrigue

One day while doing my managerial duty stuff, I answered the phone. So far so good, right. On the other end of the line was a prosecutor from Greene County, Missouri, the Springfield area. He told me that he was investigating a fraud. He had a woman named Jane Poe (not her real name and that's not all) who was seeking WIC and other benefits for her newborn child. The problem is that according to the Social Security Administration I had a woman by the same name working for me in Kansas City. And yes, I had a Jane Poe working for me.

He told me that he suspected his Jane Poe was using my Jane Poe's information to get illegal benefits.

So I went on the hound dog trail and after a couple of days discovered the truth: there was a fraud being perpetrated, not against him but against me. You see, he had the real Jane Poe in Springfield. I had Jane's sister Lynne. You see Jane was over the age of 21 and could tend bar, Lynne wasn't 21 and it was illegal for her to tend bar. Lynne took Jane's ID and got herself a job at my bar.

When I was sure of my information I called the man in Greene County back. He told me "Wait, I'm investigating a fraud here!" I told him "Yes you are, it's just not the fraud you thought it was." He was finally convinced he had the real Jane and I had the real Lynne. Jane got her benefits and Lynne got fired.

See, not all bar stories are beer and blood. There's some real Micky Spillane some days.

Lawyers, Guns, and Money

I went home with a waitress,

the way I always do.

How was I to know,

She was with the Russians too!

-Warren Zevon, "Lawyers, Guns, and Money"

You won't find any legal-eagle details from my end. You will find them on one of several favorite News Channels and Web Sites. The news is that President Obama has signed several executive orders tantamount to controlling the kinds of weaponry that can now be purchased by civilians in the United States. Like I said, I don't know much. I don't know if it bans sale or possession. I don't know if current owners can keep their weapons. I don't even know what kinds of weapons.

I will make one assumption about kinds of weapons. I assume the controls do not extend to every weapon in America.

Let me begin by letting you know where I stand. I'm not opposed to weapons in general. I love venison! I don't care if it's brought down by bow or rifle. Some people hunt for meat to extend the family budget. It is a form of harvesting God's bounty. As for taxidermy, well, I'd prefer hunting for go rather than for show, but that's up to the conservation people not the gun people.

The second thing I will let you know is that 25 years ago my girlfriend committed suicide with a shotgun. She and her friends were going hunting the next day. Guns in the house to go hunting? Yeah, that's not stupid. Were they locked up? If one of the guns was hers she would have access to the cabinet so that's neither here nor there. My point is no amount of gun control would have prevented that. No use blaming anyone and a gun for that and I don't.

My real question is why do civilians need weapons that can rapidly fire in high quantity? That one I don't get. My reflex is to say no civilian needs that kind of fire power. A friend from suburban (formerly rural) Olathe, Kansas displayed his guns, including two weapons that looked like the kind that would quickly fire lots of rounds. The clips on them would hold lots of rounds too. What does a man in suburban Kansas City need with what looks like an assault rifle? Is he a criminal mastermind involved in a violent trade? No. Is he living in fear of criminal masterminds involved in a violent trade? I don't know. I really don't.

I would welcome someone teaching me why these weapons are necessary in civilian hands in the United States, especially in the suburbs. Seriously! I am genuinely curious! Teach me! Also, expect me to ask more questions if I continue not to understand.

Now to take a different tact, let's check out some George Carlin...(Blue language warning! By the way, I don't agree with what GC says about God. Now if he rephrased it to talk about how some folks "speak for God" I'd have much less problem with that. Go to 7:43 for the pertinent part.)

Carlin says something Mr. Sparks, my high school government teacher used to say. Mr. Sparks taught that as long as rights can be defined and redefined we have no rights. Do we have freedom of speech? Well, I can't just go into a classroom and begin teaching what I want to teach. The teacher would be upset. The administration would be upset. That would eventually make the police upset and I would learn that I did not have freedom of speech in that time and place. (Give it a try, you'll see what I mean.)

Constitutional provisions would apply because public education is a function of government. (Private schools have their own protective laws.) Still, because of time and place I don't have a right to address a classroom just because I want to be heard. (Again, give it a try, you'll see what I mean.) Technically, in this case I do not have a constitutionally granted right.

So do we really have any rights if they can be taken away? Carlin says no. Our government says we have rights but some of them can be curtailed. If you don't believe that give the Patriot Act a good read.

First though, what is an executive order? Wikipedia says "the intent [of the Executive Order is] to help direct officers of the U.S. Executive carry out their delegated duties as well as the normal operations of the federal government." So they help direct the Executive Branch do what it does and how it does it.

I guess the constitutional question will be are the Executive Orders signed by President Obama legal or not, constitutional or not. It is not the right of any given Congressman or the man on the street to decide. This one will be left up to the courts to decide. Let them do their job I say.

If the orders are found legal (or whatever) they will remain. If not they will be vacated. An example of a vacated order happened when the Supreme Court ruled in Youngstown Sheet & Tube Co. v. Sawyer, 343 US 579 (1952) that Executive Order 10340 from President Harry S. Truman placing all steel mills in the country under federal control was invalid because it attempted to make law, rather than clarify or act to further a law put forth by the Congress or the Constitution. (Italics added because that will be the final test of these Executive Orders.)

This is a long post, but I hope it's useful. Here's what I say:

1. The President signed some Executive Orders limiting weapons in the hands of civilians.
2. They may or may not be constitutional.
3. It will be up to the courts to decide.
4. If rights can be defined and redefined it can be asked if we really have rights. Some say no, I see their point.
5. I can't understand the civilian want and need to own weapons made for military combat. If there is a reason beyond "I want to start a war" and "I'm afraid someone wants to start a war" I'm listening.
6. I don't get it, but I'm willing to listen and learn. I can't promise I will agree with you, but I will respect your right to your opinion hoping you will do the same for me.

I guess it's worth adding that somewhere in the middle of my list we can add "Many people will do a lot of yelling and screaming" and "Much of it will be overly emotional spouting with limited use beyond the cathartic." With that it's worth quoting Warren one more time...

...Send lawyers, guns and money

the shit has hit the fan!

Several Ways to Vote "Yes"

First-Marshall has been under stress for a long time, some of it financial. On Sunday December 16 the congregation chose to end the suffering and stress by deciding to close the doors. It was a surprise to find our woes in the local paper though, if you want to you can find it at this link.

The way the motion was worded, a "Yes" vote meant being in favor of closing the congregation. A "No" vote was a vote to continue. The congregation knew that voting no wouldn't end our troubles, it would just end the Session's time line.

Now, I saw a "No" vote as a vote of confidence that the Holy Spirit wasn't done with us yet. I saw the "Yes" vote as "nope, this is done." In the last 24 hours I have learned that there was more than one kind of "Yes" vote.

• I'm sure there was a group of folks who just wanted to see the church close. They think ministry is done in this place. They might also think I am done here too.
• Then there is a group who thought "If we go now we can leave a the pastor and the secretary with a generous severance." I know for a fact some of these people voted yes.
• Then there is the yes vote that was cast saying "Pastor Paul would give this a try and work himself to death doing this. I'm voting 'Yes' so this doesn't happen."

So as you see, I have discovered that two out of three ways to vote against my continued work in this city and congregation are actually a vote for me as a pastor and as a human being. 

I believe a PC(USA) presence is still viable in Marshall, but here is what I do know--It is unlikely to continue at this location. Also, with praise to God, Pastor Paul needs to seek a new call.

I was upset at the yes vote, I won't lie. What this vote does is offer freedom to a whole lot of people to seek where God is calling them to be next. For that I praise God.

"Advent" means "waiting." Lord God of heaven and earth, I wait for you, I wait upon you.

Pastor Paul's December Newsletter

Dear Friends, sorry for the long time since my last blog post. Marshall has been wild and woolly and I haven't written much more than sermons and emails for about six months. As for this month's message, some of you know this story. If you've known me 25 years you do. Longer than 25, maybe not. Shorter than 25, maybe not. Then again, this story has been on this blog two other times in one form and another.

This isn't an easy story to tell, it may not be an easy story to read. Know that the blessings are available! They are available when we know our stories well enough to share them with the world, like I do here. This is truth, even in the pain. And as I say, see you in Church.
Paul

Dear Friends in Christ,

One of the themes I’ve shared over the past two years is knowing our faith stories. It’s when we know our stories that our faith becomes real. When our faith is real, it matters. When our faith matters, people want to know what makes it so important. So this is a true story. It’s almost twenty-five years old, and it’s mine. The names have not been changed. No one is innocent.

In the summer of 1985, I finished grad school, a Master of Science in Student Personnel (a counselor education degree for higher ed). But as a twenty-three year old with no professional experience in a tight economy I couldn’t find a job in my field. So, I went back to doing what got me through grad school, I went back to work in the bars.

I worked at a club in the Westport district of Kansas City, Missouri called Buzzard Beach. While there I met a girl, her name was Megan. She was home in KC for a couple of semesters from the University of Wyoming because her grandfather was dying. She was taking education classes at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, working at a hardware store, and playing shuffleboard at my bar. To make a long story shorter, I was taken by her. But too soon, in January 1987, she went back to Wyoming to go back to school and in an age long before email, we began exchanging letters.

That summer, she came back for a couple of weeks and when she did, she blew me off completely. I was ticked. Of course, I didn’t say “ticked.” There are bar words and there are church words, and I won’t use the bar words here.

After some time of hurt feelings and a couple of more letters, I came to know that I had fallen in love with her. I decided what I needed to do is put my cards on the table, tell her how I felt, and let what happens happen. It was just before Thanksgiving so I decided it would be best to do this in person instead of in a letter, but I never got the chance. On December 13, 1987 Megan shot herself. When I got the call, I let out a cry that made God himself shudder.

I knew I needed to be forgiven; forgiven for being so angry with her; forgiven for not telling her how I felt; forgiven for not taking responsibility for my feelings and my actions; or inactions really. But I could not find forgiveness, so I ran away and hid.

I hid in work. I hid in a bottle. I hid in plain sight. Finally, I ended up hiding in Lamar, Colorado 81052. About two after Megan’s death, I was running a dormitory at Lamar Community College.

After a few years in Colorado I began to hear that still small voice of the Lord, the one that told me if I was waiting to be “good enough” before going back to church I would never be good enough and I would never go. So one Sunday, I ended up in a pew at the First Presbyterian Church in Lamar and began the journey that brings me to you today. But since that’s another story I’ll finish this one first.

I attended regularly and began reading my bible. I started to learn about grace and forgiveness. But one thought haunted me: No matter how hard I tried to deal with my guilt, it never went away. Truth be known, I was probably giving it away with my right hand and taking it right back with the left.

One night, at a Presbyterian revival service (yeah, a Presbyterian revival—it may be an oxymoron, but it’s still a true story) the pastor spoke on forgiveness. He preached on Matthew’s version of the Lord’s Prayer with special attention to 6:15, “but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

Don’t get me wrong, I understood, to be forgiven I would have to forgive. But what did I have to forgive her for? She was the one who was in so much pain that she thought the only way out of it was to kill herself. What did I possibly have to forgive her for? Then, by the grace of God, I was given an answer: I had to forgive her for forgetting. I had to forgive her for forgetting about her family, her friends, and I had to forgive her for forgetting about me. I had to forgive her for leaving. I had to forgive her. And in that moment, after nearly eight years of mourning, I did.

And at that moment, I don’t know if you heard the angelic choir or not, but at the moment I forgave, by the grace of God, I was forgiven too. I had held onto my mourning and sorrow for so long, when the weight was lifted I knew I was in the presence of God. At that moment, I was in a holy place in my life.

Wonderfully, just a few months later, I met Marie. If I had met her any earlier I wouldn’t have been ready. She would have known it, and life as I know it would have been without the love I know today. Thank God I didn’t meet Marie one minute before I was ready to meet her.

Megan’s mom came to Colorado for our wedding. Megan’s sister Jenny caught Marie’s bouquet. During the reception dance I thanked her for coming. And I told her that I am a better man, and will be a better husband, for having known her daughter.

I say that this is my story, but in truth it’s more than that. First of all, I have many more stories than this one, but this one is important and it was once the dominant story of my life. But more importantly, it isn’t my story, it’s God’s story. The Lord gave it to me so that I can share a personal story of grace and forgiveness.

So, what’s your story? Some folks have a big dramatic story like this one. I love the people whose story begins with “I have known the Lord all my life, so I really don’t have a big dramatic story.” Lightening moments are dramatic, but the peace that is beyond all understanding is just as glorious.

So what is the story the Lord has given you? When people ask how your faith shapes you these are the kind of things they want to hear. I’ll finish with something I said on November 11: “Jesus doesn’t want us to share the Book of Order with the world; he wants us to share the joy of our relationship with God in three persons, the Father, the Son and the Spirit. He wants us to share our relationship with God who is right here, up-close and personal. He wants us to share our relationship with God who loves the world so much he gave his only begotten son.”  This can only begin when we know our stories.

See you in church,

Paul

A Defensive Lament

I was recently told that I embarrassed myself. I didn't know that I had embarrassed myself, but I did and was graciously told what I did. I did it too, guilty as charged!

It's true, you can take a boy out of managing a bar, have him work in higher education for ten years, send him to seminary for over three, and put him in the pulpit for seven more years and when the $#it hits the fan, well, you get the point.

It's been a tough few months here at Chez Paul et Marie. A couple of weekends ago it got to me and I dropped a few "F" bombs in places they did not need dropping. The biggest problem with people who "overhear" stuff is that context is invariably lost. I was in a bad place personally, I was asked to share, and I did so with a strafing motion. It was all directed at myself (which isn't particularly healthy, but that's for another post), but when folks overhear and all they see is the bomb, they don't know how or why it's falling.

I confess my sin and I thank the person who shared it with me. I will also add that once the grapevine reported to her she told me. I honor her for that because it wasn't easy, she told me so. She did what others would not, she told me.

So, what did she do right?

• She came to me calmly.
• She told me what's what.
• She came in care and concern and love and honor and respect not just for me but for the people who shared with her.

What could I say but thank you?

I lament and I regret my potty mouth. That's a fact. The bad news is this is as close to a direct apology I can make because I don't know who's talking about me behind my back. Is this the "defensive" part? Maybe. Have I got more? Yes, but that's just me trying to get my camel through the eye of the needle.

All I can ask now is that you forgive me

I Met an Angel. His Name Was Earl.

This is an odd story, as many stories are. I suspect that if all stories were "normal" there would really be no point to recording or repeating them. This is the story of an angel named Earl. I'll let you decide if this story is worth recording or repeating.

Last Wednesday afternoon I had a meeting with my Spiritual Director. (Spiritual directors are folks who "who share a commitment to the art of contemplative spiritual compassionate listening." This statement comes from the Spiritual Director's International Website along with much more information about Spiritual Direction.

He asked me about how I had been blessed lately. I talked about my second anniversary at the church (celebrated on Monday October 1) and about other stuff, but there have been so many stresses in my life lately that sometimes the blessings get buried under the dung. It's like one comes like fairy dust and the other comes in a bulldozer. Can I get an "Amen"?

Not long after the Spiritual Director left a man rang the church doorbell. There was a black man at the door, maybe in his late 20's but looking much older, and having told us he could not read or write-his voice sounded like someone who could not read or write. (No problem though, his mamma could read it to him.) On top of it all, he was illiterate-he knew some of the stories but he had no idea what they were called or where to find them.

I hate using what we called in Kansas "discouraging words," but it was true. He was dirty. His clothes were in tatters. He looked and sounded like a walking-talking stereotype. Then again, this might have been a part of some sort of test. More on that in a couple.

When I answered the door, he said that he was sent over to us from another because he was looking for some bibles. I said "Sure" and headed toward the chapel. Georgia, the church secretary, offered to go and get some from the spares stored in the choir room. That was perfect, as Georgia frequently is. So he came into my study while Georgia went to the choir room for four bibles. I also gave him a Gideon's New Testament-Psalms-Proverbs book. He asked for three of those. No problem, there are plenty more where that came from.

He asked me to mark some things for him. He asked me to mark "that place where it says 'the Lord is my shepherd.'" No problem, the 23rd Psalm coming right up! By this time Georgia got to my office with the other bibles and she started marking them. He also wanted that story of the guy who "Satan took everything he had but God returned it seven times. "No problem, the book of Job coming right up!

This is when Georgia had to leave. She had a appointment. No problem, that was in the works all week.

This is when Earl made a less direct request. He said that he was watching TBN (Trinity Broadcasting Network) the other day and they mentioned a scripture "where God brings two people together who have nothing in common, but it blesses them both."

I thought about it for a moment. By this time I had begun to believe Earl was a soul God placed in my day so I could see that I could be a blessing and be blessed-kind of the on the nose about what my Spiritual Director was saying.

I told Earl that I didn't know the verse they used on TBN or what they were talking about, but I wanted to share Hebrews 13:2, "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it." (NIV) I told him that he was a blessing in my life; he was the man I needed to see that day. So I marked it in the bible he handed me and that's when it got weird.

Suddenly, Earl's complete demeanor changed. He stood taller. His eyes were more clear. His voice took on a power and command I sure didn't expect. He gave me a blessing. I don't know exactly what it was because I was so taken aback that I didn't hear everything he said. What I did get was when he said "We won't see each other again for a long time, but we will see each other again," and that's where it got fuzzy again.

As he started to leave he dropped one of the small Gideon testaments, and when he went to pick it up the moment was over. His old voice returned as he said "Whoops."

It's said that the vast majority of people never have a spiritual experience while in church. Well, I had mine that day. I met a man who seemed to shrug off a human facade like I take off my shirt. He blessed me and told me that we will meet again one day. He spoke in a voice of peace and authority that I haven't ever heard from another human being. Was it an angel named Earl? I think so. I just pray that when you need to meet your angel, the experience will be as wonderful as when I met Earl.

God bless us everyone!
Amen.

A Tale of Parenting

As you know, I don't have children of my own, but that doesn't stop me from sharing my friends' stories. This one comes from sunny Lamar, Colorado 81052 (or at least the hinterlands). Since they don't know I am sharing the story with the world I'm leaving out the names.

It is also known that I love Steely Dan and wish everyone could know the Mighty, Mighty Dan. (On a side note, for those who think all Steely Dan fans are slightly dis-affected youths who are now in their 50's all I can say is--Guilty. Next...) These parents are Dan-fans too and I hope I had a bit to do with helping them introduce their children to their music.

So Dad tells me this parenting story--

One night their daughter came home late. Late. After curfew late. They were not amused.

Mom asked "Where were you? Where have you been with?"



After a moment of contemplation, daughter answers "Luckless pedestrians."

Dad covered his mouth and squinted his eyes closed tight. Mom said "Go to your room."

I think daughter knows her parents were not amused, but the Dan reference did make Dad proud. Pauley (how I was known to this wonderful family)is pretty proud too.

Is there a parent anywhere who doesn't have that moment? Upset in one moment and disarmed in the next? Yeah, go to your room!