When I was seventeen I dated a girl who went to a Baptist church in a smaller suburb of St. Louis. Her church was small. The sanctuary smelled like my grandmothers coat closet and the pews were hard, uncomfortable and scratched from years of kids digging their finger nails into the dull wood. The church was the kind I had imagined a church to be growing up; Pot luck dinners on Sunday nights and little old ladies singing the ‘Doxology’ off key on Sunday morning.

Little kids wore suits that were past down from their older siblings. They were too small; their pants would only reach the tops of their ankles leaving their miss-matched socks exposed.

The pastor of that church was a short man, his hair was pulled all the way back and was still damp from either his Sunday morning shower or the lack of air conditioning in the stuffy, humid one room church. He wore a suit that was out of style, it was probably purchased at garage sale by his wife a few years back. I could tell it was his preaching suit because his worn-in maroon leather bible matched his pressed faded maroon sport coat.

He looked older than he was; years of preaching had gave him a raspy voice and he walked with a slight limp. He was fiery, passionate and he knew what he believed. The week that I went was a normal Sunday morning for them, the sun was bright, and it was hot outside, but even hotter inside. The four high ceiling fans only acted to blow the trapped heat down to us causing a slight breeze of warm obnoxious air. We walked in, and sat down next to the center isle about six rows back from the front where a hand carved wooden alter stood.

The preacher walked up to the podium, grabbed his aged bible and a copy of the church bulletin which was simply typed on a letter size paper folded once in the middle. People shifted in their seats and you heard the rustling of people pulling out their bulletins from their King James Bibles and large leather Sunday purses. On the front of the bulletin was the name and contact information of the church. There was a simple geometric cross right below that. It was nothing impressive at all. Inside were all the prayer needs. Sister Mary needs prayer for her husbands heart condition, Brother Earl needs prayer for persistent headaches, and the list filled a whole half page. On the back was information on an upcoming evangelist and a pot-luck that was occurring the following Sunday.

As the preacher finished up with the bulletin, he made eye contact with me. I knew this wasn’t going to be good; “Looks like we have a visitor today; stand up son and tell everyone your name,” he said with big grin as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his matching cloth handkerchief that he had in his left breast pocket.

This was new to me; I’ve been to churches that do meet and greet, but I guess at this church I was the meet and great. I stood up and in a loud confident voice said, my name is Patrick Fore, and I’m from Freeport, Illinois. The next thing I knew there were a line of people forming in front of me. I guess this church doesn’t get visitors very often, and to get a teenager was a special treat. As I began to shake hands, all the old ladies pinched my cheek and said “God bless you”, and the older gentleman offered me their old leathery callused hands, I shook it firmly and returned a smile.

This was my first and really only Baptist experience growing up. My mom told me once about the zealous Baptists who would hang out near the schools while trying to convert the heathen 3rd graders and pass out tracts and little orange bibles.

So I guess now finding myself in a Southern Baptist church is a very strange thing for me. I would be lying if I said I didn’t have reservations because I do. The transition from a more charismatic church in Grand Rapids, Michigan to a Southern Baptist church in Dubuque, Iowa is a definite culture shift.

The only reason I am making the shift and transition isn’t because I am turning Baptist and letting go of my Pentecostal beliefs. I guess I am under the belief that I am a Christ Follower and nothing else. I refuse to define myself as a Baptist or a Pentecostal. I am not anything but a guy that runs after God and hungers and thirsts for His presence in my life. At this point, I could really careless what church I’m in. I am going to try with everything I have to act as one who has been called out and redeemed. I refuse to fit the mold of a Baptist, Pentecostal or even a Christian. I desire everything that God offers us. I refuse to be scared of what I don’t understand, and I refuse to let my narrow-minded thinking get in the way of what God wants to do through me.

A friend told me he could never serve in a place where they don’t recognize the gifts of the spirit. I haven been thinking about that a lot lately. I think I’ve come to the conclusion that maybe the reason why God has placed me in such a conservative and reserved community is because he wants to use me to show people what they can have and what He can do. That blows my mind.

I guess that as a Christ Follower the lines of denominations are blurred. I think it isn’t that important anymore what church affiliation you side with. If you search the scriptures the only really denomination that God showed us was the sheep’s and the goats; those that follow God and love people and the ones that are stubborn and do their own thing with out having a kingdom mindset.

I love my new church. Yes, it’s more of a contemporary church, modern in its methods, but the people there love God, and love people. That is what is important I’m discovering. Even though I stuck out like a sore thumb in that old Baptist church in Florissant, Missouri, I don’t doubt that those old farmers and farmer’s wives live God, and I know they have a grandparent love for the up and coming younger generations.

How we define ourselves isn’t by whom we associate with or even what we believe, it is by how much we love God and love others. To be a Christian is easy and shallow most of the time. To be a Christ Follower and live a life that Jesus has called us to is the most challenging, yet the most fulfilling.

Let love be a catalyst to our success, continue to break down the denominational walls and bring unity to the body of Christ. One Church, One World, One Love.

I want the things you just can't give me...

It's a Nickel Creek blue grass morning. The new sun brought with it, melancholy and uncertainty. Last night I stayed up pretty late playing my guitar and sitting in front of the radiant glow of my Dell, typing and clicking away. I wish I could calculate how many hours were spent in front of a monitor of some kind; or it's possible that I don't really want to know.

Uncertainty seems to be the theme of my life. I've learned not to worry. Last year my fear was that I was going to have to move back home because I couldn't afford to live in Michigan. Now my fear is that God wants me in Michigan; as such I'm leaving the details up to him. I'm probably not going to be at the camp this summer. Hopefully I will have acquired some other position that pays more. Health insurance maybe, please Mr. Scrooge?

TheCurrent is in a strange place. I'm not really sure what the future looks like for us, even the immediate future. I know that moving is in the picture. Not sure where, I know where ever we go its going to be a huge leap of faith. Money is something that I'm sure God laughs at, the whole concept of it that is. But its hard for us to laugh at, it's something we "need". I feel weird saying that. I feel dirty saying that. Churches that I used to work for used to say that. That is gross to me. I never, in this church or any one that I pastor want to feed people the lie that unless you give financially to the church, then God won't bless your finances. I would much rather have people in theCurrent give money to a single mom who works two jobs.

Even in my giving, I wish I could give my car away. I think I could, I think God would bless me for doing so, but that would have me to take my faith to a level that I'm not ready for. I guess it comes down to unbelief. I don't believe the promises enough that because God takes care of the flowers of the field and the birds in the air, that how much more will He take care of me; His adopted son.

I got in a car accident last Tuesday. It was strange how it all went down. The week previous I sat on a bar stool in the Essential Bean, at theCurrent service delivering a message about how we lack the faith for God to provide; so as such we don't give. We don't give to the poor; we don't give to the church. We just save, horde, and keep on spending; meanwhile kids go hungry, people on the streets freeze and somewhere a mother cries her self to sleep because she can't pay the bills.

There is a song by Derek Webb that speaks to my soul every time I hear it. Its soul piercing, the truth and honesty are thick. I graciously provided the lyrics below.

Rich Young Ruler

poverty is so hard to see
when it's only on your tv and twenty miles across town
where we're all living so good
that we moved out of Jesus' neighborhood
where he's hungry and not feeling so good
from going through our trash
he says, more than just your cash and coin
i want your time, i want your voice
i want the things you just can't give me

so what must we do
here in the west we want to follow you
we speak the language and we keep all the rules
even a few we made up
come on and follow me
but sell your house, sell your suv
sell your stocks, sell your security
and give it to the poor
what is this, hey what's the deal
i don't sleep around and i don't steal
i want the things you just can't give me

because what you do to the least of these
my brother's, you have done it to me
because i want the things you just can't give me

It’s amazing how quickly things can change in ones life. Thoughts, perspectives, relationships, passions; they all can shift at a moments notice.

I guess I’ve lived my life up to this point a certain way, it has worked in a few ways, but in many more it has failed me. I’m alive, I’m doing ok. But I think I am approaching a season of my life of intense change. I guess I’m tired and warn out of living the way I am. I’ve kept up this certain image for far to long, my life isn’t defined by authenticity, but more or less trying to be someone I’m not.

I shaved my head yesterday. I guess it’s symbolic in a way. It was hard to do. I’ve literally had to grieve its loss. I had a dream last night where I woke up and all my hair back again. I don’t know if I’m at the point of regretting it, but I seriously question myself for doing it. I guess it’s symbolic in the sense that I know that God has been leading me to rid my life of some hard stuff. I know that God is calling me to be someone, which differs from the person that I currently am. For far too long I have been shaped and molded by society and other people’s opinions and I am quite frankly tired of it.

Today has been a day of feeling sorry for myself; depression might be the right word for it. I guess I don’t know what is in store for the road ahead. There are feelings of fear, and excitement. Feelings of pain and joy in knowing that I am turning a corner in my life, and maybe these feelings are feelings that of grief, in that I am losing something, I am loosing a part of me that has been with me for a long time.

What started this? What started this sort of thinking? I can’t say all, but a lot of this came from a book that God used as a mirror to show me a life that I should be living, and a life that I should be leaving.

It’s a paper back, approximately 350 pages, on the cover it has the texture of a cardboard box and on the binding it creates the illusion that it’s held together with duct-tape. On the left margin of the cover it’s a picture the author Shane Claiborne. He is pretty normal looking 20-something, square trendy glasses, and a patch of hair that covers his chin. I guess what makes him stand out is the bandanna that holds back his long, shaggy hair. The title of the book is in that of a vintage maroon font, “The Irresistible Revolution,” it reads, with a sub-title of “Living as an ordinary radical,”.

I picked up this book not knowing what to expect, I hadn’t heard anything about it. The only reason I bought was because some of my favorite authors had indorsed it. I would suggest that you go out and by this book, but I’m not going to. I hate it. I haven’t been able to read it for the past two days. I’m only on page 114 and I don’t know if I can get through the rest. I seriously don’t suggest reading this book unless you want your faith, your life to be rocked.

For the past 8-years of my life I thought I have been a Christ Follower. I’ve learned that I haven’t covered much ground. I live so selfishly, always thinking about me and my needs. My goals and my plans for the future, I guess it doesn’t matter so much anymore, my plans that is, and I guess I am at the point where I am ready to learn how to give my life away, as apposed to just living my life.

I feel like I need to make a choice. Either I completely walk away from my faith leaving everything behind, and pursue a life that part of me desires, making money, having sex and doing what I want, or I truly lay my life down at the cross, and pick up a huge burden of living out the kingdom of God.

Each side has its positives and negatives, each side I could maybe see myself doing, each side scares me. But I’m learning that I can’t have a mixture of the two.

Please pray for me as I make this choice, I don’t know what to expect, and what all this means. I am in a weird state right now and it’s all rather new to me.

Although now a cliché’, I feel like Neo in the Matrix and I have a choice of what pill to take. One pill is that of mediocrity, and the other scares the shit out of me.

Kimm is a fun girl; she is might what you call bubbly, she has an extroverted personality, perfect for employment at a camp. With a Ramons tee-shirt and men’s Levis jeans and short dyed red hair, Kim just by looking at her is an interesting person.

I met Kimm a few months after I started working at a camp south of Grand Rapids. About a year ago we were driving down the highway talking about whatever till she noticed a black hard back book sitting in my back seat.

The book she picked up was ‘Adventures in Missing the Point’ by Tony Compolo and Brian McLaren. This book examines of issues of the faith and culture and from their perspective dialogue about the points missed by the church.

I knew Kimm wasn’t a Christian; she had made that clear to me when I told her that my previous job was working at a large church in Grand Rapids. When I told her, she looked at me like I just told her I ran away to join the circus, though in many ways that church was much like a circus. Because of this reaction, I was curious to see how she would react to Compolo’s and McLaren’s writings.

I got comfortable, tilting my drivers seat back, and started driving like a white gangsta and let her read. A few minutes past by and she looked up and asked me my feelings on homosexuality and homosexual marriage. With out even thinking about it, I went into Jerry Farwell mode and started to regurgitate what has been engrained in my head by the evangelical church. To be honest, it wasn’t quite Farwell, but it wasn’t Jesus either. I didn’t even think about why she might ask such a question.

I told her how it doesn’t line up with God’s plan for creation. I told Kimm that marriage was intended for a man and a woman, and I told her that specifically marriage is reserved for a man and a woman and not persons of the same sex. I said all this with the same rhetoric that is communicated in the church.

Later that night we were strolling through the mall, making conversation about the various people passing us. We kept walking and soon a girl walked up to us whom obviously knew Kimm and started to have a conversation with her. I stood there and tried not to pay to much attention to what they were saying. As I was trying to pretend like I was interested in a flyer for some nail solon, one sentence caught my attention, “Are you still with that one girl, what’s her name,” she instantly looked at me to see if I noticed and waited for me to react. I tried not to, but in my mind I was yelling at myself for our little homosexual conversation that took place about an hour previous.

She finished up her friendly exchange with her friend and we continued to walk. She was obviously flustered and a little upset. “I can’t believe she out’ed me like that,” she said while crossing her arms and looking down. “Patrick, I hope that doesn’t bother you that I’m gay.” “Not at all, don’t worry about it,” I responded, not wanting to embarrass her anymore than she already was.

I really wasn’t bothered; I really didn’t know what to think. I am embarrassed to say that after 8 years of being a Christian, I hadn’t known or was friends with any homosexual. Oh sure I had met some, but I had never hung out with them. Up until this point this was reserved exclusively for Christians. Flowed thinking I know, but this is all I had known.

God has taught me that in order to connect with His heart, I must begin to connect with the culture in which I live. I begin to read the gospels so much differently after God began to reveal these things to me. I began to see the love and compassion that Jesus had for ordinary people. The biggest thing that struck me was not the respect and awe these people showed Jesus, but they thought of Jesus as a normal friend, whom they could hang out with, talk with and eat food with. This, I’m discovering is a picture of what our attitude and mentality should be towards those that don’t know God.

Kimm is a good friend; we connect on a deep level. We have amazing conversations about all kinds of things. But she doesn’t know God. She will in time I believe, but right now all I can do is love her as a friend, and continue to pray for her.

It makes me sick though, to hear churches views on homosexuality, not because I necessarily disagree with the heart of the message, but how they present this message then puts up massive walls that closes the homosexual community off even more to hearing about how much God loves them, and how much they need Him to fulfill this huge void, that only God Himself can fill. In the big picture, the sin of homosexuality is no different then the sin of lust, murder or theft. That Jesus died for them just as much me, and to look upon my sin as more acceptable is completely wrong and unbiblical.

I think everyone should have a friend just like Kimm, someone that can clue you in on what is happening in culture. Someone that doesn’t hold your same, lets face it, narrow way of thinking. That as Christians we should be just as much in and involved in culture as Jesus was. That no longer can we afford to hide behind or renovated suburban church walls, but we should be out, in and among those whom we are called to reach. That when we do, we will connect with the heart of God in a much deeper way than we can ever imagine.