Technically in colour

Brutally aged polaroid film produces wonderful mementos for a toddler.

Blech

Enjoy your turkey.

Hyperbolic brushes

As I began my season of facilitating the youth ministries of a particular church, I felt as though I was stepping into a good-looking pair of shoes, tidy yet rugged, perhaps like a lived-in pair of white cross-trainers. The shoes which seemed to fit me best, however, tended to be of the more haggard, less rugged ilk. A pair of Chucks appearing to have lost a battle with an angry bear before being plowed by an eighteen-wheeler have always fit me quite snug with plenty of wiggle room in the toes. Anyhow, I was familiar with the young man whose place I would be taking in the role of Youth Ministry Equipper. After all, it was he who was chosen when I had first applied for the position only a year earlier. That's right, I was called up to replace the guy who was picked first for the team as he was being called up to the bigs. I'm actually painting the situation with an obviously ridiculous brush. This is certainly not how I saw it then nor do I see it that way today. Hyperbole is fun.

Abyss in motion

Thinkin' 'bout writin'

Writin' 'bout thinkin'

Just another tonto

We are at the threshold of a new season. It was four years ago at a youth ministry convention that my wife and I began having serious discussions regarding our future involvement in the church we'd been a part of for the past several years. For over three years, I had been paid to fulfill the role of Youth Ministry Equipper which was the title given to my position. However, as I will soon reveal, there were problems with that particular title. Actually, the problems did not lie within the title so much as they did within the expectations of a stubborn child known as the church. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

After a few years of working menial jobs, I came into the role of Youth Ministry Equipper as a wide-eyed hopeful who was ecstatic about finally being paid to do something which I was incredibly passionate about. The title "Equipper" was co-opted from the Apostle Paul's letter to the Ephesians which reads, "He gave some as apostles, and some as prophets, and some as evangelists, and some as pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ" (Ephesians 4:11-12 NASB). Even back then, all wet behind the ears, the title seemed to align with my own early drafts of a philosophy of ministry. The fact that this particular church seemed to buy into the idea that one flawed human should not bear the entire load of God's call to his people was refreshing. I mean it's one thing for a church to say it, but to actually believe in it enough to say, "this is the title we're giving to the folks on our staff because we want everyone to know that there are no Lone Rangers in church ministry!" That's right, we're all a bunch of Tontos.

Where do we go from here?

For weeks we have been waiting. I’ve got to be perfectly honest, i’m not so good at waiting. Take it on faith. take it to the heart. The waiting is the hardest part.

Don't look at me like that tom.

I suppose the waiting wouldn’t be nearly as difficult if i didn’t feel as though we were just being plain ignored.

Things will be just as they are to be…

Until then, they’ll be as they are.

Better late than dead

So, we returned from our weeklong residence along the gulf coast in fifteen and a half hours. Most of that was in the driving rain with low visibility. But by golly we made it. We slept in and the next afternoon being all hallows eve we began sticking sharp objects into large gourds.

Behold the damage done!

Then what happened was that we drilled holes in pumpkins and ate their roasted seeds right in front of them while listening to tom wait's 'bone machine'.

These things happened next...

The end.