Men's Bacon

Men's Bacon

 Is there anything related to food, of late, that is more glorious than crispy cured strips of pig meat with the attached chew of fat? I dare say, "I think not." So much so the church I'm attending makes a habit of using the smoky meaty flavor to entice men and older boys to rouse themselves from Saturday slumber to attend a breakfast built around it in hopes of building community, and perhaps allowing someone an opportunity to bump into Jesus, or be exposed to his love, no strings attached. It's marketing and spiritual genius. but that's my opinion.

 As glorious as this get together is from an experiential standpoint, this time around I'm scared to death to attend. I've been asked to be the speaker. FOR 15 TO 20 MINUTES!?! I was asked to share my story. The funny thing is, the "yes" answer escaped my lips before the thought seemed process in my head. It was the 5 minute reality delay that was the real eye opener. And why I feel so nervous about the whole ordeal.

 How do you share a story when you feel so caught up in it. Especially when it's not going as well as you hope it would be after all this time of being exposed to this thing we call church. That's our thing: Understand the significance of our personal story, bump into Jesus, and get on mission with him. 

 I see the significance of my story. I know my wounds. I know the areas I need work in the broadest sense. I've gotten closer to Jesus. I know and have experienced relationship with him. I've been on mission where my passions intersect his direction. But right now, I'm getting my ass kicked. I've almost lost my wife of 9+ years, which would have destroyed the hearts of our six kids. Right now everything feels as though it's hanging by a string, but still I feel led to do this.

 I know there is power in the story. That the pain of it can be transformative, not just transferred. I'm so tired of the pain being transferred, even in the smallest ways. I want it to become powerful in the sense that it gives hope instead of chasing it away again.

 So I'll pray. And write. And hope.