Runaway Dork!

Dateline – 1971. I am 14 years old, and I’m changing my clothes for gym class. As I put my bell bottoms and tie die shirt in my locker and head for P.E, I remember thinking, “I’m not good at this. Do people think I’m a dork? Do I look like a dork?”

Not much has changed in 34 years.

I’m at the gym this morning, using a treadmill. Treadmills are these satanic instruments designed for ultimate humiliation. These evil machines do have some cool features. It has a stop, and start button. It has these numbers that flash and give you all sorts of useful information, like how many calories you have used, how many calories you are burning per minutes, how far you’ve gone, and how long you’ve been walking. It also has a number I have no idea what it is. I’m suspecting it’s my time of death.

The number I normally focus on is the distance traveled. When I started back to the gym a few weeks ago, my goal was to walk a mile before Angie graduated from high school. Over days of workout wonders, I can now do it in around 20 minutes. I’m sure that’s an Olympic record somewhere.

The number I focused on this morning was 3.3. It’s the speed that you are walking. You can dial the speed from 0, which I’m most comfortable, to some high number I don’t want to think about. I don’t want my obituary to read, “death by treadmill.” I’ve been doing 3.3 for a few days now. I’m guessing it’s over three miles an hour. I was pretty proud of myself until this morning.

Monday, May 22nd, must be National Treadmill Day, because all the treadmills were being used this morning. Normally I’m by myself. But this morning, we had a treadmill club going. So I stepped on. I pushed on and set the speed knob at 2.0; you know to warm up the old whatever muscles. The treadmills are side by side in a straight line, facing a few TV’s suspended from the ceiling. As I’m sweating to Katie Couric’s final days on the Today Show, I pushed my treadmill to 3.3. I couldn’t see Katie because sweat was blurring my vision. I couldn’t hear her charming commentary because of my gasping breaths. But I felt great. I was in a zone, so I did the unthinkable. I boosted my treadmill to 3.5! The wind was rushing by my head. Life was good. In fact, I was doing great until I glanced to my right and my left. The people around me were going at 4.6!

Did I mention they were women? One was casually talking on a cell phone. The other was listening to her I-pod. As I scanned the horizon, everyone was going faster than me! I was the dead weight in a power puff treadmill party! Instantly, I was 14 years old, and dork-like feelings rushed over me.

You know the feeling. People can do things better than I can do them. There are folks who are smarter, better looking, have more stuff, etc., etc., etc. When I find myself on this pity party treadmill, Christ pushes the STOP button, and reminds me that I am an adopted son (Ephesians 1) and an heir to the Kingdom (Ephesians 3). God loves me.

Even when I’m a dork!

Grand Theft Elder

In today’s world, church elders and pastoral staff need to have solid qualities to help the church face this changing culture. These qualities include:

Maturity in the Lord
Love for the scriptures
The ability to use a Slim Jim

Okay, so the last quality is not found in the New Testament. It did come in handy on our return trip from Idaho a couple of weeks ago.

Six of us, Allen, Dorys, Andy, Ryan and Sara and I were in my van, and we were caravanning with Dan and Vicki who were in Dan’s truck. We stopped at a rest stop in Boardman to stretch our legs. Dan was sitting in his truck, driver’s door open, reading a map. He and I were talking about the distance to home, where to stop for dinner, etc. As I leaned on his door handle I heard a loud click. I didn’t think too much about it at the time.

Automatic door locks can be a useful thing. Truck manu-facturers didn’t factor in silly preachers whose elbows are not where they should be. Vicki was not in the van and Dan had shut the door and the preacher locked it. His keys and wallet were in the truck.

Houston, we have a problem!

I learned a lot about Allen White on this trip. I already knew he was gifted in bus ministry and children’s ministry. He is a talented trumpet player. On this trip, I learned he has a love for books. I also learned he loves a challenge, especially mechanical. He is a great problem solver.

I’ m not as much a problem solver as I am a problem whiner. My motto is, “when the going gets tough, the tough moan and complain.” But this was an emergency, so I summoned all my mechanical ability and called AAA. Actually, Dan called AAA and I was standing by ready to help if needed. (Don’t ask how many people does it take to make a phone call?)

Meanwhile, Allen had recruited Andy, our associate pastor, and sped to work. They needed something long and thin to squeeze between the door and the truck and push the unlock button. I’m long and fat, so I wouldn’t work. Allen surgically removed the antenna on my van. Andy jumped on the trucks running board, grabbed the door, and pulled it toward him while Allen worked the antenna. While MacGyver and Rambo were breaking into the truck, Dan was still talking to AAA while I supervised. We all prayed that an elder and our associate pastor were as good at criminal mischief as they are as spiritual leaders.

They were. Allen and Andy (AA) got the door open just as AAA told us someone would be there in two hours to help us.


And if the preacher locks your keys in your car, call AA!