Art and Icy Wind

The temperature outside has dropped from 32 degrees to 24 degrees since lunch today.  I'm standing in this room, elbow to elbow with people in nice wool coats, scarves, hats, and gloves in their pockets.  When I say elbow to elbow, it is literally just that.  This place is packed.  There is hardly room to breathe, much less, move around.  It's an art show for the area high schools at the local, downtown art gallery. 

The longer I stand there, the closer the crowd gets, and being one who has a propensity to flip completely out in a crowded room, my panic gauge begins to peg, and I have to find some air...soon. 

I begin working my way toward the door, waiting for this person to move a couple inches, and that person to turn just a little, so that I can squeeze through the gap between them.  Over and over, I repeat this stopping and waiting, inching across the room, until I'm finally through the doors and outside on the sidewalk.

Immediately, the wind blowing off of the river and down Broadway hits me in the face, and for just a second, I wonder if it wasn't better inside the crowded room, but...people...and too many of them.  I stand on the sidewalk outside the gallery and watch him across the street, on the opposite corner. 

Inside that building, on that corner, were more nice wool coats, hats, gloves, and scarves; only they weren't crowded into a gallery, "oohing" and "aahing" over high school art students' latest works.  They were seated around small tables with steaks or glasses of wine.

I watch him from across the street.  Obviously, he didn't have a nice wool coat, or he would have had it on.  The wind was picking up speed as it made its way down the river and across the parking lot.  I turned for just a second, looked back, and he was gone.  I don't know where he went, but he wasn't standing on the corner, opposite me anymore.  No doubt, if he wasn't completely homeless, he at least did without the extras in life.  All it took was a peek at what he was wearing to be able to tell that.

I don't know why, but something inside me said, "Hey, let's try a little experiment.  Just looking at what's around you, and without being able to get inside a building, see if you can find a warm spot out of the wind." 

I guess I probably looked crazy, and actually I'm a little surprised that no one called the police.  While everyone else was still inside the gallery looking at art, and the others were sitting around little tables, sipping wine, I was creeping around corners...in and out of doorways...and going into alleys.  The funny thing, and not so funny at the same time, was that no matter where I went or which corner I turned, I could not get out of the wind. 

One would think that, eventually, some part of some building would block the wind, but I never found that spot.  Realistically, I was only out there for about 15 minutes before I'd had enough, and slipped back inside...but...

...but, I wondered where he went...and others like him...

It was just supposed to be an afternoon trip to the art gallery to see a piece that my youngest had in the show.  It turned into a reminder of just how good I really have it, and how so many aren't so lucky. 

This past week I saw a couple of guys sitting beside a stop sign.  It happens so often that, to some, it's almost cliche'.  I stopped, saw a break in the traffic, and made my turn.  It was getting late in the afternoon.  I had to start supper, and honestly, I just wasn't in the mood.  As I sat there in traffic, waiting for the light, my first thought was, "Damn.  I have to go back.  But I don't want to." 

I pulled out of the turning lane, hit the fast food drive in for a few burgers and some hot coffee (Which cost way more than I had planned on spending), circled back around and stopped this time.  I rolled down the window, handed them the sack and cups of coffee, and asked where they were headed. 

Austin, Texas. 

Austin, Texas is roughly 700 miles from Paducah, Ky...and it's January.  In Paducah, in January, it gets cold.  Bone chilling cold.  If you're on foot, hitching a ride, looking for a meal, or sleeping outside, Paducah, in January is probably not the ideal spot. 

Now, why have I written about this?  Not so that I'll get patted on the back, and I don't want anyone to comment with, "Bless you for doing that for those guys."  Honestly, if my conscience had let me, I might have made my turn and gone on home.  I'm writing about these two experiences, within the span of just a few days, to raise awareness of the fact that it is winter and not everyone has a place to get in out of the cold. 

Try it some time.  Go downtown on a cold, windy day, and try to find a corner that the wind is not whipping around. 

Then, imagine if you can, that the sidewalk by that particular corner is where you're sleeping tonight. 

Then, after you've don't that...all I ask is this...don't drive by the next guys sitting at a stop sign.  Who knows the difference a hot meal, a cup of coffee, and a little conversation might make.  Will it fix their problem or end homelessness?  Good Lord, no...
but anything is better than nothing.

"Whatever you did for the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."

       

  

A Different Kind of Christmas Story

 (This is my Christmas letter to Grace Church)

            It was a hot day in June of my 12th year.  I had been away at summer camp all week.  On Friday afternoon mom and dad met the bus to pick me up and take me home.  As we got ready to pull into the driveway, I saw my border collie, Tippy, lying in the road ditch.  I hoped against hope that he was just taking a nap while he waited for me to get home.  Unfortunately, Highway 94 in south Graves County had claimed another family pet.  As my dad made ready to lay Tippy to rest, I walked the field behind the house...a complete and total mess.  That day I swore to myself that I would never, ever, never love another dog.  What was the point?  I'd just get attached and something would happen to it.  So at 12 years old, I gave up on having a dog.  Forever. 

            Over 30 years later, something began to change.  Every now and then I'd find myself thinking about Tippy and thinking that it might be nice to have another one.  But I didn't want to go through that again, and since I was allergic to short haired dogs, that was a good enough excuse.  I'd see one and say, "Stupid dog."  I'd hear someone talking about their dog chewing up the couch I'd say, "That's why I have cats.  Dogs are stupid.  Cats don't care if you're there or not."  I tried hard to hate dogs.  The truth was, though, I was just scared of losing another one.         

            Then the desire got strong enough that I actually started looking for one, but it was going to have to be the right one...the perfect dog.  It couldn't make me sneeze.  It couldn't bark.  It couldn't chew up my house shoes.  It couldn't go ripping around the house, and it couldn't dig up my yard.  I figured that if I set the requirements high enough, I'd never find the perfect dog, and I could say, "Well, hey, I tried."

            Well...I found one.  But he wasn't perfect.  He didn't make me sneeze, but he barks some.  When I went to meet him, he was a nervous wreck.  He couldn't control his bladder.  He cowered.  He wouldn't come to me.  As the shelter director told me his story, my walls started coming down.  He had been mistreated all of his life.  He didn't trust men.  He was malnourished.  He was dirty.  He needed to be loved.  After 30 minutes or so, I thanked them for letting me meet him and left.  All week long I kept thinking about that stupid dog.  I spent the next several days going back and forth between wanting to rescue him and give him a shot at a decent life, and thinking that the last thing I needed was a dog to take care of.  Then late this week I said to myself, "What are you so afraid of?  Just do it.  He needs you."

            Now, why have I written about that in a Christmas letter to the church I serve?  There are a couple reasons.  One, this time of year brings to mind a great many hurts in our own lives.  Many of us are dealing with grief that will never go away, and the best we can hope is that time will somehow ease our pain.  Nothing that anyone can say or do will make that just go away, and I want to honor that place in your lives.  Well-meaning people will, to their error, try to convince us that it's time to just move on.  However, some of the things we are grieving can never be replaced or forgotten, nor should they be. 

            Still, this is also a time to remember that there are, walking among us, an immeasurable number of people who want one thing...to be loved.  They're not perfect.  Many have things in their past that have separated them from family and friends.  Some are struggling financially.  Many have experienced some great loss in their lives this year.  For people who find themselves in any of those situations, this season only amplifies the effects of depression and anxiety.

            The baby that we gather this week to celebrate grew up to tell us that those were the ones he came for.  We may have never thought about it quite that way, but the very reason there is a Christmas season is because there was, and will always be, someone who needs to be loved.  Since Christ's presence on earth now is no longer a physical one, the work of bringing love, joy, peace, and hope to a hurting world falls squarely on our shoulders as his followers.  This season calls us to be even more intentional about doing just that.

            At Grace, our mission statement is to "Connect people to Christ and to each other."  It's not just a catchy slogan that looks good on the sign out front.  It's at the center of who we are...the work we've been called to...our very reason for existing.  We are here for the ones who feel that, for whatever reason, they aren't loved.  If you would like to partner with us on this awesome task, we can help change the world one relationship at a time.  It's not an easy work that we're called to...but it can be life changing.  By helping support the ministries of the church we can bring hope, joy, peace, and love to a hurting world.        

            His name is now Perry, and he's so ugly that he's cute.  This week he found a new home.  The first four years of his life have been filled with fear and suffering.  This Christmas, he has shown me that love really does conquer fear and I'm going to do all I can to make sure that for the rest of his life...he knows that he's loved.  We, as a church, can do the same for any who cross our paths. 

 

Peace,  

J

Grace Church LaCenter

PO Box 330

LaCenter, KY 42056

Sitting on the Fence...

I'm torn.

I've kind of shied away from doing anything like this lately, but it's starting to bother me, so I'm just going to throw it out there...the world is going to hell in a handbasket. That's nothing new. It's been happening for hundreds of years, maybe longer.

People are scared...and rightly so.

We have become ill at ease while engaging in the most basic things of life...meetings, shopping, going to the movies.

The level of trust for any who are different has nose dived...and again...maybe rightly so.

We've circled the wagons, and the rhetoric coming from our newsfeeds has tighened that circle.

Over 16 years ago, I answered a call that has forever changed me. I'm not the same person I was then. Oh, I'm no saint, don't get me wrong. In fact, sometimes I can be an absolute ass...but I think differently about things now than I did while I was still driving nails every day.

Things that I would have never given a second thought to saying out loud then, give me pause now. I was a hard man then. I had very little tolerance for any who didn't share my views, and if you worked for me, you had better tow the line. I've fired guys for things that seem so trivial now.

I have two daughters now, who are almost grown, and that has changed me as well. I think about how to keep them safe, who they're talking to, what they're doing, but especially about how to keep them safe.

I watch the news just like everybody else. I see the images. I hear the stories. My heart breaks.

I read the stories from our faith, study them, expound on them every week. And that's where I'm torn. So in the spirit of transparency, the reason I'm torn is that while I'm a pastor, I'm also a man.

The pastor in me knows about the call of Christ to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. That's what I preach. It's what I try to live...try to. The man in me knows that to do that opens myself, and any around me, up to all of those things we fear. The struggle is indeed real.

Then I remember part of the liturgy of the table in my denomination:

"Merciful God, we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart. We have failed to be an obedient church. We have not done your will, we have broken your law, we have rebelled against your love, we have not loved our neighbors, and we have not heard the cry of the needy. Forgive us, we pray. Free us for joyful obedience, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

I'm torn. And I own that. I haven't always heard the cry of the needy, nor sometimes do I even want to. Yet, I'm not 100% sure that I'm free for joyful obedience all of the time.

I realize the call to welcome. I understand that I'm supposed to love unconditionally as I have been unconditionally loved. I've heard over and over again that if I claim to be a follower, I'm also claiming to be a messenger of peace. Hell, I've even said that, over and over. But...

...but I'm also a man, living in the reality that there is indeed evil afoot, struggling to find any sense of balance between who I'm called to be and my human nature...and I'm not alone. This is a very real struggle among those of us who claim to follow the Prince of Peace. We want to honor our faith, but at the same time, we're scared. And I get that.

So what do we do?

With the presidential campaigns in full swing, I'm seeing a mix of fear mongering and denial. It makes me wonder if we're seeing some of the same kinds of things in the church, and in those who make up the church. 

What does the Church do in the face of terror attacks? 
What does the Church, the followers of Christ, do with mass shootings? 
What does the Church do with gun control?
What does the Church do with the Prince of Peace?
How does the church balance our instinct for safety and survival with the call from the itinerant rabbi we claim to follow?

These are very real questions, and we can either openly and honestly struggle with them or we can stick our heads in the sand and pretend that our people are not genuinely afraid of the times.

There have been calls to arms...part of me gets that. There have also been calls to peace...and part of me gets that. But what about those of us who are finding ourselves stuck in the middle...on the proverbial fence, if you will?

Do I own firearms? Yes. Would I use them to protect my family? Without batting an eye. Am I willing to take the risk of welcoming someone who may wind up doing me harm? I think so, but wouldn't do so knowing that was their intention. I don't think many of us would.

Do I want to welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, clothe the naked? Yes. Is it because I really want to, or because Jesus tells me to? Honestly, it depends on the situation. Am I afraid to do that?

Sometimes. Yes.

But that doesn't negate my call to do those things. Fear does not undo the reality that, as a pastor...whether the man within me wants to, or not...I am called to seek peace. Why? Because that was the example Christ left us. It wasn't just some catch phrase...it was the way he lived...and died. 

So for now, I continue to struggle. I guess I'm still sitting on the fence, and some may say that's a coward's way out...but I'm just being honest. I know who I've been called to be, what I've been called to do, but I also know how unbelievably dangerous it can be. I know that my fears and struggles are real, and many of yours may be as well. 

This could absolutely blow up in my face, or...there could be someone who reads this and says, "Thank God I'm not alone."
I welcome conversation, as long as we can keep it focused and civil.

She's Not Okay...

I have a love-hate relationship with social media.  I don't tweet much, but I do have a social media account that I use with a fair amount of regularity.  Sometimes I hate that I love it.  Sometimes I love to hate it.  It can be a great ministry tool...but it can also be the devil on the small screen. 


I'm always curious to see if anything I post hits anyone in a positive way.  This week, it did.  It was just a picture of a quote, and it wasn't even my quote.  I saw it and thought, "Yes, that."  I have no clue who the original author is, but it's not me, so I own that.  But...it was shared more than anything else I have posted on social media in nearly 10 years, which led me to believe...this is a problem.  Here's what it said:


"Just because a person doesn't put hands on you, that doesn't mean they aren't abusive.  Abuse is control, blatant disrespect, and also hurtful words.  Don't settle for emotional abuse thinking it's okay because it's not physical." 


This Saturday will be my 16th anniversary in pastoral ministry.  Over those 16 years I have seen this played out over and over.  Folks will come into my office, shoot me a text, send me an email, or actually pick up the phone and call...and this is what it's about. 


They have realized that something isn't right in the relationship, but since there are no bruises, the idea that they are being abused isn't on their radar.  There may be this feeling in the pit of their gut that it's not a healthy relationship, but he hasn't thrown them against the wall, so it can't be all that bad, right?  Not exactly. 


This is a dangerous topic to write about, but maybe it's one we should be writing more about.  Being controlled is abuse.  Being separated from friends and family is abuse.  Being told who you can talk to and who you can't is abuse.  Having to walk on eggshells is abuse.  Being afraid to talk because it might cause a rage is abuse.  Being called names, talked down to, told you're not worth anything, or that you should just be thankful to be with him because no one else would want you...is abuse.  There are so many ways one person can abuse another without leaving bruises, and none of them are healthy. 


Ladies, a black eye is a definite sign of abuse...but you don't have to have bruises on your body to be a victim of abuse.  If you've read this and thought, "Holy hell...that sounds familiar," talk to someone.  I promise you this, the people in your life who love you have already noticed, and are probably afraid to say anything to you about it.  They might not know what to say.  They probably don't want to upset you anymore than you are already.  But, I promise you...if they don't know for sure, they're at least suspicious, and their heart is breaking for you.  They're just waiting for you to say something so they can help you find your way to healing, happiness, and peace. 


If you're in an abusive relationship, and you want out, you will need their support.  It doesn't mean that you have to spill your guts and tell them everything, but when someone, who you know loves you, asks, "Are you ok?" be straight with them.  You may not be ready to right now, but pray over it, and in time you will have the strength and the courage to say, "No, I'm really not ok.  I need some help." 


One more thing...it's not your fault. You may have been told that it is, and that the only problems in your relationship are ones you've caused, but it's not your fault.  You may have been told that if you wouldn't make him mad, there wouldn't be any problems at all...but it's not your fault.  You wanted to be loved, and he said all of the right things.  There was no way of knowing the monster that was lurking just below the surface. 


Call a friend, your pastor, or a domestic abuse hotline.  Be shrewd, but be courageous.  If you are able, put together an escape plan.  Find a trained counselor who can walk with you as you make your plans to get out.  There are multiple resources that you can use to get away from an abusive relationship, and do it safely.  Find a good therapist who can help rebuild the person you were before you were beaten down emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.  Know you're not alone and that healing is waiting.  My prayers are with you.


To those who may know someone in this situation, be patient with her.  Now is not the time to raise your voice to her, or to tell her how stupid it is to stay in the relationship, or to try to force her to get out.  She's not okay right now.  She probably knows that it's not a healthy relationship, but is afraid to make a move.  Be gentle, but don't give up on her.  Remind her, as often as you can, of her sacred worth.  When she's ready, and when the time is right, she'll make her escape.  If you've handled your end right, you may be one of the ones who can help her do it.       


Here is a number you can call to begin finding your way back to healing.  1-800-799-SAFE
If you are in immediate danger, you can also call 911.

How Adam Hamilton Just Messed Me Up...

Ok, let me start by saying I'm a fan.  I have several of Pastor Adam's books in my office.  I've been to COR three times for the leadership institute.  Today, actually just a few minutes ago, Pastor Adam messed me up.  I mean shook me to my core.  No, no...it's a good thing.

My Myers/Briggs starts out putting me at 90% introverted.  I don't think I used to be as bad as I am now.  Actually, I think it's gotten worse just in the last couple years.  I don't know if it's my career, the way the church is growing, or if I'm just getting older.

I knew, coming to COR this week, that there was going to be a huge crowd, and I wasn't disappointed.  I'm guessing a couple thousand folks are here this week.  Traffic has been insane.  Lunch is crowded...but I expected all of that, so it's ok.  I was prepared.

We broke just a little while ago for lunch and the folks at COR had set up several huge tents in between the buildings to feed everybody.  The lines were fairly long.  The tables were all set up under the tents.  Folks were crowding around the box lunch tables.  It was a hungry introvert's nightmare.  I grabbed my box and looked for a spot in the grass...in the sun...by myself so that I could eat without having a panic attack.

Here's where I got messed up...

I'm sitting there in the sun, enjoying this beautiful first day of October (It really is gorgeous outside), eating my lunch, and just people watching.  I'm watching the crowd and think, "Oh hey, there's Adam Hamilton."  He was walking around talking to folks, shaking hands, posing for selfies, and smiling.  I knew that folks called him an introvert, but here he was, shaking hands with folks (and not even using hand sanitizer).  He leads a church that worships 11,000 a weekend.  He travels all over the world teaching and preaching.  I had heard he was introverted, but he looked like he was actually enjoying what he was doing.

So I watch.  Then I watch some more.  Then I find some of our group and tell them what I had been watching, and I pointed to Adam and told them, "Look at him.  He is just walking around, shaking hands, talking to folks, and posing for selfies!"  One of them said, "You should email him.  I did and he responded within 15 mins."  To which I replied, "Nope, I'm going to go talk to him."

So I did.

I walked up to him and said, "Adam, I'm Jamie.  I have one question...How do you do it?  I heard you were an introvert.  How do you do it?  11,000 a weekend and I've been watching you while I sat by myself and ate my lunch.  You're shaking hands, taking pictures with folks, and smiling.  How do you pull it off?"

Then he messed me up.  He said, "I'm not really an introvert.  I used to be.  But I pushed through it and now I actually enjoy it."  We talked for a few minutes and as he walked away I said, "If he can do it, so can I."

I was perfectly comfortable the way I was.  Perfectly comfortable by myself.  But...God didn't call me to be by myself.  I'm a church leader, for crying out loud.  I was kicked back against the wall, in the sun, watching all of those people crowd into those tents and thinking, "Thank God I'm not in there."  But...if being in a crowd shuts me down, how can I lead a church?  I was not expecting this as I drove to KC.

It won't be an overnight change, but 5 minutes with Pastor Adam today messed up everything that I thought kept me comfortable.  Funny how that works, huh?

So...today, actually in the last hour, I guess I begin a new journey.  Honestly, it scares the hell out of me.  But if he can do it, so can I.

I Think...Therefore, I Am...

So...this morning I was reading my devotional texts for the day.  Great intro, Jamie, this should be interesting. 

The texts were Ezekiel 38-39, Psalm 145, and Revelation 20.  Ezekiel wears me out.  I love the Psalms because they are actually quite calming.  Revelation...well, I despise Revelation because it has been used for the sole purpose of scaring the hell out of folks.  And it is Revelation, not Revelations...and it is Psalm when you're talking about one and Psalms when you're talking about the whole book.  That was a little bible trivia just for fun. 

But...this morning, reading the three together, something hit me.  Ezekiel loves to talk about folks getting wiped out.  I don't know if he just had a burr in his britches or if God really was that ticked off.  Revelation is more of the same.  It's all monsters and fire and death, except for a few chapters.  But the Psalm for this morning said this; "The LORD is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.  The LORD is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made.  (Psalm 145:8-9)  Then it goes on to say this; "The LORD is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made.  the LORD upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down." (Psalm 145:13b-14)

What hit me was a question..."Well, which is it?  Is God focused more on wiping folks out and scaring the hell out of them?  Or is God truly a God of compassion and love for those who he created and One who lifts up all who are bowed down?" 

Then I started thinking about all that has been going on lately. 

Then I started thinking about the church in the midst of all that's been going on lately. (Since I'm a church leader, that's what I do.)

Then I started thinking about some conversations I've had this week...and posts from other church folk in my Facebook news feed... and comments on posts... and pictures with little captions... and videos people have posted... and comments on the videos... and opinions... and about how folks say the church is in decline... and about how some have even said that Christianity is dead... and...and...and... and I have come to the conclusion that the only one to blame for any real or perceived decline in church attendance is the church. 

We can talk about consumer Christianity all we want, and that folks only come to see what they can get out of it.  There may be some truth in that.  We can talk about how the world is just going to hell and can blame any group we want to blame because they don't agree with us.  We can blame it on a supreme court decision.  We can blame it on the president if we want.  We can say that it's because of racism, or sexuality, or immigration, or Islam, or whatever.  But it hit me this morning that it's nobody's fault but our own. 

We (the Church, and I'm including myself) have become so focused on beating down the ones who won't agree with our sometimes narrow minded, fundamentalist view of scripture, that we may have become unable to see that God is also a God of Psalm 145...a God of compassion...a God who lifts up those who are bowed down...a God who loves all of creation.  Once we become blinded to that part of who God is, can we even see anything but hate?  I'm starting to wonder.  But it doesn't have to be that way.

I think, therefore I am.  What if we started thinking about ways to love the ones we're so quick to condemn?  What if we realized it actually has very little to do with supreme court decisions, county clerks, or protests, and did some deep reflection on how we see the other?  What if we were intentional about showing compassion even when they don't agree with us?  What if we focused more on the type of radical hospitality Jesus showed and less on the specks in our neighbors' eyes? 

Here's what I think would happen...if the church actually started doing that instead of beating down those with whom we disagree, you'd have to sit on the front row during worship, if you got a seat at all. 

So...instead of condemning this person or that person straight to the fires of hell because they're not me...I think I am going to look for ways to live out Psalm 145 as a leader and as a member of the church universal.  Who knows the difference it could make?
   

Strangers to you...

So...that still small voice wouldn't hush this week because I must confess that in the busy-ness of life, putting out fires in the office, and just day to day church stuff, I had let my morning devotionals go. 

This morning I decided that I needed to spend some time, alone, in the quiet before folks start coming in, reading and writing.  I pulled my Life Journal off the shelf and looked up the readings for today.  They were Jeremiah 50 & 51, and 3 John. 

Jeremiah was just being Jeremiah.  He's not the most optimistic of the prophets, and today was more "'I'm going to wipe you out,' sayeth the Lord."  3 John, though, well that was different.

John is writing to Gaius.  Which Gaius, we don't know, but evidently he was a leader in one of the churches.  3 John 1:5 says this: "Dear friend, you are faithful in what you are doing for the brothers, even though they are strangers to you."

That was a 2X4 to the face this morning.  Here's why...

For the last two weeks, the messages I've brought to the folks who are Grace Church have been about how we are all misfits in one way or another and that we are called to welcome any who have been made to feel like misfits.  This coming Sunday, the message is about...wait for it..."Strangers like me."  Here's why that's big...this series was planned out almost six months ago, and today I read John commending Gaius for the way he has been treating the "brothers" even though they are strangers.

Here's why that's like a 2X4 to the face.  I blew it this week.

I had the opportunity to do that...and I blew it. 

See, as a pastor, my phone gets blown up all day long.  Sometimes folks just have a question...sometimes they just need to talk.  Sometimes folks need some advice...sometimes they need something else.  Sometimes it's folks I know...sometimes it's not.  I really don't mind.  When it's someone I know, I have to confess that I'm a little more willing to help, because I get calls all of the time from folks just looking for a handout from the church and have never darkened the door...not once.  This week has been more of the latter. 

I even made the comment to one of my leadership team members; "If I knew him it would be a different story, but I've never met him before."  I could blame it on stress, because it was a stressful week.  I could say I was just tired.  I could say it was because I didn't get my workout in that morning.  Or...I could just admit that because I didn't know him, I automatically assumed that all he wanted was money, or whatever.  The bottom line is...I was not a friend to the stranger. 

Maybe I'm looking for some way to justify my actions, I don't know.  Maybe I'm looking for forgiveness, I don't know.  Maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that it really wasn't my fault. 

But...

...but I blew it.  Pure and simple.

So, John, you got me this morning.  I'll work on being more patient.  I'll be more intentional about not making snap judgments.  I'll try a little harder to actually listen to those who are strangers to me.  I'm going to screw it up again because I know me, but in recovery circles, the first step to healing is admitting there's a problem.  So there it is.