XLV

Today is Super Bowl Sunday. Each moment, from the first glorious kick-off, to the shallow inhale of America and simultaneous loss of interest in Frito-Lay chips in hand, I understand that I lose man-points exponentially. While each one whispers an erogenous "all right," wiggles deeper into the couch, and resumes consuming said Frito-Lay products, I do not. In fact, I am not even interested in the million dollar commercials. I know that as I write this, without any fault to you, each ensuing syllable minimizes my manliness.

So anyway, this afternoon at church, the take-down team seemingly downed a few Red Bulls and maximized our efficiency, allowing everyone to leave early. It was intense. It was so intense that prior to the end of service, I could sense the tension building as Pastor Earl went eight minutes over the program. Eight whole minutes. It was crazy. So, I drove home. It was raining and I thought about the homework I needed to do - happily, as I anticipated Starbucks to be empty, everyone at some kind of Super Bowl party. This made me really happy, actually. I got home and was suddenly inspired to go to the pool. See, I've been exercising, running two miles a day and what not, but my right knee has been getting a bit sore. An unexplainable sore - not excruciating, yet not dull and ignorable. I remember hearing about how running, especially everyday, can do long-term damage to one's joints. I've also heard that swimming is great for cardio, so I - Okay sorry, all of Starbucks (mostly consisting of women, at the moment) just yelled "Green Bay!!!" and begun to cheer - I guess the Packers won. Anyway, so I have been getting into swimming. I feel self-conscious though, because I'm not experienced and I don't know if I have my form down. And you know me, my self-preserving nature and all. I don't want to be that splashing fool at the local pool. Home-boy, home-boy. 

So I went. It was raining, which would normally be a downer, yet this recreation center has a jacuzzi, and that was secretly 74%  of why I wanted to go in the first place. I did some laps. My Dad has this flotation device that goes in-between a swimmer's thighs to keep the lower half of the body afloat, allowing a more strenuous arm/shoulder work out. I did that. After a while, I ended up in the jacuzzi. It was still raining, so beautiful from the steam rising and light drops falling. There was an older woman in the jacuzzi, later I found out her name is June. She works at Hawaii National Bank, and has worked there, in the HR department, for about twenty-three years. She told me about how hard it is to let people go, and that the new owner, which is the great-grandson of the first owner, is in his thirties and single. She's polite, so she didn't tell me, verbally, that he's not so much of a winner. We ended up talking about my schooling and future calling as a pastor. She seemed genuinely pleased, which surprised me. It was great talking with June in the jacuzzi today because I felt that I was making friends with a stranger. I don't often do this, to my recent understanding and displeasure. Do you? When someone is new to church, my school, or a friend of a friend, maybe, but ever just a complete stranger? As I was talking to her, I felt that I missed doing this, though I'm not sure I ever really did. 

I have been reflecting a lot on relational evangelism lately. That perfect balance between sharing the gospel with my lips and my actions, my smile and my sermon. I would think that Jesus wants me to make friends with strangers, to help my barista with their tasks like clearing off a table, or stacking chairs, but then a part of me feels that I'm doing those things to trick people into thinking I'm nice, to then slide in a message about Jesus. "This is why I am so awesome: Jesus." I feel like pedophiles do that, predators. I wondered if maybe it wasn't so bad to do that, and if I'm being too critical of my actions. I also wondered if it was possible to experience God's love in such a way where those kinds of actions would flow from me sincerely, without even thinking about emotional manipulation, or luring heathens in with my candy, or the milkshake from my yard. 

Today, with June, I didn't tell her about Jesus or even offer to pray for her. And I think it's okay that I didn't. Instead, our conversation flowed naturally, and it was real. I think she sensed my genuine desire to know about her, which caused her continue to talk to me. And maybe as I seek Jesus, to be near Him, I would have more of these conversations with jacuzzi Junes. Maybe, the lifeguard would notice something different in me, the same with my barista, and as I am in communion with God, I would hear Him; I would hear His whisper and be moved by His love for my lifeguard, barista, and for June. I would open my mouth and tell them of what Christ has done for them. And with the words coming out of my mouth, the recollection of relentless acts of love and service would come to mind, preaching their own sermon and piercing their own hearts.    

Although these resolutions are ever so fleeting, at least for today I am done. And if it is only for a day, and if I need to continue to remind myself of the purpose which remains not only in striving to be a "good pastor" but a lover of people and a befriend-er of jacuzzi Junes, then so be it.   

On this Super Bowl Sunday, I sit here in this Starbucks. I sit here thinking that I am possibly all done proving myself to be America's definition of a man. I am sitting here, thinking that my often perverse desire to be a physically fit, socially-aware, theologically-smart, GQ hottie can be and is swallowed up in the knowledge of Jesus Christ. And that by submitting myself to Him, I, too, can overcome the materialistic, consumer-driven, self-worshipping curse that plagues my culture.  

And on this Super Bowl Sunday, I feel like, for the first time in a while, I won.