The intersection of life, work, Jesus and double-seating

New Blog

2011-01-10T15:34:00.003-06:00

Hello Faithful Reader-

Thank you for hanging with me for the past couple of years, it's been a blast chronicling my experiences as a waiter and I have had a great time interacting with the likes of you.

I have decided to focus on the current landscape of Christianity and the future of the church under what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called "religionless Christianity" at my new blog:

http://therevcasey.wordpress.com

Thanks and don't be a stranger!

In Christ,

Casey

Old Folks, Misery, and Joy

2010-12-16T10:20:00.002-06:00

One of the funny privileges of working in a restaurant is seeing the regulars. Over the years, I have moved from waiting on exclusively strangers to once in a while waiting on people who have moved closer to the category of friend, even if our relationship will never make that jump.

I have found that most of my favorite regulars are over the age of 60. I think at some point in our lives we all decide whether or not we will be pleasant people. We decide if we respect others. We decide if we take ourselves seriously. We decide if we will fight every battle, every day. We can all hide our decision when we are young, whether it is social pressure, a desire to impress a woman, or inexperience in dealing fully with our emotions. Because we can tolerate a young man's cynicism for only so long and chock it up to fear but who can stand an old cynic? As the case may be, when we get old, we start to settle into who we have become over the years.

And a lot of people, if the truth be told, are really miserable. Maybe they have decided the technological revolution has been too slow to create a robot-waiter or they have not had their lust for control satisfied to the fullest extent but either way, an alarming amount of people are, at their basic make-up, miserable.

Who wants to grow old if that is how we will end?

But the older folks I waited on last night were different. This was probably the 5th or 6th time I have served them and it has always been a pleasure. The old women have hilariously quick wits along with genuinely sweet personalities. The old men may not ever recognize me but they are always polite and expect nothing from me but another drink when they are running dry.

In a world of whiners, back-biters, complainers, and critics, dealing with a happy, thankful people is a cold drink in the desert.

Come to think of it, maybe that's what Paul meant in Philippians when he told the people of God to stop whining and start thanking God for what he has given us. Is there any better place to see this than in the person of Jesus? He came among us and suffered, even died, without complaint. In fact, he did it because he knew that there was great joy to be gained in what he was doing.

The choice lies before us as to what people we will be today. Yesterday is passed and tomorrow is out of our hands.

Will you choose misery or joy?

God, the Pro-Me

2010-12-08T15:52:00.004-06:00

God is for you.

Let that sink in for a minute. God, the one who set the earth spinning and keeps it spinning so perfectly it would make a Globetrotter jealous, is for you. He is on your side.

How do we know this is true?

It is what we celebrate at this time every year. God has made himself man on our accounts. He has affirmed the fact that there is something in us that is well-worth holding on to. He has not given up on the sons of Adam who continually turn their backs on him. He has spoken in the midst of our chaos. His message is better than we could ever imagine.

How much would your life change if you believed that God was for you? Would you be so afraid of impending circumstances, whether it be a mountain of debt, an insatiable appetite for your own destruction, a wayward child, an awkward time in life, or even an ever-closer prison sentence?

In the midst of all our chaos, God speaks in Christ. He is for us.

What would happen to your life and the lives of those around you if you believed this?

The return of the lobsterman

2010-12-06T16:15:00.003-06:00

A year or so ago, I posted a story about a crazy guest I waited on. Well, he was back in to the restaurant today so I was feeling nostalgic. Here's a story that may pep you up on what is a freezing Monday here in Birmingham.

Enjoy:

Lobster, Anybody?

So Many Social Engagements, So Little Time...

2010-12-05T13:19:00.003-06:00

I have to be honest, I cannot remember the last time I looked forward to a true social engagement, party, or "get together". I love to hang out with friends, agenda-less and free. I will almost always consent to seeing live music, assuming the headliner is not a whiny teenager/young adult/midlife-crisis survivor. Sporting event? Yes. Family time? Absolutely.

But anything that will include a bunch of people I have never met, to talk about who's who in the world of ballet or TMZ sounds as appealing as drinking tomato juice. The beauty of my current station in life is that invitations to such gatherings are few and far-between.

This morning I was reading an article in the newspaper about the grand-daughter of a certain man I believe I have written on before. To sum up her social position, this grand daughter, in her early 30's could buy and sell the city of Birmingham as easy as I could buy another cup of coffee. The term in the South is "Old money".

Well, apparently, as the article explained, the woman is now involved in tossing social gatherings, cocktail parties, and other events which make my soul cringe at the mere mention.

In the article, she was giving advice to people like me, who for one unfortunate reason or another have been conned into attending galas, receptions, what have you. How do you thrive in such a formal, awful setting?

One particular piece of advice caught my attention.

Do not bring up topics such as religion, politics, or money- nobody wants to talk about these. You should read the newspaper and bring up important things like headline news and celebrity gossip.

I wish I was making it up, but I am not. And apparently that's why I never get invited, thank God.

The Comforting and Terrifying Truth

2010-12-01T14:27:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, I had a couple of minutes at work to sit by myself and reflect on a few things. I have been praying through the psalms for the last year or so and I have been lingering in Psalm 119 for a couple of weeks. There is really so much there to think about, to be challenged with, and to be changed by in that poem.

What hit me yesterday as I looked out over a restaurant recovering from a busy lunch and becoming ready for an eventful night was the 105th verse, "Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light to my path."

The beautiful thing about the psalms is that there seems to be a different angle to each and every word depending on where you are at in life. When we read thoughtfully and prayerfully, we see that there is so much more than information to be gained from reading our bibles. If we listen, we understand that God says something nuanced specifically toward our situation each day in the psalms.

We live in a world of seemingly endless possibilities. What career path will we choose? Who will we marry? When will we have kids? What will we do to support these kids? Where will we live? What 401k plan will we invest in? Where will we have Christmas dinner this year? Ham or Turkey? What restaurant will we eat at tonight? What tv show will we watch when we get home? What color socks will we wear?

The possibilities sometimes move from an exciting array of potentialities to a terrifying matrix of irreversible and endless decisions.

Here is where that simple verse in the psalm can give us great comfort. God has a path for our lives. There are specific steps to each of our daily grinds that he has set forth since he even set the earth on its axis. This path may well include hard times. This path will definitely include our missteps. This path will definitely include pain.

But the more we get to know God, the more comforting it is that he has set forth a path for us. We start to realize that his plans are good for us. We begin to see that he is in our corner, that he is on our side.

As terrifying as the steps may be, we can start to rest in the fact that a good God has called them into existence.

But we will walk in the darkness until we crack open the bible for more than just an information download. We need to hear from this Creator. We need a word from the one who calls all the shots. We need to learn how to express our frustration, anger, joy, contempt, thanksgiving and hard-won belief toward this God. This only comes when we start to really care about what he has to say to us on a day by day basis.

He has promised us that he will show us not possibilities but the realities about our lives. He himself will be the lamp that exposes our steps, bringing us from stumbling in the darkness to walking in freedom.

Is it a comforting thing that God orders your steps? Why or why not?

Delia, the Loving Hound

2010-11-23T16:17:00.004-06:00

When Delia was a puppy, I had to constantly scold her. "No, we do not chew on Casey's remote control." "No, we do not pee on Casey's carpet." "No, we do not jump up on Casey's bed." "No, we do not rip Casey's couch to shreds and make him throw it away in the dumpster." The first six or nine months I had her was characterized by a constant back-and-forth of encouragement and discipline.

I felt like I was constantly laying down the law, bringing the swift hand of justice over and over again.

If you have been around animals enough, you know that you can really read them if you look at their eyes. You can see the difference of ignorance and rebellion. She had so much ignorance in her eyes. Once, I scolded her for using my kitchen as her personal latrine and I could see that she was flat-out shocked that her course of action would upset me. The look of fear in her eyes, along with her shivering in shame convinced me that I had been a bit harsh in my discipline. She just did not know the right thing to do yet. Part of her problem was that she had no real understanding of how to live life yet. She was young and she was learning.

But another part, the part that was so frustrating, was that she would blatantly push the envelope. She was off the leash, looking back as I called her, and I could see her decide to disobey me. Delia had it in her little dog mind that my plans were not all they were cracked up to be. She doubted my goodness as a master. My plans could not be trusted and my commandments simply were not applicable to her life.

I could tell that even when she obeyed it was because she feared the consequences of disobedience.

But then something happened in her. She broke. After months of discipline, protection, provision, and care she decided that I was on her side. She moved past the place of dreading consequences or dismissing my words.

I could be wrong but I think she actually wants to obey me now simply because she knows she is mine. She obeys me naturally because she loves me and that is it. My plans are not up for scrutiny, for judgment, for evaluation. My plans are what she accepts as the best of all possible scenarios for her, whether that means she gets a treat, a walk, or a few hours of solitude while I am out waiting tables.

That does not mean she obeys me perfectly, because she certainly has her days. What it does mean is that she wants to listen to me. She loves me and that alone makes my word worth heeding.

But she had to be broke first.

Are you claiming ignorance? Do you just plain old want to fight God? Or are you broke? The answer just may lie in your motivation. Why do you care what God says about your life?

Fifth-Grade Experience

2010-11-20T10:08:00.003-06:00

I went up to the bar yesterday to grab a drink or two for my people and that profound, world-shaping show happened to air at that exact time. I am sure you already know that I am talking about "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth-Grader?" For those who have not experienced this dynamic scenario, the host is Jeff Foxworthy, yes the redneck joke guy. Every week they feature a ridiculously smart fifth-grader (or at least one who, unlike me, has been paying attention in class, not thinking about baseball during history.

The fifth-grader is matched up against a seemingly reasonable adult and assaulted with a barrage of trivial questions which, really, everybody should know. Of course, the adult constantly has trouble with such simple questions as "Who was the longest serving supreme court justice (from 1801-1835)". When the adult forgets that John Marshall was the correct answer, usually the fifth-grader jumps in with a healthy dose of knowledge.

And it struck me on the way home last night that this is a pretty good picture of the Christian life, recovery, and discipleship. Here you have a kid who has a lot of knowledge that is completely and utterly unhindered by experience. In case it gets lost in the shuffle, a fifth-grade kid has absolutely no idea how to live in the real world. If you have any objections, see the brilliant Tom Hanks Classic "Big".

So it is strange when a new guy comes into our community of recovering addicts and disciples of Jesus because they always seem to know the right answers. It is uncanny. It is also unhelpful.

Because if you need to know a state capital, you should ask your kid, but if you need to know how to live your life, it may be a good idea to ask your dad. Life is so much more than knowing a ton of disconnected facts or having a bunch of good ideas.

Maybe the better title to the show would be "Nobody is interested in the advice of somebody who has yet to live". That may be a bit harsh. Or is it?

Ill-Advised Handshakes and Social Contract Breaks

2010-11-18T13:49:00.003-06:00

Sometimes living life with next to no rules can get you into trouble. Now, don't get me wrong, there is no way I would give up my sanity to have a set of standards by which I live my life, but still it would be handy sometimes to be more like Jonathan Edwards than St. Francis of Assisi. I mean, really, how many rules can a naked guy who preaches to birds have going through his mind at a single moment?

The proviso to living in complete Christian freedom is that you must be prepared to make a complete and utter moron of yourself from time to time. Trust me, it will happen. Are you craving an example yet? Ask and you shall receive.

So last night I was in a fine mood. This week has started off looking a bit more profitable than the past few at work and I had enjoyed a fantastic day of writing and hanging out with good friends before work. I am beginning to find that these times of relaxed joy and peace are also times that can wreak havoc on the tables I wait on. It is quite simple, when I feel loose, I am liable to say or do just about anything that pops into my head, circumventing any decision-making process involving rules whatsoever.

So when a friendly couple sat down for dinner on their anniversary, I was suddenly inspired to shake hands with the gentleman, extending my well-wishes and greetings. As you may have guessed, this is where having a world dictated by rules would have come in handy. To state a rather obvious rule, it is not good etiquette for a waiter to offer a handshake at the beginning of a meal. But who needs rules when you are free, right?

As I stuck my hand out, I envisioned writing this very story about the dos and don'ts of waiting on tables. I was further convinced of my fau pax when my new friend refused to shake my hand. Now, this is not the first time this has happened, in fact, there are quite a few people in the world who have a standard of when to shake hands and when to refuse handshakes. The rest of us are out of luck.

What made him a bit unique was the fact that he felt the need to verbalize his objection to shaking my hand.

"I am sorry I cannot shake your hand, I just washed mine."

"No problem", I quickly responded, trying desperately to bypass any further interaction in this increasingly awkward situation. I moved on to the specials, recommendations of the day and warmly encouraged them to let me know when they were ready to order. Catastrophe averted.

That is, of course, until the next time I approached the table. The man had a guilty conscience about breaking the unstated social contract, whether or not my handshake was appropriately timed. For a second time he made verbal the fact that he was sorry not to have shaken my hand. For a second time I assured him that there was really no problem. If you feel odd shaking somebody's hand, what is it that compels you to make restitution? Why not refuse the handshake boldly?

I think the real issue in this story centers around freedom and strenuous law-keeping. I was free to extend a handshake with the understanding that I may well have been rejected in my quest. He was free to refuse the handshake with the understanding that the situation may well have turned awkward for a moment.

But there was something insidiously freedom-denying about the felt-need to always explain ourselves. Do you feel the need for explaining your every action, thought, desire, and word? That kind of rule-keeping will wear you out and keep you from living as a free man.

I think I would rather be free to be a complete moron than to be bound to explain my every movement. What about you?

The Devil Speaks

2010-11-10T14:40:00.000-06:00

The devil has been speaking to me lately. He has been whispering lies into my ears. You are not doing a thing with your life. He says this to me as I wake up in the morning, sometimes right after 9 o’clock. So this is what you will do with two degrees in theology? He tells me this as I get dressed and head into work at the restaurant. So this why you spent all that time working on your sermon writing and delivery? He tells me this when I am telling guests about a special fish or drink.

The reason I know this is the devil speaking to me is that these are all lies. Every single one of them and a thousand more. He mocks my decision to move across the country, following the call of God which has me, at present, waiting tables thirty-five to forty hours a week and volunteering in a local ministry.

The devil reminds me of the time when I was 18 and getting my first opportunities to preach, playing baseball, and pretty much living as easy as I will ever have it. He reminds me of my last two years in college when I was teaching regularly, albeit to a small group of students. And the devil tells me that my days waiting tables are abject wastes of my time.

The main problem is that I believe him nine times out of ten.

Satan knows which note to play for me, to lure me out of faith in Christ into the grayish area of unbelief. If he can convince me that the mundane events of my day are meaningless, he can bring me to self-pity. If for a minute I agree with him that my job is inconsequential, he can draw me out of a place where I trust that God has good intentions for my life.

The devil plays the same chords of pride over and over again in the soundtrack of my heart. Maybe he does the same to you, convincing you that the every day mundane activities of your life do not matter. Maybe he has you convinced right now that the minutia of your life is keeping you away from constant contact with, reliance on, and faith in Christ.

Those are lies.

God is so intimately concerned with us that he makes every moment come under his good authority. All of our lives are lived in the presence of God. He is there when you get up early and go to work, whether that will entail nailing shingles on roofs, selling drills, waiting on tables, counseling the hurting, or preparing to preach on Sunday. All of life is lived in the presence of God.

And so he has me where he has wanted me since before he spoke the worlds into existence. He wanted me on November 10, 2010 to be preparing to wait tables for the next 5½ hours. He wanted me to tell others about the daily specials in a way that honors him. He wanted me to reflect his love, compassion, and glory by describing dishes of food and glasses of wine.

If we are really concerned with entrusting our lives over to God on a moment-to-moment basis, we have to be willing to be in the places he calls us. That may seem too simple, but it is not.

God has designed our world with great attention to detail. We need to nail shingles on because somebody needs a roof. And how will the roofer get his tools if there is not a salesman? And how will there be a salesman without a manufacturer? And who will manufacture what is not designed?

And at the end of the day, one of those people is going to need a meal. Every now and again, he is going to need a night to relax, be waited on, and to enjoy some physical fruits of his labor. God has me coming in here, now.

God may very well call me out of this job to what I thought I was preparing for, but you know what, maybe he won’t. And if I am really concerned with his kingdom and not my own, I will accept this gift with a thankful, believing heart.

The devil will continually woo us out of dependence on the will of God whether it be through pride or shame. Let us stay alert, looking at all times for His presence, will, and good pleasure in our daily tasks.

Superman, Cliff Lee, Jesus, and You

2010-10-28T15:52:00.005-05:00

I spent the last week at Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida with my good friends Tal and Jim. I think that was the first technical vacation any of the three of us have had in the past couple of years. Tal works more than anybody has a right to, Jim stays busy, and I have noticed that most of my "vacations" over the years have included times of very fruitful work. These are good things, but it was so nice to have a week of acting like children, riding roller coasters and cracking inane jokes.

Among the swath of rides we tested out several times, The Incredible Hulk, and Spiderman were by far my favorites. I remembered that growing up, I was a fan these superheroes. I also loved that Batman would sup up his suit to even create super-powers out of plain-old American ingenuity. And Superman? What kid can claim to be free of an abiding love for the Caped Crusader?

As if to make the vacation even more fun, my beloved San Francisco Giants were on their way to reaching the World Series for the third time in my life. The real truth is that roller-coasters and super-heroes were all well and good for me growing up but my real super-heroes were baseball players. Let somebody else save Gotham City, I wanted to play shortstop for the Giants, live outside the city, and retire sometime in my 40's.

Baseball players seemed like real supermen, and they always will have some of that place in my mind. But last night reminded me of a very important fact. Men are men. A World Series pitcher is every bit as much a human being, fallible and flawed as the rest of us.

So onto the field stepped the Superman for the Texas Rangers, Cliff Lee, who had won 7 of his first 8 starts in his postseason career. He was unbeatable. His fastball was quicker than a speeding bullet. His curveball could swoop with all the force of an anvil dropped from the sky. He was super-human, right?

Wrong. Cliff Lee proved to be just as human and prone to failure as the man in Center Field behind him, the recovering-addict/Jesus-loving Josh Hamilton. Lee was just as human as his counterpart, the Giants' slight-of-build/marijuana-toting 2-time defending Cy Young Award winning Tim Lincecum. He was human.

It is strange, isn't it, when we see somebody we thought to be "above all this humanity" be really human.

Instead of Superman, the mild-mannered Clark Kent showed up. No Hulk, only the frightened Bruce Banner. No upstanding Batman, just crummy playboy Bruce Wayne. No Spiderman, just nerdy, insecure little Peter Parker.

So much of life is confronting the stark reality that this world is not a place for idealism. We live in a down-to-earth reality and we must deal on the basis of that reality rather than our self-imagined fantasy. Our wide-eyed idealism we once had is either slowly whittled away or comes crashing down on top of us. Sooner or later, we are confronted with the choice to accept reality as it is or to re-construct our own interpretation of the way things are.

This is where the gospel meets us. Christ did not become ideal man, nor did he come to us as one who could outrun a herd of camels, let alone a locomotive. When he overturned the tables in the temple, it didn't look a thing like the Hulk, probably more like a frustrated Bruce Banner.

The fact that Christ became real man is not only something nice for us to remember. This fact should transform the way we see everything. We now see that God has revealed himself as one of us, however much greater he may be intrinsically.

In Christ, not only does God show himself, but man is also revealed for the first time.

Not with any super-powers, just with dependence on God and love for his neighbor. Not conspicuously, but in humble obedience. Not flying, but kneeling. Not conquering, but submitting.

Now we know what it means to be man. We don't strive to be super. We don't seek to be unique. We don't look to be revolutionaries. We humbly seek God's will and live in love toward one another.

The guys playing baseball on television tonight are not ideal human beings. Neither are you. Neither am I. But do you know what the good news is? God is the Father of Christ, Lee, Lincecum, Hamilton, you and I. Even more, Jesus is not afraid to call us brothers. He loves us because he has made us his brothers and sisters. He approves of us based upon his own work and not ours.

He is after the real you. He wants the guy behind the mask, behind the stats, and behind the closed doors.

He lives for men, not supermen. That's good news for guys like us.

Baseball and the Gospel of Jesus

2010-10-16T13:22:00.001-05:00

When I was a kid, my brother Jay, my best friend Jason and I were the cornerstones of our baseball team. I would play shortstop or pitch, Jay would catch, and Jason would play second base. We would play every inning all season, year after year. This created something of a problem because my dad was also the coach of our team. As is the case in many youth sports activities, the charge of nepotism was often muttered in the bleachers by upset mothers, wondering why their sons played only a few innings a game.

I remember once, when I was around fourteen years old, my dad was out of town for the weekend of a little league game. My dad’s friend Rob had been an assistant coach for him since we were a little year or so too old for tee ball, and he had taken over the duties for that Saturday morning.

Now, Rob had been hearing the same complaints from the same parents for all those years. In the interest of keeping the peace, Rob had decided that day to start the game with Jay, Jason, and I on the bench.

Of course, when the three of us saw the lineup, we were understandably puzzled, and asked Rob why we were the odd men out for the first times in our lives. After he leveled with us, treating us with the respect of adults, we all had a good laugh and settled in to watch our friends play ball.

After only a few innings, our second-string lineup had amassed a swath of strike outs and had committed a comedy of errors, putting us into a humungous, seemingly insurmountable hole. All the while, the three of us sat patiently beside, cheering our teammates on, even in their collective weakness.

At the same time, Rob was also watching the mothers in the stands begin to understand their progeny’s lack of playing time.

When he was convinced that his point was across, and with only an inning or two left in the game, our coach made three changes. Jay, Jason, and I resumed our positions and led our team back from our sizable early hole en route to easily winning the game.

Over the years, I would find myself in the bench warming position, so would see the game from the perspective of the “have-nots” of the athletic world. That can be a painful experience. You work, struggle, and wait for the job as a difference-maker, and you do your very best in the spots you are given to play.

It is a difficult thing to come to terms with the fact that your very best just is not good enough. It strips all pride away from you, or at least it would if you were bold enough to face the facts.

This is what God’s law does for us. It is really a good thing, a gift, that God has given us the 10 Commandments, among other direct commands in the bible. Maybe the reason we think the commands are a good thing is a bit skewed. Allow me to demonstrate.

Let's say I went to the courthouse and protested the taking down of the 10 Commandments at City Hall. I am upset that our code for living the Judeo-Christian ethic has been stripped away. How is anybody supposed to live if our city councilmen take away our freedom to live under the law?

Does that make any sense when put that way? Let us say it another way, “We cannot fulfill the law of God in any sense of the word”. It is as if we were that benchwarmer, sitting and wondering why we are not allotted our “God-Given” playing time.
If we ever needed evidence that we are utter failures at obeying God, all we need to do is to enter the game of life. Stop telling fans, your mother, the media, or your coach how good of a job you would do, given the chance to be a really good moral agent, and enter the game of life. If you are bold enough to face the facts, it will not be long before you realize that even the first of the 10 Commandments that you want proudly displayed at every city hall has condemned you.
Or can you honestly say that you have no problem placing other things before God?

No, the law of God was never intended to be a point of dutiful obedience. It would never give us success in right standing before God. It was not designed for this purpose.

The law of God does for us what Rob did for us those many years ago. The gift he gave was to simply let the benchwarmers have a shot at being the mainstays on the team. If they were bold enough to face the facts, they would welcome a change.

The law humbles us into welcoming a change into our lives. And the great news is that there is a change not only possible but provided for in the person of the God-Man Jesus Christ. He alone has completely, fully, and finally lived life in obedience to the revealed law of God.

If we would only let the law of God become a source of humility instead of pride in our lives, we could see the richness of a Christ who has taken care of all the obedience we owed to God in his life. Then he paid for our inabilities to fulfill the law in his death, purchasing new resurrection life, and sitting down at the right hand of the Father in our place!

Does the law of God arm you with pride? Perhaps you should enter the game of life. Does the law of God humble you, proving your insufficiency to please God? Run to the cross. Christ is there, pleading perfection on your behalf.

The game of life has already been won. Will you bemoan missed opportunities or rejoice in the God whose victory is your victory?

God is Still For Us

2010-09-29T14:04:00.002-05:00

This is the third shot I have made at writing a story of virtually no consequence. To save you the details, it was about a coworker whose lack of effort was met by my anger and un-gospel-ish behavior toward him. I was going to tell you about my encounter with James 1:20 this morning. The verse reads "The anger of man does not accomplish the righteousness of God."

If I may be perfectly honest, the story was overly complicated and so dreadfully pointless that I could hardly stomach reading the first installment of it. I realized about half-way through that my words were not so much gospel as venting of frustration. Seriously, who needs to spend time reading about how I was frustrated with a dude that I work with?

I would much rather you read about the gospel than to read pointless ramblings. I would rather you fix your mind on the fact that God became man, lived our lives for us, died our deaths for us, rose to new life to give us real life, sits at the Father's right hand right now and prays for us.

I would rather you find in my writing the only thing that is really important, that is the person and work of Jesus and his current, unchangeable position as God-for-us.

Over the past few weeks, I have had a hard time feeling that these things are true. A good example would have been the now deleted story about my quick temper the other night. But do you know what makes me really happy as I write these words?

That has not changed the truth one bit.

My own struggle to grasp the gospel has not made the gospel any less true. The fact that you and I have a hard time accepting the grace of Christ on a moment-to-moment basis does not change God's attitude toward any of us who are in Christ.

For all the times we have looked inward and wallowed in confusion, despair, emptiness, and disbelief, let us take a look out of ourselves, if only for a brief moment.

God has promised that even these times will work together for our good. God is for us because of Jesus.

To Forgive or Not to Forgive

2010-08-19T11:14:00.007-05:00

I am well-aware, faithful reader, that I have let you down in my recent posts, which have had little-to-nothing to do with the absurdities of waiting on tables. In an attempt to right this grievous wrong, please accept this story as a recompense.

We have an elderly couple who define the word “regulars”. When they walk through the door, we automatically reach for the same bottle of wine and sparkling water without waiting for them to ask. We also cook their bread in a specific manner every time, whether it is a lazy Tuesday evening or a busy Saturday night. On second thought, the word “regular” is a bit weak when used in reference to these old folks.

I have waited on them in easy excess of fifty times over the last four years and I have always at least endured the crotchetiness of the old man with a smile on my face. The fact that he is an old buzzard is offset by the fact that his wife is a regal old Southern woman. Over the years I have learned to run all my communication through her, so as to avoid the misfortune of talking to her husband.

Last Friday, I was finishing my third double in as many days, and my usually paltry patience had been worn down, when I was graced with the old couples’ presence.

Now, I could go on and on about how the old man shooed me away as I was pouring him water, but I will refrain. I could also go on and on, detailing the several times he would change his mind throughout the course of his meal, but I will spare you such details. Likewise, I could go on about the continual verbal dressing-down he was trying to work on me, but I will refrain from this as well. Finally, I will refrain from telling you about the fact that the old man complained to anybody who would listen about the horrible waiter he had waiting on him that night.

What I will tell you about is what the old woman would tell me when he had left the table to bring the car around.

As I said before, I have always thought the old woman was about as sweet as anybody I know, even though she keeps a proper distance in the diner-waiter relationship. That is why what she did Friday night caught me completely off-guard. Do you know what she did?

She apologized.

She told me, in very genuine, simple words, that she was sorry for the way her husband had treated me. She said she was afraid her husband had upset me (which, indeed, he had) and that she was sorry on his behalf.

She even told me that her husband was “not the man he used to be.”

Later that night, quite unbeknownst to me, she would call back into the restaurant and again express her apologies to the management for her husband’s unkind behavior.

And wouldn’t you know that this simple act changed me? She introduced the opportunity of forgiveness into the situation. I was faced, as we often are, with an extremely minute, yet extremely important decision. To forgive or not to forgive?

But that is the question that haunts us on a moment-by-moment basis. Will I forgive the one who has wronged me? This is the place Jesus will meet us for sure. It is only through him that I am able to forgive, and so look like my Father in heaven. It is not only the “big” things in life that need to be forgiven, it goes to every moment of our lives.

And what about myself? What if I am my own enemy? What if my actions have left not only those around me devastated, but even my own heart has turned against me? Who can bring forgiveness to me?

This too, is exactly where Jesus, the God-Man will meet us. If we wait for him.

Hell, Righteousness, and Love

2010-08-07T09:27:00.008-05:00

Why does God threaten us with eternal punishment?

It seems like an extreme move on his part, does it not? An abuse of power, perhaps? Oh, sorry, I forgot to invite you to put aside your Sunday School answers for a minute. Why does God threaten us with hell?

Let us go at this in a way we can understand. As you may or may not know, I love to watch Law and Order. The cops find the bad guy, usually accompanied by a nice sarcastic comment or two, and Sam Waterston seeks justice for the state- for the "people". Sometimes cases are settled only by the judge, harkening back to days of yore, or whatever.

Certainly we can respect a judge for handing down the maximum sentence, right? We may be excited when the career criminal is finally found out and handed a life-sentence. We can respect the judge for putting him away for as long as the letter of the law will allow.

But personally, I would have a hard time loving a judge who hands out the maximum sentence on a regular basis. It seems a bit much to me. Are you with me? Maximum sentences may be just but merciful? Compassionate? Not the first words I would choose to describe such a judge.

What does it say about God that he would punish fully, eternally, and to the letter of the law? Is he still loving if he is willing to be just?

And what does it say about the infraction of the law we must have committed to warrant such a sentence? If God remains God in spite of my rebellion, what is it to him that I get angry waiting tables? He is still God and his will is still going to get accomplished. What is it to him that I hate both God and neighbor?

But is this not the very reason God must punish fully, eternally, and to the letter of the law? We are not jaywalkers but felons. We are not clumsy, we are perpetrators. We are not sick, we are evil. We are not guilty of manslaughter, its first-degree murder. To put it biblically, we are not bystanders, but enemies. Paul told us that we were enemies, hostile in mind towards God.

If you think long and hard, even making a list of the ones you have wronged, you too will agree with Paul.

What is exacting justice? Is it something like "Eye for and eye"? If you are a Christian, remember that Exodus 21:24 may be ugly but it is still in the bible. Even the taking a life may be ethically acceptable depending on the severity of the case.

So what happens when your offense, or standing as an offender, is against an eternal God? If he is boundless, would your offense and therefore your sentence also would be boundless, right? This is the one we have offended, and so goes our sentence. It is bad news but it is no less true.

This can bring us one of three places. First, you can try to make up your sentence on your own. How many hours of community service will it take, for instance, to work off the death penalties accumulated by being angry at your fellow-man? Good luck with that.

The second option is to completely give up. Well, God will never forgive me, so screw him! Why would I want a God who cares if I answer for my actions anyway? Who needs a God that is concerned with what he has made? I hope you see the problem with such a course of action.

The third option is to listen to this God. In Jesus Christ, God offers us a new identity. Instead of "sinner", he offers the identity "saint". In the place of "enemy", God, in Christ, offers us the title "beloved".

This is the new identity Jesus bought for us in becoming a man, living our life for us, dying our death for us, and raising to new life on our behalf.

Did you know that Jesus himself was not ashamed to be made sin for us? He took us from, as Paul said, "the domain of darkness" and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved son. Now we have all the love God has for Jesus applied to us. In Christ, God loves us fully, completely, eternally, and boundlessly.

Did you see that? It was not clever, but if I were you, I would read it again. And again. And again.

God is for us in Christ. He offers us a way out of owning all the guilt, shame, condemnation, and hell we deserve. He does by a simple invitation to life in Christ.

We have all tried to do community service to try and make God happy. It did not work. We have given up at other times and where did that lead us? Today God, in Christ is for us. What he offers not immunity from the law but fulfillment of the law because of Jesus.

As my pastor and friend Tal says "that's a really good day".

I've Been Thinking About Forgiveness

2010-07-30T12:26:00.004-05:00

It really is unfortunate. Every time I hear the word "forgiveness", I think of Don Henley. You know the song, you cannot deny the facts. "I'm trying to get back to the heart of the matter/but my flesh gets weak/and my thoughts seem to scatter/but I think it's about forgiveness, forgiveness/even if even if you don't love me anymore". So now you feel my pain, and for that, you are welcome. Also, now you are thanking me for a month free of new posts. For that you are also welcome.

It is unfortunate that I think of this song when the word comes up because this word is at the heart of the gospel. Jesus loved to talk about forgiveness, right? In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus told us, "If you are at the altar and you remember that your brother has something against you, leave your sacrifice and go be reconciled with your brother." Does this sound like a theoretical principle or a command to you?

The reason I ask the question is that I think we interpret clear commands of Jesus, especially like this one, in a theoretical, abstract way. Yes, in principle it is great to go ahead and seek forgiveness from people. We may not even argue with Jesus when he tells Peter that he should forgive his brother not 7 times but 7 times 70 times! We may be in the background with the other disciples snickering at Peter. What a dope! Forgive only 7 times, what a dumb question! Boy, am I glad I waited till Peter asked that!

But when we read commands like this they roll off our back like water off a duck, or am I alone?

In theory, in principle, in abstraction, as an idea or concept, we have no real problem with forgiveness. It kind of makes us feel Bob Marley-esque. We can now, with a clear conscience, sing along, "Let's get together and feel alright."

Like so many things in life, though, forgiveness only means something as we do it. We do not know what it is to forgive until we actually have the opportunity to forgive.

It is like last night at the restaurant. I was the "closer", which on these slow nights means that you are the guy twiddling your thumbs for the last two hours of business. Well, like the Bob Marley admirer and freedom-fighter I am, I went ahead and let all my support staff leave about and hour and a half early. John Lennon himself may have even been proud.

As anyone can guess, that would be the time I had four tables walk in in succession. I was in good shape, close to the end of my rope but still hanging on, as it were. Then it happened. Three of my tables needed drinks at the time and Amy, our bartender had already mentally clocked out for the night. I started to get uptight but kept my cool for a while.

When she realized my increasingly tense demeanor, she stepped it up and helped me out for the moment. When I realized a couple minutes later that I had ordered one of the drinks wrong, I needed her help again. Again, she was too distracted to help me out.

This time, I circumvented her help and made the drink myself, walking right past Amy on the way to help myself. She could tell that I was frustrated and that she had helped to increase my frustration. It was not the end of the world but I won't lie, it did make me angry. She is one of the best at helping me out when I need it and here she was, leaving me high and dry.

Later on something happened. Amy came to me and said she was sorry. She realized she had not done her job and made mine harder and she had no excuses. The ball was in my court. The choice was simple. Do I extend forgiveness or do I ignore Jesus?

Now, I know myself well enough to know I cannot forgive even the most minor of infractions without the direct help of God, so when I say I extended forgiveness, it is not a reflection on me but on Christ.

Forgiveness became more than a concept, it was a reality. It was more than an idea, it was something that took root in the world. That is what forgiveness does, it places both feet in reality, owns up to wrongs done, hurts caused, and decides, through the help of God, to obey the command of forgiveness.

And when Amy and I see each other tonight, we will be on good terms- not faking peace, but having our friendship strengthened by obeying the command of Christ together.

Admittedly, this is a light and surface example of forgiveness. One more question, though. At what point will it be a good thing to ignore Jesus' words? When a friend betrays us? When a lover leaves us? When a boss fires us? When a father mistreats us?

Now these are hard words, right? But are they any less true?

Reflections on July Fourth

2010-07-03T11:37:00.007-05:00

I love America. My dad's dad served in our military around the time of the Korean War. A few good friends from my childhood are currently still serving in our Armed Forces and one of my best friends in the world is serving as a Captain in the Army National Guard, where he serves to train soldiers. When Sunday rolls around, you can bet that I will listen to Ray Charles' version of America the Beautiful. He was my late grandmother's favorite singer- she served in our military as well.

I have little and declining patience for snarky comments made by those who have never done a thing but write a blog about how unjust the United States' government is in our foreign policy. So I write this blog as one who has never signed up for service. I have only fired a gun under my second amendment rights which have been so long protected by my brave fellow-Americans.

Regardless of your views (or mine) concerning immigration reform, working with several immigrants who have held various prestigious positions in Mexico who have moved their families to America will open your eyes to how specially blessed we are to have our natural citizenship in America. I love America.

Philosophers have long seen a difference between being a patriot and being a nationalist. Our government was not founded on a nationalistic basis, but on a patriotic one. A patriot sees government in its proper place. The government is not an absolute authority but derives its authority from in the design and command of God. This is the type of thing we see in Romans 13. Government derives from God. Our obedience to government is expected so long as that will not conflict with obedience to God himself.

Like so many other things, the question here comes down to worship. Another word for worship is service. Obedience is another closely related term. Who do we worship? Who do we serve? Who are we obedient to?

Another way to put it may be, do you love America for God's sake or do you love America for her own sake? Still another way to put it may be, do you serve God or an idol? One of the truest things the great theologian John Calvin said was that our hearts are idol-factories. There is a fine line between loving your culture for God's sake (patriotism) and loving your culture for its own sake (nationalism). That line seems to blur on days like the 4th of July.

This brings us to the question of the worship of Christ in his church on the 4th of July. Do we sing "Yankee Doodle Dandy" together as the people of God? Do we sing "America the Beautiful" together as the people of God? My answer may be obvious at this point but I will write clearly. I think we are selling our witness as the people of God to the word of God by worshipping something other than God. Does this make sense? I may need help to say this more clearly. Enter my favorite writer, Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

Bonhoeffer preached these words four weeks after Adolf Hitler and the National Socialist party came into power back in 1933:

The church has only one pulpit, and from that pulpit, faith in God will be preached, and no other faith, and no other than
the will of God, however well-intentioned.

Of course, we are not Nazis, we are above trading obedience to Christ for nationalistic loyalty, right? Maybe the Nazis were worse sinners than we are; maybe the complicit church of Germany were different than we are. If you have a way to prove that from the bible, I would like to see it.

The truth is that we are all capable of trading loyalty to Christ for nationalistic zeal baptized in religious language. The good news is that we have a word, an answer as the people of God. We have his word. This is really what makes us unique as the church. We are not a religious organization or a moose club. We are a community that bears the joyful burden of God's revelation of himself to us for our good- for the good of our fellow Americans.

I pray that we, as the church, will use the 4th of July to preach Christ. I pray that we will sing to him with joyful hearts. I pray that we will be moved to not draw away from our country but to love our fellow Americans with Jesus-formed lives.

Then let's watch the fireworks, drink a beer, listen to Ray Charles, thank God for our nation, and pray for the courage to proclaim Christ in our day-to-day lives.

I Don't Mean To Complain, But...

2010-07-01T10:09:00.008-05:00

Has this sentence ever led to anything but a complaint? "I don't mean to complain, but my air conditioner is broken." "I don't mean to complain, but you overcharged me." "I don't mean to complain, but you are a jerk."

This may be a little-known fact, but 83% of all uses of this phrase occur in a restaurant and 99.9% (give or take a tenth of a percent) are immediately followed by a bellyache, complaint, or a sorrow-filled request. See, those are what you call cold-hard facts. Statistics do not lie (even if the guy telling you the statistics is making them up). Allow me to illustrate.

So there I was last night, doing my thing, waiting on tables, when I got seated with my final table of the night, a couple celebrating their anniversary. These are usually some very simple tables. Who in his right mind would jeopardize the benefits of an anniversary evening by becoming whiny and uptight with their waiter? To me the dude who acts rudely in this situation is the doofus among the doofuses. As we all know from personal experience, unfortunately, we sons of Adam rarely do things that make sense, even to ultimately benefit ourselves.

Well, I talked for a minute with the couple and offered a drink. He ordered a drink that I had never heard of, which is becoming rare after four years taking odd drink orders. "No worries", I said, following up with a simple question of the ingredients in his desired concoction. His response? "You will have to look it up on the internet or something". Can you see why we are already becoming best friends?

As you may imagine, his drink was subpar according to his exacting standards. So was his wife's, which was apparently too sour (when two out of three words in a name are "Lemon" and "Drop", it would seem to be a compliment to call something sour). While there was plenty of complaints from our friend, there was nothing he would allow me to do to remedy his problems. This is what we like to call passive-aggressive behavior. Every problem has some sort of solution, we usually would just rather complain than seek a remedy, right?

Anyhow, let us jump ahead to the medium-well ribeyes that were extraordinarily tough. He saved our favorite line for this occasion. "I don't mean to complain, but we come here every month and these are the worst ribeyes we have ever had here." With this said, he chose to eat in protest rather than have the problem remedied(On a side-note, I have worked exactly 44 months at the Steak House all told, and this was the first I have seen of him). In the end, he simply wanted to complain rather than to seek a remedy. Sound familiar?

We are all under the same curse when it comes to useless complaining. Please do not tell me you are above all this. Speaking for myself, the amount of useless complaining I do around my apartment is enough to indict me on the charge of passive-aggressive maneuvering. I just did a load of dishes not a half-hour ago that I had stared at for days waiting for my roommates to accomplish. Why did I not simply ask one of them to take care of their dishes? I think the answer is that I would rather complain than seek for a solution. It just feels better to complain about others than to take responsibility on myself. I would rather complain than to seek remedies or solutions to these ridiculously simple matters. Are you the same way?

Maybe we will think the next time we say something silly like "I don't mean to complain, but...", however, the deeper issue will still be there. We are whiners as sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. That is why the gospel of Jesus is so different. The Apostle Paul wrote (from prison!) "Do all things without grumbling or questioning". He said that would make followers of Jesus shine like lights in the world!

Can you imagine a whole people who lived life without complaining? That would change everything, right? More importantly, can you imagine your own life unclouded by useless whining? Well, you have a chance right now. Will you live in the light of the gospel this moment which gives you remedy or will you wallow in your passive-aggressive whining?

If you don't mean to complain, there is a remedy for that. Jesus can free us of even this. Even now.

Are You Free?

2010-06-21T09:16:00.003-05:00

Like a lot of supposed soccer fans, I have been watching the World Cup quite a bit in the last few weeks. I will be clear, it is a fantastic sporting event which will magically move me to watch a plethora of futball (for those who live outside the US, or American social structure). This Cup (if I am using the proper slang) has been different and a bit special. It is the first World Cup ever to be held in Africa and this is in South Africa, nonetheless.

As per usual, ESPN has not missed a beat to talk about things other than sports, so they have talked quite a bit about the very recent Apartheid and the freedom attained over imperialistic slavery by this very generation.

It reminds me a bit of Birmingham, where I have lived in exile from California for the last four years. I have met and studied with a woman who was best friends with one of the little girls who died in the 16th Street Bombings back in the tumultuous 60's right here in this city.

We see the struggle for freedom and we all identify in some respects with these historical examples. But why? Allow me to answer by way of illustration.

Just yesterday I was waiting on a table and trying my best to keep a clear head on my shoulders. It was late in my shift and I had been generally undertipped, which is the norm for Hallmark holidays, like Fathers' Day, but I was determined to do my job as well as I could- it was not these folks' fault I wanted to go home, afterall.

Things were going well enough when something happened that has happened many times before. It bothered me for a second yesterday but only for a second. There I was, walking to and fro around the table, verbally confirming the well-prepared food and outward happiness of the table. All was well, so I stood a few feet to the side and waited.

Not two minutes after I left the table, I was startled by a shout.

"SIR" (I hate being called sir, formality I guess, but how could she know that?)

I went back to the table to attend to the meaningless detail she felt compelled to cry out over and I took care of her need. It also made me think a bit. We really do not feel free, do we?

Why would free people feel compelled to make demands upon other free people? Of course, I am not talking about the job itself. I do not mind fetching an extra side of dressing or filling up water. I do mind being shouted at and spoken down to. It just wears on you, I suppose.

If we really believed we were free, we would value others as more important than ourselves. We could properly see our brothers and sisters in the light of who they are. They were made to be free in Jesus Christ, whether they are a waiter, a mechanic, a professor, a housewife. We were all made to be free in the One free God who has revealed himself in Jesus Christ.

This is not just freedom from sin (Though it is), nor is it just freedom from wrath (though it is). This is freedom to properly see every person as loved and infinitely valued by God.

Can you imagine how the world would change if we believed we were free?

The Answer in the Details

2010-06-10T12:15:00.005-05:00

What would you do if you were God? Who would you let live? Who would you kill off? What type of society would you want to create? One without poverty? No more disease? No more starvation? Would your world be a utopia, free from all these nasty day-to-day distractions like work, laundry, bills, and iphone updates?

Whatever you would do as God, I would be willing to bet that you would not do what the God of the bible did. He speaks the world into existence, as we say "all things, seen and unseen". He creates good out of nothing. He did not make it because it was good, it was good because he made it. From the beginning, God is the standard of good from the very beginning.

But then, as we know, something happened. The contingently good creation turns on its ultimately good Creator. Mistaking their goodness as the standard instead of God's goodness as the standard. Man is not content anymore to be man. He wants to be God.

So what do you do in this situation, if you are God? Do you ignore the rebellion? Really? Not if you care one ounce about justice. Do you punish the rebels, subjecting them to some sort of miserable God-inflicted terror with no hope of recovery? Not if you are the least bit merciful. Do you un-speak the world and all in it, chalking it up as a failed experiment? Not if you are in the least bit concerned with your reputation.

In the interest of fulfilling the demands of justice, mercy, and reputation, the God of the bible becomes man. You may not have thought of this before, but Jesus not only takes on flesh, but he takes on all the seemingly meaningless details of day-to-day existence.

So Jesus worked. He met poor people. He met diseased people. He met people who were starving. He met people who were attempting to turn the world into a utopia. He healed many of them.

But that is not all he did. Jesus also entered into the everyday mundane details of life. His clothes got dirty. He took care of finances. He took care of his mom. He buried his dad. He lived with a house full of brothers. He ate. He drank. He was tired, worried, saddened, excited, and jovial.

It is weird, is it not, that God lived all the normal, un-remarkable, mundane details that we live. I am pretty sure we would be disappointed if we ever found a record of the lost 30 years of Jesus in-between his birth and public ministry. At least we would be disappointed if we were looking for some dramatic, heroic, superman stuff.

It is because Jesus lived these mundane details that they take on a real meaning to us. In Jesus' life, God lived not only the remarkable, memorable, big moments of life, but also the mundane and unremarkable.

In Jesus, God did what we would never in a million years think to do. Jesus threw off all the ultimately important trappings of being God to put on each and every one of those contingent, seemingly meaningless details of the mundane human life.

This is what it means for Jesus to live our life for us. His everyday life gives meaning to our everyday lives.

Are you waiting on God to do something dramatic in your life? Maybe he will. I think you should consider the fact that he wants to do something dramatic in and through the mundane details of your everyday life.

I know this is not what you would do if you were God but since when does he play by your rules?

What Are You Doing Here?

2010-06-04T08:32:00.005-05:00

I am not sure if it is like this in other professions, but I know for a fact that other waiters get the same question from guests on a regular basis. Some people want to know if you are going to school, or if you are in a witness protection program, or if our doctors have told us to wait tables for our health. It seems like an odd question for a total stranger to ask, does it not?

Now, these people mean well for certain. There are quite a few of my friends who ask such questions themselves, so I rarely question the motivation behind such a query. Some people, for some strange reason, care about complete strangers to the point that even the guy waiting on their table is worth finding out some detail about his life, his story.

I have always feared this question coming about for two key reasons. First of all, I hate to sound like Ned Flanders when I am waiting on somebody's table who has a tasty beverage in their hand. The last person I want to come across when I am having a good beer or Jack and Coke is the self-righteous guy raining on my parade. Hey, if God had not intended us to enjoy things, we would have no taste buds. There is nothing at all wrong with enjoying the good things in this life with those we care about (I believe the topic of moderation has been abundantly discussed in this here blog!).

So coming off as holier-than-thou is always something I am wary of at work. I think this is a healthy fear, and I spend a lot of energy dispelling myths of self-justification (which is the greatest enemy to the grace of Christ that I know) when I am at work. The second reason a personal question like "What are you doing here" makes me cringe is a more basic, substantive reason.

At the end of the day it scares me to death to invite people into my weaknesses. I really do not know what the last 8 years in school was all about. I have no idea what the ministry of Casey Hobbs will be, when it is all said and done.

Goals? Dreams? Visions? 20-year plan? 10-year plan? 5? 1? Nope. Except one thing, I do not have any of this. There is one thing I am settled on. I want to know and be known by God in Jesus Christ.

In the midst of so much self-definition on this blog (which I thank you, dear reader, for putting up with over the years), it turns out the only definition I will ever have is to be found in a person, that of Jesus. I want to know him as Friend and Lord; King and Brother; Priest and Confidant.

The operative word then becomes "trust". Trust in who God has shown himself to be in Jesus Christ. Trust in his promise to never leave me or let me go. Trust in his coming back to judge the living and the dead. Trust in his position as mediator between God and Man.

Maybe it is a good thing not to know. Martin Luther wrote:

Bewilderment is the true comprehension. Not to know where you are going is the true knowledge. My comprehension
transcends yours. Thus Abraham went forth from his father not knowing wither he went. He trusted himself to my
knowledge, and cared not for his own, and thus he took the right road and came to his journey's end. Behold, that is the
way of the cross.

Ya, maybe not knowing is better than we ever imagined.

Ten Percent Perspective

2010-05-12T11:04:00.001-05:00

There I was last night, working on the back end of an 11½ hour day, and I got sat with my least favorite amalgamation of guests. You guessed right, it was a table with four women.

If you did not guess right, the answer may have surprised you. Also, if you did not guess right, the odds are you have never waited tables. Women in a restaurant will (seemingly without exception) run you ragged with their constant critiques of the menu, drinks, atmosphere, and perhaps even your appearance.

To illustrate my point, I will include a conversation I had with another table full of women earlier in the day.

Me: Good afternoon, Ms. Smith

Ms. Smith: How did you know my name?

Me (bypassing the obvious reason that included the fact that she just told the hostess her name in favor of my over-used pun): Well ma’am, I have ESPN.

Ms. Smith (accompanied with a look of absolute distain): Well, ESPN is a sports channel so I think you are referring to ESP.

Me: Thank you so much, Ma’am. I appreciate your help.

As I said, it is a unique pleasure to wait on a table full of women but as the old saying goes, “somebody’s got to do it”. Last night it fell to me.

As I took their orders, I thought this table may have a bit of potential for breaking the mold. I thought this because I am an idiot and momentarily forgot the wise words of Ulysses Everett McGill: “Never trust a woman, Delmar. You remember that one simple precept and your time with me will not have been ill-spent.”

I was in such an accommodating frame of mind that I allowed the hostess of this party to order asparagus au gratin, which indeed, is not on the menu. I also ordered her a humble salad for her entrée with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.

Well, when the meal came, I noticed that something was definitely wrong. Do you remember the au gratin on the asparagus I had just mentioned? Well my kitchen did not. Do you remember the salad I ordered for her? Once again, the kitchen did not remember my order.

I was angry. How could my co-workers ignore my specific requests? It seemed they were rising against me because of my slightly odd order. This aggression against my order could not stand. I went back to the kitchen and stated my case plainly and passionately. I figured I had put up with this nonsense for far too long. It was my time to assert my rights.

Well, I got what I wanted. After a shouting match with my salad man and an invitation to step outside from my head cook, I had my lady’s order in hand, I had come through and done my job and I could rest assured that, even though I had to ruffle some feathers, I was in a fine position for a generous tip.

Then something happened. The ladies had finished their meal and they sat. And they sat. And they sat. In fact, they sat at their table for nearly two hours after their dinner was complete, chewing up my time as my day neared the twelve-hour mark.

To be clear, lingering is fine, even past the point when everybody else has left. As long as the restaurant is still open for business there is no reason to feel rushed out of the place. I do think there is a caveat to this general rule. You must tip 18-20% if you plan to chew up time past 10 at night.

As you may have guessed, my ladies were not aware of my suggested caveat. When they finally left, I was staring down at a ten percent tip.

For once, I was glad to get a crummy tip. It gave me a minute to reflect on what I had put others through to get paid. I had shouted at my friends to get their food correctly delivered. Why? So what if it takes an extra minute to fix an order. I am the only one that would look bad in that situation. The lady would have lived. She actually would have received her food at the same time whether I shouted at or spoke to my co-workers.

I was glad because I had a chance to apologize to my friends. There was no reason to shout. There was no reason to be angry. Did Jesus not say his Father was the one who feeds the sparrows and clothes the flowers? And there I was, worrying, and looking out for myself.

Well, I am glad Jesus did not do that. He considered equality with God not a thing to be hoarded but made himself nothing. He made himself a man. He entered history. He entered need. He entered pain. And he was obedient even to dying on a cross for the very ones who were against him.

Maybe I should stop worrying. Because of Jesus’ humility, my Father will take care of me.

Jesus, on How to Win Friends and Influence People

2010-04-11T11:28:00.004-05:00

What was the last pubic sermon Jesus preached? The answer to this question lies in Matthew 23. Over the last couple of days I have been thinking through the so-called "Seven Woes" that Jesus felt appropriate to end his public teaching ministry on. Jesus, apparently was not as concerned as we are with pleasing the crowds.

I have to be honest, I think I would like to end on an up-note. Maybe I could preach from Philippians 3- "All things I once counted as gain, I now count them as loss...that I may know him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his suffering that by any means I may attain the resurrection from the dead."

Or maybe I'd like to end like Paul's last letter to his friend Timothy, "I have fought the good fight, I have I have kept the faith, henceforth is laid up for me a crown of righteousness..."

Or perhaps I would end with an apocalyptic look at the future where we will "see his face...and there will be no need for sun or moon or lights for the light of the city of God will be the Lamb..."

I do not think I really want to end like Jesus. I would encourage myself. He warned others.

Thinking back, maybe I have heard Matthew 23 preached before but I do know that I do not remember hearing it. There are just so many other fantastic passages.

The more I have thought about it, though, the more I think the reason nobody preaches Matthew 23 (or at least memorable sermons on Matthew 23) is because it is way too easy to demonize the Pharisees. Yes, Jesus had very harsh words for the Pharisees but they were the ones wearing the black hats with the goatees. They were the red devil on the shoulder and we are the white angel on the shoulder of justice, right? We are on the right side, are we not?

Well, I cannot speak for you, but I am dangerously close (less than a month to be exact) to being an official "approved" theologian. Do you know what a theologian would be called in Jesus' time? A scribe. A teacher of the law. Perhaps even a Pharisee. Maybe Jesus' words in Matthew 23 are pointed in my direction. Maybe they are pointed in your direction.

Consider these reworded woes I have been working with:

1. Woe to you for allowing only the socially acceptable into your gatherings.
2. Woe to you for teaching people to rely on you and not Jesus.
3. Woe to you for being a different man or woman in different contexts.
4. Woe to you who know how to parse but don't show mercy, justice, or faithfulness to your fellow man.
5. Woe to you who confess you are a sinner but do not really believe it.
6. Woe to you who preach grace but live under the law.
7. Woe to you who speak against the Pharisees while opposing Jesus' rule the same as they did.

The good news for my fellow Pharisees is that this is not the end. Jesus finishes the sermon with prayer for us. He actually weeps over us and pleads for us to turn back to him.

O Church, O Church, how he longs to gather you up into his arms like a mother hen brings her chicks underneath her wings. The love of Christ is all we have. The excellent news is that his love is more than we will ever need.

He still prays for me. He still prays for you.

Bless Those Who Curse You.

2010-03-16T15:35:00.003-05:00

Bless and do not curse. That's what Paul wrote. Incidentally, this is the single truth about Christianity and a life following Jesus that I find to be the most offensive and difficult. Is it not good enough just to hold my peace and not curse people who are rude to me? No?! I have to pray for them too? For their good, not their destruction? Dang it.

As usual, I am coming armed with a story so rest assured.

It has to be almost three years since I waited on one of the most wealthy and notoriously rude patron in the Magic City (That is, Birmingham, for those of you who don't live here). When I say that it was a bad experience to wait on this guy, I mean that he and his four guests finally got up and left their table before they had paid their bill. It would have seemed like he was in a hurry had he not stopped to inform my manager of the worst service he had ever received in his life (or, probably anyone in recorded history).

I made a vow then and there, nearly three years ago that I would never wait on this man as long as I could keep my job in spite of sluffing-off his table. I have been encouraged by the fact that, except for rare occasions, he has not graced us with his presence. In the meantime, I have also had a laugh with my coworkers, several of whom had the exact same experience with this man in their first encounter.

And there was his name in the reservation list for Friday night. Like a dark spot on an otherwise clear day, I could see that he was scheduled to sit in my section.

I prepared myself. Seldom are my prayers more heartfelt than when I am asking for patience at the restaurant (here I am not making a joke!). And so he and his party made their way to my table completely against my will.

As I took drink orders, his guest (a man I have also waited on several times before) asked me the dreaded "Where do you go to school" question. I was only a question or two away from telling him I was studying to be a pastor. And it was not long before I reluctantly volunteered the information.

I do not know if it was because they thought I was somehow holy enough to wait on them, or if it was fear of the office of pastor, or just the alcohol, but they were actually stunningly pleasant to me.

And believe it or not, the women at the table asked me to give them a blessing. Out of all the strange requests I have received over the years, this has to be the strangest. After a few mandatory initial changing of subjects, they asked me again.

I could not believe it. I was giving the classic "Aaronic blessing" from Numbers 6:24-26:

The Lord bless you and keep you;
The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace

Like I said, every bone in my body protested against them even sitting in my section. Yet here I was literally blessing somebody who had gone out of their way to curse me.

This is a little way that shows what God did for us. Jesus was cursed not only literally by people shouting at him but also by the fact that to be hung on a "tree" is pretty much the epitome of being cursed (Deuteronomy 21:22-23). While he hung on the tree, though, he also blessed.

He prayed for us. In a well-known phrase we should reflect on as Easter approaches, he said: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

The Man in the Sweater-Vest

2010-03-09T17:21:00.003-06:00

I almost just lost it. I am sitting in a coffee shop even as I write this email and I am foolishly reading and writing without the benefit of my headphones. I say foolish because these are the times I overhear my fellow-man saying all manner of stupid things that we are prone to say.

The conversation of the patrons who are still as we speak talking loudly to one another and competing for the award of most important caught my ear when they mentioned the name of my restaurant. I will recount the details as best as I can remember them:

Dude in a floral shirt and sweater-vest: "Yeah, I went to the steak house the other day and it was ridiculous. I ordered a medium steak and it came out all wrong. I called the waiter over and I asked him what color a medium steak should be. He said 'pink'. I said 'exactly, except the steak was red!!!"

Dude's friend: "Yeah, that's crazy, I am sorry for the injustice that has been done to you and your family."

Dude in a floral shirt wearing a sweater-vest: "I know, right? I don't know why I go there anymore."

It was at this point in the overheard conversation that I started to veer over my computer screen with my disapproving waiter look that I have developed over the years. Now, of course, I was impressed by the fact that he chose one of the five approved temperatures for a steak. I was, however, unimpressed with the attitude I heard coming from the man in the sweater-vest.

I could picture this man talking like this to one of my friends. Instead of directly asking for the steak to be cooked to the desired temperature (which is always an acceptable course of action), he went the route of the self-important.

You know what route I am talking about, right? It is the way we take every day when things do not go according to our plans. The needs of others and their lack of perfection irritates us to the point that we assume they are beneath us and therefore unworthy of being treated as we would like to be treated.

The more I think about the guy in a sweater-vest bad-mouthing the place that has employed me for nearly the last four years, the more I can identify myself in him (although not in his sweater-vest). I would much rather avoid confrontation than to operate under the assumption that my roommate is also made in the image of God. If we are both in the image of God, how can I choose to see his needs as an inconvenience to me? How can I treat him any less than the way Christ would treat me when I confess that he laid down his life for me?

If Jesus went willingly to the cross (as I believe), and let his enemies kill him (as I believe) so that he could save these same enemies from death (as I also believe), how can I disregard the needs of those around me?

Jesus save me from disrespecting the ones you love.

Be a Revolutionary

2010-02-28T10:28:00.003-06:00

Greetings loyal readers. As always, this whole "school" thing kinda kills my time to write about awesome restaurant experiences. I was reading an article from the New York Times today and I thought I would pass it on to you for your reading pleasure.

Let this be a reminder to tip 18-20% after church today. Be a revolutionary.

Article

New Material

2010-02-20T10:48:00.008-06:00

One thing that cracks me up about working in a restaurant is that we are never at a loss for new material. Some people, I think, tend to be comfortable enough with their lives that they miss out on what theologians call "total depravity". Since I am in a theological mood of late, I will feel free to use this oft-misunderstood term. It does not mean that we are as bad as we can be. In fact, nobody is as bad as they can be while they walk this earth. What it means is that every part of us is affected or changed by the fall of man. Our minds, wills, and our hearts are all mangled by this thing we call sin. I do not know a better theologian when it comes to this phrase than a waiter, but I digress.

Last night I was reminded of this key concept. I had just begun serenading a table of 4 with our appetizers (when I say I had just begun, I mean that I was not done with the 1st) when the man with the wine list reached his point of critical mass.

"You are killing me". He said looking at nobody in particular. This is what we like to call "passive aggressive", just so you know.

"Excuse me sir, are you looking for a particular wine?" I suggested, in a feeble hope that he was not referring to me.

"NOPE."

That we like to refer to as a definitive statement for me to leave and come back later (like for their order, bringing their food, and bringing their check...also known as 3-point service). Others would call it a crazy-obvious social gaffe, but who's keeping score, right?

So I went away in a mix of shame and anger (ok, mostly anger) and waited for the Magistrate to call me back to his service, which, of course, he did when he wanted to look at two bottles of wine before he would render a decision. Yes, that is how the pros do it. Not only would I like to look at a list of wine, but I also need to see at least two of the bottles before I can choose, just to make sure you're not pulling the old switcheroo on the labels after I bought it. Or something to that effect.

As you can imagine, I was having a blast with this table, and my excitement was only enhanced when one of the women pulled my favorite move. You guessed it, the old wave-over. Nothing like being a grown man being beckoned by another human being by a wave of the hand. Its like a recipe for a good time, right?

It only got better when I got to the table and everybody was talking. Me standing there for about a minute with nobody's attention. Thanks for making a point to call me over. I'll be leaving now.

Of course, this sets off a cacophony of four voices calling out my name in desperation. I have made a habit of ignoring such voices calling me as I would call my dog. I did relent last night when a coworker also pointed out the sad pleas (he pointed it out in front of them so my thin cover would be blown if I kept walking). Now they are ready to order. The universe has hope once again!

If you know me, dear reader, you would know that when I am annoyed or angry I have a habit of being very quiet and short with others. I confess that I was very quiet and short with this table, performing my job as well as I ever would just without falsely acting like we were all pals.

For whatever reason, the same woman who had previously been so rude decided to change courses. She took an interest in my overall demeanor and suggested out of thin air:

"Casey, honey, you need to lighten up."

"Thank You." I said, uttering the only words that came to mind which were not four letters in duration.

I am learning what it means to follow Jesus. I am learning what it means to bless others even when they curse me. I am learning what it means to love my enemy like Jesus did and expressly told me to do in the bible. I was not cursed or enduring persecution in the physical sense that so many are right now in the world but in its own way these scenarios are a kind of barb into me.
I do not know how else to handle this situation and maybe I do need to lighten up at times. Who knows? But the more I have thought about it today, the more the simple command in all of what Jesus said comes to my mind.

"Pray for those who persecute you". So I will shut up for now and pray for these people that the blessing would fall to them like it has to me. That God would be their God. That they would be his people.

At least that much is clear.

Be Kind.

2010-02-14T10:26:00.008-06:00

The other day I was shuffling through my pictures with my valentine when I came across this picture I had taken a few months back. I'm not sure why this never made it as a post at the time because I thought it was such a ridiculous stack of bills that would almost tell a story in and of themselves.

The picture you are seeing is something like 18 separate checks (yes, at one time, from one party). I remember the scene hauntingly well and my dreams were interrupted last night with a recounting of a similar scene. There they were, eighteen or so students who had reservations for seven o'clock (which meant that my pay had to depend solely on them for the evening), showing up at eight-thirty and streaming in faster than the hostess could seat them. Some wanted dessert, some wanted entrees, and all at the same time.

If you can look at the picture and believe this, after about 5 minutes of my taking care of their ridiculous checks, a few came over and started complaining that I was taking too long to handle the money. Those incidents are when I am reminded of the unique skill I have as a Hobbs to tell somebody exactly what I mean in one sentence or less.

Another time, I was waiting on a...how do I describe this gentleman...ah yes, a bafoon. I was waiting on a bafoon who sat at my table on a busy Saturday night waiting for the rest of his party to arrive...for 2 hours!! When his friend showed up, he literally showed up playing a violin in the middle of the restaurant. If that was not a ridiculous statement, I suggest you read it again.

Anyhow, the bafoon and his party have a lovely meal, during which he requested that our chef hurry his entrees along (for whatever reason the chef never heard that request- you guess) and he reached in to pay the bill and brought out these ridiculous plastic games with gift cards inside (see picture to the right). As he and his friends yucked it up, he told me that his dad had given these to him as a practical joke so he was passing along the hilarity to me. As much of a sense of humor that I feel I possess, I totally missed his punch-line. I did, however, have a nice time destroying his dad's practical joke to get to his payment so I guess it worked out for both of us.

Well, the reason I bring this to your attention, dear reader (also, tell dad I posted this, mom), is that many of you are going to go out to eat this weekend or next to celebrate Valentine's Day. Your focus will no doubt be on your beloved and I endorse that move. Let the spiritual waiter remind you, however, that the guy bringing your food is also a person and should be treated with respect.

Be a revolutionary. Smile, be kind, tip 18-20%. You may look like salt and light in a restaurant.

Happy Valentines Day.

The Return of the Restaurant Reviewers...

2010-01-30T13:34:00.002-06:00

That would be one of the worst titles for a monster movie, wouldn't it? The only titles that would be worse for a monster movie might include the names of the seven dwarves or Gary Busey but I digress. Secret shoppers really are not that big of a deal but they do tend to make me think about our post-fall world.

My friend Juan was the guy to get shopped this time and he did fairly well on the overall score.

If you are unfamiliar with the secret shop (which was alluded to in an earlier post), there is a checklist of things that our company expects us to be accomplishing with each table. The expectations range from arriving at the table within 60 seconds to saying a guest's name at least twice. I suppose there is a good place for this type of thing, even if I cannot place my finger on it.

Well, Juan is a good waiter, in addition to being a good husband, father etc. An unrelated fact to this story is that he is actually a lawyer in Mexico as well as here in the states. All this to say that he normally does a good job and this time was no exception but I digress yet again.

The thing that made me think about the fallen nature of the human race was the space marked for additional points in this silly system with the question: "Did the server do anything memorable or exceptional". This bonus question was answered with a "no".

On the other hand, the reviewer remarked at how Juan's service was "impeccable". Also, they took the time to write, "This was the best service we have ever received".

Are these not remarks that could be described as "memorable" or "exceptional"? What more could you want from any man than for him to do his job well? Are we really at a place where we expect more out of people than for them to be do what we ask of them? And what is this secret thing that I am looking for when I go to a restaurant that a man cannot meet by providing me with "impeccable" service?

Well, the most obvious problem with this silly system is that it is a silly subjective system but of course, I think there is something a bit deeper. I know that I constantly place my own secret, unrealistic expectations on people around me. I read into peoples' words and actions what I would have meant instead of what those around me are really indicating. This does not work.

We are on a level plane as sons of Adam. We hurt. We feel anger. We feel betrayed. We let others down. Any of these feelings could deceive us into thinking that we are somehow different than those around us. We fail to see that we are all sinking in the same boat. We all need the same rescuer.

It is good that God was willing to come all the way out to where we are and give himself for us. He no longer holds expectations for us because anything God would require from us would be an unrealistic one. Instead, he sends himself. He sends Jesus to fulfill each expectation he ever had from us.

That is grace.

Thoughts from Rev. Casy

2010-01-25T00:34:00.004-06:00

I have John Steinbeck to blame for making me think about the really important things in life again.

The Grapes of Wrath is a story about a family that moves West (about 350 miles from my hometown/the land of milk and honey) from Oklahoma in the Dust Bowl/Great Depression era. The main character is an ex-killer named Tom Joad. My favorite character is an ex-preacher named Jim Casy (I know, he totally misspells his name, right?) who has basically become overwhelmed by his own two-faced living and resigned to a life of fear and shame.

Well, Rev. Casy's words cut me at one particular point. Another character named "Uncle John" was struggling with the shame of his past. It too was crippling him. He continued to turn to the whiskey to drown his sorrows but that only brought temporary relief. He would find a woman and try to numb his pain through sex. He would also overeat to unhealthy excess. Shame was driving his life. Uncle John reached out to Rev. Casy to see what the once-man of God would say about his sin.

Casy said gently, 'Sure I got sins. Ever'body got sins. A sin is somepin you ain't sure about. Them people that's sure about ever'thing an' ain't got no sin- well, with that kin a son-of-a-bitch, if I was God I'd kick their ass right outa heaven! I couldn't stand 'em!'

Does that statement not ring with truth? How often do we think that God needs help up there? How often do we think that we could add a bit of greatness on to God by doing a few things better?

The fact is that we are totally opposed to God because we are all born into sin. We can't scrape up enough goodness between the 6 billion people who live on the earth to make a drop in the bucket of God's greatness. And the good news of the gospel that we claim is that God did not leave us there. He went after us sinners and pursued us all the way to the point of becoming a man. In becoming a man, Jesus lived the life we should have lived. He died the death we should have died. In raising from the dead to new life, he has purchased new and full life for all his people.

But we have to die if we want to live. We have to die to our own knowledge. The more sure we are of the way things should be, the further we are from really getting it. That is crazy. That is a paradox. That is something that I know is true but I cannot begin to explain it. My God is much bigger than my comprehension. That may be a difficult thought but it is oh-so-comforting.

My pastor Tal likes to say that God did not save you because he has good taste. He does not need our help being God. We need his help being human.

Bewilderment is true comprehension. Not to know where you are going is true knowledge- Martin Luther

Customer Service

2010-01-18T12:40:00.002-06:00

I know some may argue that this is a blog about waiting tables. The truth is that it is a blog about whatever is deemed worthy of passing my mind through my fingers into the keyboard. I also feel safe changing topics from time to time seeing as how my last three posts are unstained by comments.

I do know a thing or two about customer service, though. It is what I do for a living. Whether it is in a restaurant or in any other walk of life, I notice the way companies handle me when I have an issue.

I can remember, for instance, when I have gone into AT&T for something, needing to talk face to face with a person (if you did not know, I am abysmal at talking on the phone). I talked to said person, who immediately corralled me to yet another phone to talk to somebody in Pennsylvania or Ghana or India or wherever these people are trying to 'help' me from, even against my stated wishes.

This would be bad customer service. (For other examples of bad customer service, I invite you, dear reader, to glance through some of my own personal examples located right here on this blog)

Good customer service, on the other hand, would be what Alibris Books has just done for me. Alibris Books is pretty much like Amazon, except for their specialty in cheap used text books (I mean, like rare $5 books btw).

I decided that I would get an early start on my last semester of school, so at the beginning of December, I ordered the catalogue for my most difficult class. After waiting until the new year for the books to arrive, I knew something had gone wrong. Yep, I had sent them to my college address. You know, the one I lived at 4 years ago? Yeah, that one.

Well, two books were delivered to said address, while three were sent back over the holidays. I thought I had surely lost money on this deal that I would never get back. After all, what is their real motivation to help me?

The answer to this question would be the fact that they are excellent at customer service. They have refunded my lost books with almost no pain or even elapsed time to speak of throughout the process.

In short, Alibris Books is stellar and I am so impressed that I thought I should recommend them to you, dear reader.

I Do Not Negotiate With Terrorists

2010-01-06T11:51:00.001-06:00

The question, "What are you doing for this New Years' Eve?" has little meaning to a waiter. Our answer will depend on how thoroughly exhausting the night has been and whether or not going out for a drink at one o'clock seems like a good idea or not. New Years' Eve is one of those days waiters love to hate. We know it will take every ounce of energy we can summon up either through caffeine, Red Bull, or some illicit substance, to power us through seven hours of constant order-taking.

This year, I started off the festivities by watching Rocky beforehand and attempting to get pumped up for what awaited me when I would get to work. This year I was pleasantly surprised. I don't know if it was the push-ups or Foreigner's soundtrack in my head, but it was not half as crazy as other half-breed holidays I have experienced in my illustrative career.

Then I did it. I actually believed that I had survived the holidays unscathed by restaurant insanity. Fool that I am.

When Saturday night rolled around, I waltzed smugly back into the steak house to be greeted with the pleasant news that we would be having around three hundred guests that night. Now, this is not half as many people as had reservations for Thursday night, but nonetheless, this is a pretty busy night.

I will not tell you about our massively under-staffed support staff. Likewise, I will resist the urge to tell you about my beloved chef's continual sending out of lukewarm food, even after my continual efforts to remind him why I was back in the kitchen when my tables were constantly in need of another drink. No, I told myself I would not tell you about these things.

What I will tell you is a little story about a man who came in at 6pm announcing that the rest of his party would be around shortly. At first, I took this as a blessing. Afterall, I was already in the proverbial 'weeds', so I was in no hurry to speed up my own demise. As time wore on, however, and the man continued to wait on his people, he began to wear out his welcome.

After two hours of sitting (mind you, I could have had a party of four sit down, order three courses and leave in that time), his party showed up.

I told myself I would not tell you, dear reader, about the fact that one of his friends showed up playing the violin (you can't make this stuff up). I also told myself I would not write a word about the fact that his method of payment was literally in a handheld pinball machine. No, I have resolved to only tell you about his request.

After two and a half hours of burning my time and money, the table was ready to order. Once they had, our friend leaned over to me and whispered,

"Could you tell the chef to hurry this order? We are late to another engagement".

As a wise professor of mine has said, it is not my policy to negotiate with terrorists. Terrorists constantly demand things on their own terms at the expense of the well-being of others, if necessary. Their food, suffice to say, was not on my list of top 10 priorities after this request.

I do not know if I have a great moral or spiritual application to this post. If you must learn something from every post of mine (and I do hope you are not depending on my blog for your spiritual well-being), then simply learn this: considering the needs of others is actually a good thing. As odd as it may seem, we, especially as followers of Jesus, are called to put the needs of others in front of our own.

So if you are out at a restaurant this weekend, take my advice. Consider the needs of your waiter. You are not his or her only priority and you will become much less of a priority the more time you waste and the more demanding you become.

Enjoy.

Judged on What Grounds?

2009-12-28T10:17:00.002-06:00

Most everybody knows that in the restaurant world there are people known as "secret shoppers". Whether it be a magazine, or in our case, an outside agency, every waiter lives in the fear, or more precisely the distant memory of the existence of the secret shopper.

I have been "shopped" three times now in my time as a waiter. It is just the same as anything, you can start to see these "secret" people coming from a mile away. It may sound cynical, but the best way to identify said shopper is that they are deeply intent on hearing my opinion and knowledge of our menu.

If these people were not shoppers, then I have lost my touch. I feel as if that is unlikely.

The woman asked about our fried potatoes not two seconds after I had described the same dish in detail. The man informed me that his wife needs a tequila with "more agave" in it for her margarita. To remind you, agave is the ingredient that essentially makes tequila tequila and not some other substance. She wanted to know precise weights of not only steaks but also potatoes on our menu. Please. Let us just remove the term "secret" from these shoppers.

Anyhow, after a couple of trys getting her margarita "less-tart" (read: hide the alcohol/agave/tequila with sugar), we were off and running.

I do have to admit at the end of the day that I take my job personally, as well as the restaurant where I work. Unfounded criticism does not sit well with me not only because this place has paid my bills for over three years, but more because my friends are the ones preparing the food. I do not mind somebody complaining if their food is prepared incorrectly, but to continually whine about every course gets really, really old. This is not so much typical of the secret shoppers as of the human race.

What finally annoyed me to the point of honesty was when she complained about our banana cream pie (my favorite dessert, which I had made myself before bringing it out to them). It was Saturday night and it took a few extra minutes to bring out the dessert, which would account for why I personally made it. Here was the scene:

She: Oh, I am glad you brought that dessert, I was about to cancel our order, I do not know what took so long to get it.

Me: Ma'am, It is Saturday.

That did it. There was very little conversation that followed and that was alright with me. The constant nagging and judgement she practiced, oddly enough, did not lead to a pleasant end. It ended with me having to bring her ship back into the port of reality. This restaurant is not "on demand". You must wait for a person to prepare it and another person to take time and bring it out for you. Because she did not consider others, her judgement was unfounded.

I do think about what I am going to be judged on in the end. God has plenty of grounds to condemn me as a foolish but wholehearted rebel against him. In Christ, though, there is absolutely no charge that can stand against me. My rebellion, whining, disrespect, self-centeredness and so much more is paid in the blood of Jesus.

If you have no charge against you, on what grounds are you judging others?

Righting the Wrong

2009-12-17T14:56:00.003-06:00

Getting a sorry tip is part of the gig. Some people I wait on are very generous and go above and beyond the standard 18-20%. Most of the others are right around that range. It is actually a very small percentage of the people I wait on who are bold enough to tip me 15% or less. I have to be honest, when I first started waiting tables, I could remember each one of them and their faces would haunt me in my sleep, all the while complimenting my superior service (this is known as a 'verbal tip'- and is useless when it comes time to pay my bills).

As time goes on, it all becomes a blur. In order to maintain sanity, any server has to forget the guy who comes in and tips $5 on $150. It happens. Its part of the gig.

That is why it caught me off-guard the other day when my friends and I went to my restaurant to eat lunch and a guest walked over to me and handed me an envelope with a note apologizing for and rectifying a poor tip he had left a couple of weeks ago. Here's the letter:

Among all the other crazy things that happen in this job, it is nice every now and again to see somebody who cares for others and considers their feelings and needs.

So a note back: Way to go, dude!

Casey, the Restaurant-Cursed

2009-11-27T11:00:00.004-06:00

I do not consider myself a superstitious man. I am not even sure I believe the Chicago Cubs are cursed so much as a poorly-run organization. What I do believe, however, is that I have a massive restaurant curse. I think this is what motivates me to do a good job at work on the slowest night. I would hate to contribute to somebody else's restaurant curse.

You do not know what a restaurant curse is? I will give three examples before I tell my story from last night.

1) The Waffle House has been out of Coke twice and unable to make waffles another time.
2) I was once with Tal and Garrett, both of who took 5 minutes to order their food. I ordered mine, which came 10 minutes late and was a completely different menu item.
3) The only place this curse does not exist is the famed Jackson's Bar and Bistro; which is a good part of why I eat there almost exclusively.

So there I was last night, hanging with my buddy Jim, at the aforementioned Waffle House, grabbing some late-night single guy Thanksgiving dinner. Well, it was only about 20 minutes before somebody came over to our table to help us, which is pretty much par for the course. I ordered my standard: hash browns, coffee and a chocolate chip waffle. Jim ordered some hash browns and texas toast.

Well, the hash browns and Jim's texas toast came out after a few minutes and I smiled at Jim, reminding him of my famed curse.

About 10 minutes later, one of the cooks looked over at me: "You wanted your waffle to be extra crispy, right?" Oh yeah, absolutely, you read my mind. If you could just cook that till its a frisbee and I could take it home to my dog that would be even better.

Then the coffee. I could see that there was an entire fresh pot of it staring me right in my face, and yet nothing in front of me. Finally I had to ask for a cup. Two times ordering the same thing? That presents no problem for a man who spends his life under a restaurant curse.

Then it happened. A cook decided to wash some dishes, which is a rare occurrence, indeed. So rare, apparently, that they are not trained on proper dishwashing procedure. Probably the first rule is that you should not HIT CUSTOMERS IN THE FACE WITH DISHWATER!!!!

That's right, dear reader, I got sprayed directly in the face with Waffle House dishwater. After a long, extended period of silence, I called our waitress over and explained the situation. Happily, we were absolved from paying for our meal. It was a good thing because I may have pulled a Kid-Rock if that was not offered.

In a world where everything seems cursed (because, in a way it is...Genesis 3:15), even these funny reminders are good to have because they point me back to the fact that I follow the One who broke the curse. More than that, he disarmed the law, sin and death. I can take bad service every now and again.

Whiners.

2009-11-24T11:59:00.007-06:00

"Do you need anything?"

"No, we just hadn't seen you in a while"

"Well, I was just placing your food on trays to bring them to you when our hostess told me you needed me. Are you sure I can't do anything for you?"

"Oh yes. But we do need our food right away."

"Absolutely, sir. I will go back to the kitchen and bring out your food."

It was one of those weeks at the steak house. This particular table had been assured of their private room, which was predictably enough, was double-booked. While, of course, I took the cries for my presence as a compliment (after all, how can I blame somebody for missing me, right?), I feel free to confess to you, dear reader, that this annoyed me to no end. Such was the story of my past week. Acting as a true monument for the restaurant industry, I took in the tired, poor, the huddled masses yearning to squawk about the injustices of a world aligned against them.

Is it not just like us to complain about things that have little to no significance? Even in the moment, it could not have been very important for me to have been physically present at the table. They were not actually needing anything because I had already provided for them. They may not have known it but I actually had a plan for them. This plan included good things in their future. The problem was that they could not see me and were immediately losing faith in my abilities and intentions.

Does this look familiar? It does to me. I could point out the fact that the same generation of Israelites who had seen God make dry land out of a large body of water only to close it up on their enemies would whine about God's lack of provision as soon as they were safely across. I could point out the fact that once Jesus had been crucified and risen again, his followers (who had seen him raised from the dead, mind you) were returning to their normal course of life, fishing. I could point out the letters John wrote at the beginning of Revelation to churches who were losing faith because God somehow seemed incapable or unwilling to help.

Instead, I will just point to myself to prove my point. Jesus' promise to me could not be clearer. He said he would never leave me. He said that he would send his Holy Spirit to live in me. He said that he had overcome the world for me. And yet how often I feel myself at the verge of giving up. I lose sight of the fact that God is totally capable and passionately willing to provide what I really need.

I do not always feel God's presence in my life. Maybe you do, and that is fantastic. I do not. The great news though, is that God is no less true when I struggle to comprehend him. His plans are no less perfect when I kick against them. His promises are no less sure when I doubt them. My life is a constant process of going back to the basics.

God made me good. I turned against him. He loves me. He sent his son to live, die, and be raised again for me. His plans for me are indescribably good. His ability to come through for me is unchallenged.

I rehearse these truths to myself constantly. What do you do when you doubt?

Lobster, Anyone?

2009-11-10T23:37:00.002-06:00

Whoever says we don't have problems as a human race has never waited tables. Sometimes I forget this simple principle. Those days are known as "off days". Normally it only takes me an hour or so of steak-slinging to be reminded of our sin-shriveled society. Last night it took me until I got the pleasure of waiting on a man sitting by himself. I'll call him "Mr. Davis", ok? Great. Here goes.

As I approached Mr. Davis' table I had to know I was about to be reminded of our plight as the sons of Adam. He seemed pleasant enough for being a slightly unbalanced, rather large creature. The first thing he did was to order a double vodka and a splash of diet coke. "Sir, do you have a vodka preference?" What a rookie question.

So I returned to his table armed with his magic potion.

"What'll it be man?" (sometimes I speak in more familiar terms if I feel it will improve my tip)

"You mean sir!"

"...ok...what will it be...sir?" (bewildered by the fact that I had misread him)

"Yes, I am sir, not ma'am!"

"Ok sir, I actually call you 'man', not 'ma'am'. I am not quite that far gone."

If I didn't realize who I was dealing with before this little interaction, I certainly had a better idea from this point on. My guy was just a bit off. The good news was that he wanted a whole lobster for dinner. This makes me happy at 30 bucks a pound, so who's complaining, right?

Well, I started a salad for Mr. Davis, who also asked for another double vodka, which I was happy to bring him. The first double vodka didn't seem to do too much damage to him, and since he was already a bit strange, I figured he would be alright for another drink.

About two sips into that second drink I could tell that Mr. Davis was not entirely aware of his own limits. With his salad strewn all about his table and his arms moving with all the skill and dexterity of a T-Rex, Mr. Davis was starting to look like Otis Campbell from the Andy Griffith Show.

Once he was finished with his salad, I cleaned off his table and assured him that his lobster was on its way out and went about serving the rest of my tables. A few minutes later I saw my friend Jaime (Hispanic name pronounced "HI-May") standing next to Mr. Davis' table with a bewildered look about him, holding a plate full of lobster in his hand.

As I approached the table, I started to have my own doubts. Why was Jaime still standing there holding the plate? Why did the plate look like it was about a half a lobster too light? Why was there no lobster tail on said plate?

All these questions were answered when I turned by attention to by inebriated guest. His mouth was full. That's right, full of an entire 1/2 pound lobster tail.

Mr. Davis could not wait for another person to literally put down the plate before he needed to eat. And if you've had the pleasure of eating lobster before, you know how extremely rich the meat is- and how horribly disgusting it must be to eat an entire lobster tail in one bite.

I can't put my finger on it more than to say that Mr. Davis is a son of Adam just like you and I. If this guy doesn't point out our need for a Savior, I don't know who will.

There Are Only Five Options For Temperature On Your Steak.

2009-10-31T12:18:00.007-05:00

Consider this a public service announcement from the pleasure providing servants of the restaurant industry. If you don't have an ipod or a blackberry, I'd suggest you write this down for your future remembrance. I know sometimes I speak in a roundabout fashion, but I'm beginning to have more respect for you, dear reader, and I think it's time you heard some straight talk from me. It is this simple: there are only five options for temperature on your steak.

The options are as follows: Rare, Medium Rare, Medium, Medium Well, Well.

Now I know this may shock you and I can already hear those who know me best calling me a hypocrite due to the fact that I rarely keep rules. I understand your concern. The thing is, we are trying to run a society here. Red lights mean stop. Green means go. Baseball fans from outside of the Bronx hate the Yankees and you don't mess around with Jim. Without these and other structural trusses, life as we know it would crumble and dissolve. Allow me to add one more to this assumed list of norms: there are only five options for temperature on your steak.

Is it an example which you pine for, loyal follower? I will indulge you.

So there I was last night, waiting on a family of four. We have a rather large porterhouse steak on our menu. To give you a perspective, a normal steak in a restaurant is going to be around six or eight ounces worth of meat. Our porterhouse is around thirty-five ounces plus the bone. When I have an order for a porterhouse steak, you can imagine that I will take my time and agree upon exact specifications with my guest as to how they prefer our cooks to prepared. Now, I would like to once again remind you of the societal norm: there are only five options for temperature on your steak.

The man ordering must have identified me as the gunman on the grassy knoll or the guy who kicked his dog because he was in no mood to waste his words on me. FIne, I've been ignored by more noteworthy people! Well, as you can probably guess by now, he had no regard for the structure of said societal norms. Apparently, he prefers unpredictable chaos to well-worn paths of conventional wisdom.

He- I would like my steak between Medium Rare and Medium.

Me- You would like your steak between a red center and a pink center?

He- Yes. I want my steak between Medium Rare and Medium.

Me (anticipating, as if prophetically, the disaster which could come from telling my cook to cook a 3 pound steak between two colors)- Well, sir, I have to tell my cook one of those temperatures.

He (becoming agitated and now pointing in-between the two temperatures on the menu with his salad knife)- I would like the steak in-between these two temperatures.

Me (my polite words having been exhausted)- I understand what you are saying. Please understand that my cook must aim at one of these two steaks. Which one would you like?

He (frustrated with my incompetence)- fine, then. Cook it at Medium Rare if you have to.

Me- Absolutely, I will. Thank You.

It never ceases to amaze me how unhappy we can be with the lives that we live. I am convinced more and more that dudes who feel the need to re-write menus are the same ones who are constantly wanting to rewrite their own lives. But we all do, don't we? We may not want to rewrite all of it, but certainly a failure here and a heartbreak here, right? I don't know what was bugging this guy but I am willing to be that he is unhappy with his own story.

We should watch how we think of the story that God is writing in us. Paul, the tentmaker, author, pastor, and Apostle, wrote: "But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

It was not Paul's past or present that got first place in his thinking, but his future. Yes, he had made mistakes. Yes, he had hurt others and been hurt himself. Yes, he had plenty of reason to be unhappy with his story. Yes, he had plenty of reason to want to rewrite his life.

The difference between the way he handled life and the way so many of us do was that he had his sights set high enough that he didn't have to rewrite a menu to feel significant. He didn't have to break down the societal norms to know that he was unique. He could rest in what God was doing in his life and let insignificant details be insignificant.

I hate to think of myself as a crusader, much less a warrior in the battle for conventional norms. But I am learning to focus on the things that really count. The people around me are much more important than the circumstances around me. When I'm thinking like I should, I can see a glimmer of the way things really are.

Then, among other benefits, I can also see the truth that there are only five options for temperature on your steak.

Some thoughts I had from The Invention of Lying

2009-10-29T01:15:00.009-05:00

I went for the same reason most of us go to movies. I went because I had a long week and a Friday night date. One of the things that excites me about how God chooses to reveal himself is that he does it in very unexpected ways and in unexpected places. This was one of them.

The Invention of Lying centers on a very intriguing concept. The story takes place in a world run on the basis of pure factual, empirical reality. The viewer is invited on the first date between the classically beautiful Anna (Jennifer Garner) and the proverbially portly Mark (Ricky Gervais, co-creator of BBC’s The Office). When Anna’s cell phone rings halfway through dinner, she proceeds to belittle Mark by describing her date as “a bit fat with a funny little snub nose”.

One day shortly after the disastrous date, Mark is fired from his job as a writer for a movie company. As you may imagine, the movies in such a world are rarely worth watching. Mark had received the short end of the stick, so to speak, having to write all of his stories on his assigned century, the 14th. His Black Plague stories worn thin, Mark clears out his desk in shame to the cheers of his own secretary, Shelley (Tina Fey), who mocks him on his way out the door.

His firing could not have come at a worse time. His Black Plague stories have left Mark with a bank account incapable of meeting his month’s rent. When the landlord tells him to gather his gear and move out, Mark sulks to the bank to withdraw his entire account- two hundred dollars- and rent a moving truck.

Ashamed and at the end of his rope, Mark walks into the bank and does what many of us would do in his situation. He makes a joke. The teller asked him how much money he would like to withdraw and he answered: “Eight hundred dollars.” When the teller handed him the money, it suddenly dawned on him that he was capable of saying things that were “not.”

As the viewer would anticipate, Mark begins to use these powers in all types of predicable ways, from lying for sex (which he does not go through with) to withdrawing money for the homeless. The big shift in the movie comes when Mark’s mother is dying. She fearfully says: “I do not want to die and enter eternal nothingness.”

Mark, in an effort to comfort his mother, begins to tell her something that is “not.” He tells her about a place of eternal peace, where strivings cease and loved ones are reunited. Mark tells his mother about an eternity of everything made right with “The Man in the sky.” In the story, Mark’s comforting words to his mother turn him into a worldwide prophet. His message is something that everybody clamors and even longs to hear. For a while, his listeners have a reason to live that goes beyond their hopeless perception of empirical reality.

What became clear to me as I watched this movie was this hopelessness of life lived without faith. If we only believe what we can see, our lives will be stale imitations of what they ought to be. Maybe this is why we are like the people in the movie, longing for something beyond what can be seen, touched, tasted, smelled, and heard.

Jesus has given us so much more to live for than what we can see right in front of us. After he entered into time and flesh just like ours, was crucified, died and was risen, Jesus ascended into heaven. That means that there is truly a Man in heaven- and he is pleading our case (Hebrews 4:14-15)!

Strange as it may sound, I’m taking a cue from Hollywood. I’m looking beyond this world, as it seems to me. I am trusting in the God-Man in heaven. Only what he says is real. Only his take on reality can satisfy you and me.

I Shall Be Free

2009-10-22T13:30:00.003-05:00

I was working the other day and I was mercifully only scheduled for the lunch shift. The great thing about only working lunch is that you can spend the entire shift dreaming about what you'll do when you finally leave for the day. In our restaurant, the dinner 'opener' shift starts showing up at 4 o'clock, so that's the target time for the lunch 'closer' to have all his work done and get out of Dodge. As you can imagine, times are tense from about 3:15 on, as you try to mentally ward off tables, praying that they can get stuck in traffic before the dinner opener shows up to relieve you of duties. Predictably enough, a man showed up in the nick of time- 3:15- to keep me company.

Now, I'm certainly among the last to complain (though I'm not above it entirely) about anybody coming in to give me money at any time. He was well within his rights to come on in and have a meal and I had nothing scheduled hard and fast for Monday night, so I was only mildly annoyed when he showed up. What did get me, however, was the fact that this dude was toting him a massive book.

Well, in spite of the fact that he had brought a sure sign of his staying longer than I had in mind, he ordered promptly and I had the food out to him before he could finish his next page. He finished eating right around 3:45 and I couldn't have been any more pleased. Then it happened. He dug into his book.

Again, I have nothing at all against reading books. I own quite a few of them. I also have nothing against reading a book during dinner if you eat by yourself. Believe it or not, though, it is quite rude to come into a restaurant and read a book to the exclusion of being polite to the waiter.

I'll paint the picture for you: There I am, walking up to him every five to ten minutes, asking if he wanted another drink, a desert- in other words, doing my job. As I walked up each time, he would put his hand up the same way I would to tell my dog to stay and tell me 'come back later'.

I wanted to be free and here's a guy insulting my dignity.

I think freedom and dignity are interlinked. When God made us, he made us in his own image and likeness. He made us to live lives of freedom and worth and he purchased that for us in the cross of Christ. In submitting to death, Jesus surrendered his own freedom and subjected himself to the utter shame and dehumanization of public crucifixion. In raising to new life, Jesus gave us ultimate freedom and ultimate worth in that we are united with him.

It's good to remember in the midst of my life that I am called to lead that there is a solid, a real hope that I shall be free.

The Good Kind of Busy

2009-10-10T14:15:00.004-05:00

I wonder if life always seemed this busy to people. There seems to always be something there to take our focus off of what is in front of us. There are even distractions within distractions. Some friends and I were talking just the other day about the great annoyance of Mafia Wars and Farmville on Facebook. Even within a social network which does little more than distract, there are meaningless distractions. Would that I could write with a straight face that I am above Facebook and similar distractions but, alas.

I am also not of the opinion that things that distract are inherently evil. Even as I write this, I am watching music on the television and staying up to date on my twitter friends. My iphone is sitting next to me, ready to sound a Radiohead ringtone that I spent otherwise valuable time editing down into a handy 30 second clip and I am liable to take a break and search for a decent football game on cable- a pursuit which I have tried a few times already in the past couple of hours. Add on top of all this that I have plenty of things I 'need to do', from Greek and Hebrew reading to preparations for our worship tomorrow night at Tapestry. Distractions are all around you and I.

You see a lot of distractions waiting tables. The one that always catches my eye looks all too typical. A man and his woman will be sitting down across from each other, enjoying a night of relaxation away from their normal routine. At least one of the two will be holding a cell phone and text messaging, Facebooking, emailing, or whatever else we do on cell phones. Here they are with the man or woman they love and they pay more attention to a baseball score than the person in front of them.

Would that I could write with a straight face that I am above similar distractions but, alas. I do the same thing at work. It is much easier for me to check baseball scores, twitter, Facebook, email, etc. than to have a real conversation with the people who are around me. God has made these people and placed me alongside them and how often I neglect these relationships because I am so willingly distracted.

I confess that I often feel more guilty when I have been diverted from the things I need to do than when I have disregarded the people God has placed around me. I all too easily value the stuff around me over the people around me. If I really believed that my coworkers, guests, bosses, family members, and friends were image-bearers of God like I say I do, I would be much more intentional in looking them in the eye and having a real conversation. Like so many things, though, I cannot do this on my own. Do you want to know something else? You can't either. We all need God's Spirit to move us to value one another. If we are busy, lets be busy with building God's kingdom one relationship at a time. To do God's work, we desperately need God's help.

Don't Forget to Tip Your Waiter...No, Seriously.

2009-09-29T10:44:00.004-05:00

So last night, I'm on the second end of a double at my beloved steak house and I had the (pleasure) of waiting on a (pleasant) newly drafted professional football player. Dr. James Andrews is the premier sports surgeon for college as well as professional athletes, and since his office is in Birmingham, our restaurant has the (pleasure) of serving these celebrities and their friends/associates/posse/buddies from time to time. So there I was, in the enviable position of waiting on an injured rookie from Mississippi, his wife, and his agent.

Well, much to my delight, the rookie asked for two shots of Louis XIII with which to begin the meal. Interestingly enough, this was the first time in my years as a waiter that I have had somebody seriously order this particular drink but I was more than happy to accommodate not only the first round of drinks, but also the second round, which bumped the total of the bill into the rarified air of four-digit (at least for a table of three).

In the process of taking care of this self-proclaimed 'god of the gridiron', I was sat with three tables within 15 minutes, which was a very welcome sight for a late summer Monday night. Now, dear reader, I must inform you that I was proverbially 'on fire' with these tables, selling wine and lobster-tails like they were going out of style. It gives you a certain type of confidence to have a guaranteed big-tipper sitting at one of your table.

If you were reading carefully, you would have noticed a very foolish and misguided word in that last sentence. That would be the word: 'guaranteed'. Nothing in life is guaranteed, and that goes for tips as well- that would be a big goose egg of a tip. In my shock, and at the encouragement of my friend, I did what I had to do (as bad as it may seem), I followed the trio out to their car, which the valet had just brought around.

I walked up feeling like a complete blood-sucking leech and informed all three guests that there had been no gratuity added to the bill. After the initial apology, the mighty man's wife reached into her pocket-book and handed me a 20 dollar bill. Now, for those who have never made a living off tips, $20 on four-digits is not a tip but a slap in the face.

I stood stunned while the cognac-drinking rookie asked me to repeat the total, which I did. Further embarrassed, his wife reached in one more time to hand me 30 more dollars. Again, I stood stunned, feeling the anger boiling to the surface, I walked back into the restaurant, handing the so-called-tip to the valet and our hostesses to get it out of my hands.

I'm not sure how to describe why getting 'stiffed' on a table upset me so much and I know it sounds petty to complain about the eventual $50 with which I quickly parted. I also realize it makes almost no sense that I would be so insulted with the money as to get it out of my hand. I've been dramatically undertipped in the past and that is just part of the business. I've also been insulted by a customer, which is also part of the business. I think the difference yesterday was that I just felt very cheap.

I think there are ways each of us devalue one another everyday. It could be as simple and seemingly harmless as placing our attention on our wants and needs over those of our families and friends. I can feel myself devalue my roommate, at least a little bit, when he is watching rugby or soccer and there's a good baseball game on tv. It is subtle, but when the stuff I want takes priority over those around me, I am every bit as self-important as our aforementioned injured athlete.

Last night I saw a fine illustration. Our football friend only cheated me out of money and a shot to my ego. Let's not cheat the people we love out of more than that.

Clean Slates and Indecision

2009-09-19T11:11:00.018-05:00

Our restaurant is in the lobby of an eight-story hotel so naturally, we take care of all the room service. The other night my shift had me answering phones and getting treys ready to bring up to our hotel-dwelling guests. This has always been a fun shift for me because not only do you have a good amount of downtime to pester your friends, but you also pretty much get to exit stage left the moment the work stops.

I had a vested interest in finishing my work early Wednesday night because my beloved Giants were due to play a huge game on ESPN, and since I live 2500 miles away, I rarely get a chance to watch them play ball.

Well, the night was wrapping up according to plan when all of a sudden, the phone rang one more time. Here's where the story gets good, at least in my mind.

Lady on the phone: I would like the chicken with french fries
Me: The chicken sandwich or the stuffed chicken breast?
Lady: Oh, well I'll take the hamburger and fries
Me (forseeing the disaster to come): Umm...you don't want the chicken anymore?
Lady: No, also I'll take a cheesecake and two sprites.
Me: Ok, anything else?
Lady: I would also like some mashed potatoes with the order.
Me: What, with the hamburger?
Lady: No, I don't want a hamburger, I want a stuffed chicken breast.

One thing I have learned about this business is that there is a time to take orders and a time to wait for the guest to make up their minds. Some people mull over these decisions as if this is their last meal. It is best to leave these people to their own devices to slow down the process of losing your own mind. Here is the great disadvantage of taking phone orders. You live at the beck-and-call of the voice on the other end, no matter how indecisive.

Anyhow, the conversation went along about like this, the lady on the other end changing her order as fast as I could write it down, addition and subtraction ebbing and flowing like the mighty Pacific Ocean, when I finally made my stand.

Me: Ma'am, I have absolutely no idea what you want. Please start over completely.

We started all over again, me and the lady on the other end. We had a clean slate and do you know what happened? She ordered half of the things she had wanted, causing two needless trips up to her room. Sometimes a clean slate is not all we need. We will destroy even a clean slate by our broken thinking, feeling, and acting.

What we need is transformation, not amnesty. That's the beauty of the gospel, right there. Jesus gives us a totally new identity and its not a clean slate. We would destroy a new beginning if he didn't change us. Jesus stands in our place and begins to change us to look like him. His Spirit living in us guides our thinking, feeling and acting.

We can no more easily change ourselves than we can start new by ourselves. It is an amazing thing that not only does our Father choose us in spite of our indecision, but so much more, he keeps no record of his children's wrong on Jesus' account.

Laboring on Labor Day

2009-09-07T13:51:00.002-05:00

So this morning, I was making tea, filling up buckets of ice and taking care of other equally glorious tasks in the true spirit of Labor Day when I noticed a fellow laborer making an off-color joke. When he saw the disinterested look on my face, he responded with what I have come to see as almost an instinctive reaction when a guy realizes he has just said something "out-of-line" to an aspiring preacher.

Now I don't know that I should advertise this, but there is rarely a joke that is so off-color as to offend me. The look of disapproval my friend must have picked up was only a disapproval of the joke itself, which lacked delivery, timing, and substance (which ingredients I normally find to be crucial to a good joke), misinterpreted as a look of disgust at the topic of conversation.

After his obligatory apology, I felt it necessary to explain myself.

Me: If you think that joke offended me, then you clearly do not know either me or my friends.

I could tell on his face that he did not believe my claim to depravity, so I told him about a dear friend who has spent time in a federal prison. I explained to him that this man is one of my closest friends, advisors, and a man I respect in ways that I cannot begin to write down.

I find it very sad that this may have been the first time a 'pastor-type' has confessed openly his depravity directly to him. Jesus came to save those who need a doctor. I need a Doctor just as much as my friend or your friend- or you are in need of healing.

The Apostle Paul was the type of guy who led off with his brokenness and incapacity to impress. Not only did he call himself the 'chief sinner', but he also called himself 'weak, foolish, ill-bred, and even 'nothing'. If you don't believe me, re-read his letters.

Paul knew that the grace of Christ is really only shown in his power working through the people and things that have no greatness or attractiveness within themselves. Even Jesus was predicted as the one in whom there was nothing earthly to commend himself to people and how often do we present ourselves in the best possible light to mask our inadequacies before God and our neighbors? I don't know about you, but I do it a lot.

I am praying that God will continue to decrease my reputation so that others will see another glimmer of him and fall deeper and deeper into his mysterious love.

Spare Me the Details...

2009-08-23T13:05:00.014-05:00

Well, loyal reader, as you can well see I have given you a much needed break from my rambling thoughts, opinions, etc. Now there is real work for me looming on the horizon as I start my last year at the beloved Beeson Divinity School. Well, expect my posts to multiply these next few months as I will be eagerly avoiding the workload that will be coming my way.

I will leave you with one story for this sunny afternoon. I was waiting on a table last Friday that was composed of a 40 year old man, his mother, and his two pre-adolescent daughters. I knew what was coming my way when he stuck his hand up to get my attention no more than 2 minutes after he requested time to examine the menu. Just to let you know, this is a completely ridiculous gesture unless you are at a Wafflehouse or a comparable establishment.

Well, I could feel somewhere in my waiter-sense they were nowhere near ready to order, which was confirmed by five minutes of silence while grandma held me hostage, agonizing over the salmon and an unnamed second option. When I was released from my stay, I brought their food out, which still covered the table when my man asked for his check.

This is also something that will tip a waiter off that you have no idea what you are doing. When people are still eating, dropping a bill that exceeds three hundred dollars is something that should never be done- ever.

So anyhow, I clear the table, take dessert orders (which was an equally agonizing process as the entrees) and finally drop the bill in the middle of the table.

After five minutes, grandma calls me over although I can plainly see that there is no method of payment accompanying the bill. In a hurried panic that would usually indicate a fire or gaping wound, she asked me if they had received the check. In an effort not to insult her intelligence, I simply picked up the bill, assuming they had snuck a credit card past my watching eye.

"You don't have our visa card yet", was the icy charge from grandma; confirming my original assumption.

Now, at this point, my patience had run out completely so I gently handed grandma the bill and began to walk away. As I made my escape, I heard all three ladies shouting my name which sounded more and more like fingernails on a chalkboard.

As I have already indicated, my patience no longer measured on the most microscopic scale and the only words running through my mind would surely have gotten me fired. My move was to turn a deaf ear to the pleas for immediate gratification. After clearing my head for a minute, I moved back to the dining room and began speaking with another table of mine, assuming that grandma could wait another thirty seconds for her credit card authorization. Not for the first time in my life, I was wrong.

Grandma walked toward me, and in further attempts to acquire my attention, she was shouting my name. Turning from my current conversation, I looked the old woman square in the eye, and simply said:

"Ma'am, I need you to sit down. I am speaking with these ladies right now. I will be right back with you in a minute."

As she sat down, subsequently paid her bill, left a fitting tip and exited, I was once again amazed. We really live in a strange situation in the 21st Century. We have an entire industry devoted to relaxation and we will pay outrageous prices for a chance to relax. Then we don't take it. We demand, we insist on our own way and we routinely fail to consider the feelings of others. It seems we can't rest no matter how much we pay to relax.

If we have such a hard time trusting waiters to do their job, how much more difficult is it to trust God for things that we need. We can't see him or hold him hostage because we have no form of payment that he needs or will accept. Once again, our desire for control overrides our need for satisfaction.

What do you think?

Swimming in Shark Infested Waters

2009-08-06T11:05:00.003-05:00

In the world of restaurant workers, someone who steals tables from others is affectionately referred to as a shark. You may be able to see him coming but he is so skilled at taking money from your little hand that the small fin pointing out of the water is only a sign of things to come. Last night, I was attacked by a wily old shark.

It started out when the hostess came to me and asked me where she ought to put my 5-top that was walking into our fine establishment to sample our fine port-of-faire. I told her which of my tables would be the best but the aforementioned senior waiter piped up and offered one of his tables in exchange for one of my tables. Because I have been lulled in by the gentle waves of his outward kindness toward me, I was unaware of the nearness of the great white.

Well, I was serving the table and to be honest, I forgot about our little trade and it seemed he had as well. He had more tables than me to wait on even though my job last night was to 'close' the restaurant, meaning I should have more tables that night. Well, I remembered our deal when another shark, you might say he's a friendly tiger shark, came looking for me to protect me from the imminent loss of money that was to ensue. He was unsuccessful in his rescue attempt.

Our senior waiter took a single man sitting by himself in exchange for my 5-top (a guaranteed table, I might remind you, fair reader). I thought nothing of it. I was wrong. This man sitting by himself apparently spends a ridiculous amount of money to eat by himself, and more importantly, he rewards the waiter handsomely each time. And our beloved senior waiter effectively, in the words of my dad, 'took the food off my table'.

So I've been harboring this bitterness this morning and I just told my new roommate about the encounter. Phil is from Australia so there are things he just doesn't understand. His response: "Man, its hard to love your enemy. This guy is obviously your enemy and its your job to love him. That's the gospel." Clearly Phil's Australian-ness has blinded him to my woe and strife.

Of course he is right in the end. This is the gospel. A man my steal money right out of my hand and then shake it and have a laugh with me but I am called to love him. That's what God did for me in Jesus Christ, he loved his enemy. That's what I need to do today and all the other todays in my life. I need to love my enemy and pray for him that God would show him how much he is loved by his Creator.

Maybe the Australian and St. Francis of Assisi were right. St. Francis prayed: "Lord make me an instrument of your peace". The gospel would be so radically shown if I could pray this right now. I need to be an instrument of peace and not an agent of strife and anger.

Isn't the gospel beautiful?

Me, Mack, and God's Revelation

2009-08-04T11:48:00.004-05:00

As I have pondered what I learned and what I experienced through reading The Shack over the past couple of weeks, I have thought about the great love that our God has for each and every one of us. It is profound, isn't it, that we may have been in the places Mack was: abused by those who are there to protect us, taking care of our own needs, enveloped in the Great Sadness that accompanies the losses of our lives, and judging not only others around us but God himself. Each of us have been in these places to one extent or another, and if you're like me, you have not handled the situations very differently than our friend Mack did in this story.

It is amazing, then, that our Creator has not given up on us in the face of our stupidity. One famous theologian describes our rebellion against the Almighty as a man standing outside yelling at and cursing the sun. While the emotions that we show may be real, they are not necessarily true. When you really think about it, it is kind of silly to think that God is waiting with bated breath to hear your opinion on the way things should be run in his world. As if he needs my opinion to keep the world spinning. That is exactly what Mack was doing in the story and exactly what I do on a day to day basis in the story of my life.

The idea of God, then, revealing himself to Mack is really a beautiful and more true than the allegory of this story may indicate. Doesn't God continually meet us in our places of pain and anger to show himself? Does God not speak through his world and his word on an ongoing basis to tell us to stop making our own judgments and trust his?

What Mack received in this story is a revealing encounter from his Triune Creator. He spoke into Mack's pain and bitterness and gave him wisdom. Is this not how God works? The God of the bible is the One who intervenes into the everyday life of his creation and gives us glimpses of his face so that we can be changed to followers of his ways and partakers of his life. In Psalm 119:135, the psalmist prays "Make your face shine upon your servant and teach me your decrees".

It is God's work of revelation that changes us into partakers in his life and followers in his ways. He may not appear to us in the same way he shows up in Mack's story but he is constantly revealing himself to each and everyone of us.

The question is are you looking for God to show himself to you or do you pretty much have this thing figured out on your own?

One Small Step Toward Heresy: Casey Reviews the Shack 1

2009-07-29T15:41:00.002-05:00

I remember when I was just settling into the city of Birmingham a couple of years ago. Moving to a new city is a bit strange because all of a sudden you have uprooted yourself from everybody you knew. Of course, that means friends and family but for me it also meant a dentist. I had no dentist and I had an aching tooth like you wouldn't believe. In fact, it got to a point that for a couple of months I would wake up in the middle of the night in extreme pain on a nightly and semi-nightly basis. I don't need to tell you that when I could touch the nerve of that tooth with my tongue or a drink of coffee or my finger it hurt like nobody's business. But you didn't come to this blog to read about my dental emergencies. You came to read about my thoughts on the controversial and best-selling book, 'The Shack' unless you have typed the wrong address into the browser, which also happens from time to time.

My apologies for skirting the issue, dear reader/interloper. This book is about pain. I won't be too much of a spoiler because I think it would do you good to give this a serious read yourself but I will tell you the basic premise. There is a guy named Mack. His childhood was sadly all too typical. Mack's father was an extremely abusive alcoholic whose insanity caused Mack to leave home as a teenager never to return again. Despite his scars, Mack is able to have a wonderful life. He marries a woman named Nan and has a handful of beautiful children to go along with a relatively comfortable lifestyle.

Mack's childhood pain is multiplied a hundred-fold when he takes his three youngest children on a camp-out. One of Mack's children is taken from him in a way that I could not possibly describe in a word or two. Mack never sees that child again and the bitterness that he had stored away as an angry young man is stirred up again. Mack is content to wallow in his misery and essentially breathe in and breathe out until the blessed day that he died. The grief and anger he felt had completely overwhelmed him and his isolation from his family and friends only made matters worse.

This book is about God's answer to our friend Mack. God shows up in a mysterious and wonderful way and speaks directly into his painful situation.

I am by no means a prophet or the son of a prophet but I am beginning more and more to think that this is exactly why there is an incredible cloud of controversy surrounding this book. I remember my painful tooth when I think about reactions such as the ones which Mark Driscoll, Al Mohler and many others have toward Young's book. I think the real issue is that Paul Young, much like the dentist that I eventually found in Birmingham, touches everybody's nerve and does not let up until the healing has begun.

The problem of pain is one that many Christian theologians and authors shutter to approach. The problem with pain is that it confuses things. As long as my church is doing well and my children are healthy; as long as the elders are off my back or people are listening to me on the radio or youtube, black and white makes plenty of sense.

The oxygen you breathe as you read The Shack is an atmosphere of pain. This is an incredibly difficult place to be moving inside of but it is the place Mack found himself in and, sadly enough, it is the place many of people both inside and outside of the church find themselves right now.

It would be good of those who are so quick to attack The Shack to provide an answer to pain themselves. Give us a word from the Lord. Not one that disproves a brother in Christ, but one that may better help those who are hurting. They may be hurting due to their own decisions. They may be hurting because their life has taken a sudden, tragic turn. It should not be that way. There is something inside of us that knows the human condition has left us in a place where we struggle to find answers. The Shack is one man's parable (note that word, it will show up again) of God's answer to him in pain.

Don't run from pain, dear reader. There is a place you can run. God drew Mack to spend some serious time with him and that is exactly what he is calling you to do even as you read this. Is there something that has happened in your life that you feel is unnatural and wrong? This is a story about the Three-In-One God appearing to a man right in the midst of pain. He is there for you too, dear reader.

Try not to react in anger to the problem of pain. Let the Great Physician touch your wounds until you are healed. The Shack is a great picture of exactly this.

I'll Tell You My Dirty Little Secret

2009-07-26T11:44:00.002-05:00

I think I've done something bad. Something I've been warned by important and august men not to do under any circumstance which may present itself. I think I may even have offended the Holy Spirit to a point of unforgiveness. If you hadn't guessed yet, I have read the Shack. It gets worse, loyal reader, I...liked...it...

I know those words will come as a shock to many and a reason to 'unsubscribe' to my plethora of subscribers, but I'm just being honest with you. I read a book about the Triune God showing up as a big black woman, a down-to-earth Jewish guy and an Asian chick. And I thought it was stellar.

For those of you still reading (thanks mom), my plan is to further alienate my followers to a point that I get cut off the internet for extreme lack of interest and give my two cents of a review spread out over the next week or so.

Expect some horrifically pro-The Shack reviews coming your way, loyal followers.

Some Days You're the Dog, Some Day's You're the Tree

2009-07-19T11:34:00.002-05:00

My Uncle John, who is my dad's lifelong best friend, is famous around our family for his awesome quotes. Dad told us whenever we could prod the story out of him about the car-sales meeting when the boss asked Uncle John if he had anything to add to the annual promotion. His response: "I say we make it bigger and better than last year". Gold.

Another of his famous lines is the title for this post. A concise statement on how life works. It is also, if I may say (and I may, since this is my blog), a much more vivid mental image than the old standard: "win some; lose some". Well, as any of us could easily say, I have had plenty of days when I have felt like the tree in this equation. I want to tell you about the last couple of days, though. Although it may not yet be August, the last couple of days have been dog days for me.

I went to work not expecting a whole lot on Friday night. Business has been slow so it would be a bit much to expect to achieve early retirement after a summer night in a fine-dining establishment. This weekend, however, the Porsche racing series has stopped off in Birmingham. First of all, can you imagine that? Not only owning a Porsche, but racing the things! Needless to say, this is at least a moderately wealthy crowd.

Well the guy that actually owns the league- club, confederation, circuit, or whatever it's called- decided to sit with his buddies at my table that night. Now, from a waiter's perspective, the really cool thing about people like this is that they are not trying to impress you. As a matter of fact, they could probably care less what a guy in a tie and an apron thinks about them. Blue collar people are the same way. We have no reason to impress each other, so it's an exchange of service, respect, food, and money.

It is usually the dudes who have a fairly good amount of money but are insecure for one reason or another who are the wrench-throwers into the situation. In an endless quest to impress valets, waiters, women, fellow politicians and the like, these guys quiz everyone around them about their knowledge and qualifications ad nausea um.

Anyhow, these guys were ridiculously easy to wait on and spent considerably more money on the check than I have in my bank account. It was good to be a dog for a night.

In fact, it was so good that I went ahead and got me a dog the next day. I've been working on stuff all morning and my little lab mutt has been sleeping the whole time. Maybe I can learn a thing or two from my dog. As I look at her, I'm sure she is not worrying about where her next meal will come from or what anyone thinks about her sleeping in public. She intuitively (however imperfectly) trusts that her master will take care of these things when the time is right.

In the midst of all my striving and whining about being the tree, my Master has been taking care of me at the right time. He has not consulted me as to when I think things need to be done. He listens probably a bit like I listen to my Delia, with concern and compassion but also completely positive that he knows what is best for me.

I want to be one of the guys that are pleasant to wait on. I want to be like my dog. I don't want to impress anybody; instead I want to trust my Master for what I need.

I'm Not Supposed to Work

2009-07-08T17:51:00.002-05:00

So I sat down at the computer and I could swear I had some sort of thing to blog about. Time rolled by and I couldn't remember what it was so I checked my email a few more times. I just now remembered what I was going to blog about so I figured I'd let you in on it.

I was at work today and my friend Matt was flipping steaks and he laughed out of nowhere. He could hardly hold back the laughter when he told me what was amusing him. Apparently the chef that I really like is not-so-popular around the kitchen. Who knew, right? Anyhow, there was apparently a meeting amongst the brain-trust of the restaurant (a meeting to which, conspicuously enough, I was not invited to). Our senior cook, who has been at the restaurant for over a decade, reported his troubles.

Cook: Our chef doesn't do any work.

Guy-In-Charge-of-the-Meeting: Excuse me, didn't catch that.

Cook: Our chef doesn't do any work, as in, he doesn't help out when there are things to be done, he is not interested in helping anyone.

GICOTM: Oh, he is not supposed to work.

If only we all could take this approach to work, wouldn't life be a whole lot simpler? Now, in all fairness, the guy in charge of the meeting really meant to say that our head chef's job is not to be constantly doing the work of a line-cook. Agreed. In the words of an old baseball coach I had, there are chiefs and indians. A chef is a chief (wow, that looks really cheesy, doesn't it?). A cook is an indian. Fair enough.

On the other hand, can you believe that these words actually came out of someone in charge's mouth? What? You don't think the guy getting paid a salary is there to work? The guy getting an hourly wage (albeit a handsome one) is expected to work but not him? Wow, I guess that explains why nearly everyone hired in the past year has turned out to be a lack-luster worker. When the guys hiring you aren't expected to help out around the place why would you be inspired to do the same? In the words of Rocky Balboa, it's simple mathematics.

The old adage that a good leader leads by example would be a good one for these guys to hear again. Leadership is interesting in that sense. I may have the absolute best ideas anyone has ever thought of but if I am not interested in actually doing them, who in their right mind would want to follow me?

Interestingly enough, this is what separates faith in Jesus from faith in any religious system. I am saying I follow a God-man who was tempted in every way I am and yet was without sin. I am saying I follow a Man who not only thought grace was a good concept but loved the doctors, lawyers, bankers, used-car-salesmen, IRS agents, strippers, prostitutes and blue collar workers of his day.

The way of Jesus is so completely different than even the best way we could devise. I want to follow and love a God who is not only a chief but so much more, became an indian and lived among his creation. I want to be caught up in the life of the one who said, after the creation had turned on him: "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do."

As Divine Creator, Jesus had no compelling reason to work other than love. He loves us and that is a good enough reason to come down and live our life and die our death. And it gets better, he now lives a life that he invites us to live in.

Our bosses may not think they are there to help but its good news to know that our God is here to do exactly that.

California Dreamin'

2009-07-05T17:06:00.009-05:00

First of all, I'd like to apologize to those who are like me that automatically have the Mamas and The Papas running through your head thanks to the title. Apparently I'm not overly sorry, however, because if you are reading this, I had already decided to post the aforementioned title. But you didn't come to this site to read my ambling thoughts on assorted hippie-folk bands (or at least I hope you didn't). I'm actually not sure why you are still reading this, but for whatever reason you are, thanks.

Anyway, I have spent the last week back in Northern California hanging out with old friends, my mom, dad, brothers, sisters-in-law and my little niece. I know from time to time a discouraging word is found on this very internet address, so I thought I would let you in on the story when I am feeling good and relaxed.

I got a chance to go to my favorite place on the face of the earth last week with my good friend Jarrett and my mom. Bodega Bay is about an hour North of San Francisco on highway one and there is relatively nothing to do in the whole region. You just go to the beach, harbor, or even on top of some rocks and look down at the ocean. It is one of the few places I have been to that allows me to see clearly.

The power and timelessness of the ocean blows me away every time I see it. To think that, according to Jesus, God provides food for every sea lion that swims is the type of thought that makes my head spin. That type of power and strength, but also the care to specially and uniquely provide for all life is incredible.

As part of my California dreamin', I have spent some time with my oldest brother's first daughter, who is not into her seventh month of life. I love watching Katie smile at all of us and giggle as if she is seeing the whole world for the first time. Everything is new for her. Her wonder and natural joy, especially when her daddy was showing her the world from his angle, point to a perfect Father whose love for us is so great that he stopped at no cost to express his love for us.

It is nice to see God at work not only as the powerful King but also as my loving Father.

Never Too Busy to Smell the Roses

2009-06-26T12:26:00.002-05:00

Well, I have started back at the old Steak House and I'm glad to say that the last two weeks have been stellar. I have gone in every shift with a more biblical understanding of hope. That's right, dear reader, I am no longer going to work with a pipe dream of somehow paying for the gas at the end of the day and the bills at the end of the month! I am going with an expectation that there is a point in going to work! There will be a reward!!! Although I have been working a bit the last couple weeks, I have not been too busy to smell the roses! Let me tell you what I mean.

The other day a couple came in for their thirty-fifth anniversary. It always makes me happy when people seem to enjoy one another after all that time. This was one of those couples. They were happy to be there. As couples are prone to do, they asked me if I would take their picture with their digital camera. After a couple failed attempts, I captured a nice, sharp photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, checked my work, smiled, handed the camera back to the woman, and went about my business.

When I walked back by the table, she wanted to show me the picture I had just taken. If you knew me, you would know that I really don't like having things repeated to me time and time again. That includes pictures I had just taken. I know it's a good picture- because I just took it. They were sweet people, though, and I didn't have anything else going on, so I humored the woman.

"Yep", I humored, "oohh, that's a good picture"

Then Mrs. Hardy wanted to show me some other things on the camera. I was afraid of this.

"Take a look at my flowers." She pleaded

Here I was, I thought, about to take a stroll through a stranger's flower-bed and act like I knew what her award-winning hydrangea-growing secrets meant. But she didn't want to show me flowers she had planted. Instead, she showed me a bouquet of red roses and pointed out that her beloved had given her these only hours before.

"Good job, Mr. Hardy!" I instinctively replied.

I thought it was a sweet scene. Then I thought about it some more. Here is a woman who feels so loved by her husband that she can't help but tell a complete stranger about the tokens of his love. She wanted me to know that her husband loved her. She wanted me to know that she was valued and treasured in his eyes. She wanted me to know that the years had not strained their love. Her husband still loved her and gave her more than she needed to express his love for her.

And another thing stood out to me. Without thinking, the focus automatically shifted from Mrs. Hardy and her red roses. It shifted off the menial tasks that I had to take care of and my defense system automatically broke down. Here I was naturally complimenting Mr. Hardy on his generosity. He had done something he must have done hundreds of times over the past three and a half decades but it was still fresh and new. It still had meaning. It still evoked feelings of joy and comfort from his wife and adoration even from an outsider.

Then I though about it some more. What a sweet picture of God's love for his children. He has given us life again today. He has given us life billions of times before, but he did it again. He has given me his word today. He has given it thousands of times before, but he did it again. He has spoken to my soul today and let me know that Jesus' death stands for the death I deserved and his life stands for mine. He has spoken to me in this way too many times to count, but he did it again today!

His love for us is like Mr. Hardy's love for his wife. Whatever struggles they have had along the way, the years have only strengthened their love. Somehow, too, it is all still new. The novelty of a dozen roses never fades away. The novelty of new life in Jesus should fade away no less!

Wherever you're at today, don't be too busy to stop and smell the roses.

Oh, What a Night...

2009-06-13T08:37:00.002-05:00

Every now and again I have a perfect storm of things come together in a way that I can't help but laugh. As I wrote in my previous post, the new restaurant was wildly unsuccessful for me. I am not saying that I have regrets because I met people there that I hope to keep up with that i never would have met otherwise. I also saw some things that made me have a new found appreciation for the old Steak House where I'm going back. I literally saw a guy holding a raw piece of meat put it down to make a salad (without washing his hands in-between). I mean, seriously, where else are you gonna see something like that?

So there I was yesterday, in my second-to-last night at this God-(or at least customer) forsaken establishment and, oddly enough, the other guy that was supposed to help set up didn't show to help me. No worries, he's still a good person, and, truth be told, I'd rather set-up by myself, it gives me time by myself which is very useful for an introvert, as I am learning. The really good news then, was that I could get the first table that walked in! Yippee!!

So in came my guests, and much to their...well, I'm not sure what caused it, but once I made the sales-pitch, they were out the door. Oh well, I didn't take it personally, I mean, our prices are a bit high, so no worries, right? Another couple came in about ten minutes later and they loved our food, my service, and the prices didn't seem to throw them for a loop. I was, as they say, 'back in the saddle'.

There was more good news. My friend Joanna and I were going to work a table of sixteen together. That's good news because she understands what needs to be done and we are usually on the same page. We decided last night that I would do all the talking and she would do all the beverage service. After I went through the menu with these slightly intoxicated people, I stood and answered questions for fifteen or twenty minutes. No worries, after all, its my job and I was quick with the jokes last night.

Well, thanks to some drinks, a handy sales-pitch and the will of God, we were rocking this table. Almost everybody had one appetizer and most had two. Everything was running smooth as silk and I had just rung in the sixteen entrees when it happened. The sky opened up and the rain was being tossed about by the howling wind. It was a type of storm that could only happen in a Southern summer. It was, to use a word correctly, 'awesome'.

What was less awe-inspiring to me at that moment was the fact that the power went off. That's right, we don't have a generator, so now we are out of power for...the rest of the night. When I went to the kitchen to ask our beloved chef if he was indeed making our food, I got a 'come back later' invitation. I got that same invitation a couple of more times before I finally found out that our entrees were about to leave the kitchen.

Joanna and I were extremely fortunate. Our people were relaxed, understood what was going on and continued to drink. They weren't going to let unavoidable circumstances stand in their way of having a good time. I genuinely liked these people and it was a good thing they were so relaxed because in all the confusion of making and serving food in the dark, we were a rare tuna away from perfection.

When I told the chef and my manager that we needed a tuna 'on the fly', they both questioned me. 'Are you sure'? 'Didn't you order 4 tunas?' They asked me questions as I could barely see their faces. Do you really think I remember out of sixteen people how many people ordered tuna when I am waiting on a table in the dark? Really? Oh, but the conversation persisted.

Me: "Dude, all I know is that there's a guy missing a rare tuna"
They: "Are you sure"
Me: "Yeah, I'm fairly certain that there's a guy without a tuna who ordered a tuna. I don't know or care whose fault it is, but I am almost positive that there is a man without food in front of him."
They: "Well, can you check and make sure?"
Me: "Ok I will walk back to the table to make sure, if that'll make you feel better; in the meantime, please start a rare tuna".

Finally, we brought our patient guest a rare tuna, which he gleefully partook of. Catastrophe averted. Problem solved. Joanna and I started to tally up the bill- which was interesting, as the party wanted to split the bill unevenly amongst nine people- all credit cards.

When the chaos was finally over, Chris and I had a quick jack and coke and we cleaned up the restaurant. They wanted me to stay for a drink when we were finished but I had to go home. All the talking and stress had rendered this poor introvert completely useless. I got into my car and called my brother to tell him about my experience.

About a half-mile from my apartment, I got pulled over by a policeman (yes this is the same night). Of course, my registration was due two weeks ago and he was not pleased about my California drivers license or the fact that I hadn't printed off my proof of insurance for a couple of months. Geez, I thought. This is like a line out of a country song. When he came back from his cruiser, he told me he would 'do me a solid' and let me take care of this stuff without further penalty. He was a good guy, too.

When I finally got home, I had to thank God that he had shown me the end of myself all day and proved one more time that he would come through in his own way. There hasn't been a promise of an easy life but he has promised that he is working out everything for my ultimate good because I am found in Jesus. It was a night of my being reminded of my limits and his boundless power. It was a solid reminder that I apparently needed.

Trusting God is hard sometimes but I am learning.

I'm Going Back...

2009-06-09T11:48:00.003-05:00

My recent re-fascination with country music has caused me to remember a song that Randy Travis used to sing. I don't know if he still sings it, but I do know that he used to sing it. The chorus to the song suits my general state of mind over the past few weeks.

I'm going back to a better class of loser
This up-town living's really got me down
I need friends who don't pay their bills on home computers
And who buy their coffee beans already ground
You think it's disgraceful that they drink three-dollar wine
But a better class of loser suits me fine

The restaurant I've been working at has made me long for a re-awakening of the better class of loser inside of me. I know that some measure of elitism has crept into my own attitude and I really hate it. I don't like looking down on people who want sweet tea. Some people don't want to spend a truckload of money on wine every time they go out to dinner. That's ok with me. I don't like to do that either, and even if I somehow came across a lot of money, I guarantee that I would rather have a beer or a Jack and coke five times before I have a bottle of wine once.

The words of the chorus do make me laugh. I empathize with the first couple of lines. I don't mind living outside of town and outside of the suburbs. I guess that's just the way I was raised. I don't like looking out the window and seeing other houses or even other people. City living gets me down from time to time.

I do pay my bills on home computers. In fact, sometimes I even pay them on my iphone. Also, anyone who knows me or anyone in my family would be well-aware that I would NEVER buy my coffee beans already ground. I'll grind them myself, thank you very much. The difference in taste is, as my dad (and Ray Charles before him) would say 'night and day' between whole bean and pre-ground coffee.

Come to think of it, I also think it's crazy to drink three dollar wine. Why not just buy some well-crafted grape juice? If you're going to spend money on wine, you may as well get some good stuff. That's just my opinion, though. I won't consider it disgraceful if you are a three-dollar wine drinker. Maybe crazy, but certainly not disgraceful.

All this to say that I'm headed back where I belong. Randy Travis may call it a better class of loser and you may agree. I'm going back all the same. If I have to serve tables (which, apparently I do) for the time being, I would rather just serve them at alongside my fellow better class of loser friends.

So the new restaurant experiment is coming to an end. I had a good time and worked with some good people. Now its time to go back to the people I have come to know and love in Birmingham. You may call us a better class of losers, and that's ok with me. I'm going back.

I'm On My Way

2009-06-05T13:52:00.003-05:00

So I'm pretty sure I need to sit down and write a blog post. It's been too long and I've literally tried to write over the past few weeks four or five times. Forgive me, then, if this post seems a bit forced but I feel like I have something I need to say, something that needs to move past my fingers and into a concrete reality.

Do you ever feel like that, dear reader? Like there is something inside you that needs to be expressed and that, somehow, in expressing what is inside, you might just be able to understand it a little better? And in understanding that part of you, you might understand the whole of you better. In understanding the whole of you better, you might be able, if even for a second, to see something beyond yourself. You might even be able to get a glimpse into the divine. Anyway, that's how I feel right now.

So please excuse me if my thoughts are a bit muddled. I'm still a pilgrim along the path to where I am going. Sometimes I see life like what Paul Simon wrote "I'm on my way, I don't know where I'm going". That's life lived in perpetual transition. I've not yet arrived. I am a student. I live in an apartment with some roommates. I hope that's not the definition of arriving. But I also hope I have some concept of where I am going.

I hope I am looking for my Father in all the places I find myself. In a story. In a song. In a conversation. In a night at work. I count everything as a victory if I can get a better picture of where I am going and Who I am going toward. I hope that in life, in love and in the pursuit of the One I'm headed toward I can somehow, someway experience, even in these ordinary moments, a glimpse, a glimmer or a ray of light that tells me to keep moving. What I am has yet to be revealed but I have a promise that keeps me moving. Jesus told me he'd never leave me. He knows where he is taking me and that's good news, even when I feel more like Paul Simon than the Apostle Paul.

I am so intense.

2009-05-24T10:54:00.003-05:00

As you well know, dear reader, I work at a new restaurant. Our owner planned what we call a 'soft opening'. The idea is that you take your time letting your people adjust to a new place, new menu and new coworkers. It has been an interesting move so far and probably a good thing Tom took his time.

If it is easy to lie on a resume in another walk of life, it probably pales in comparison to what you can do in a restaurant. One of our original 'bartenders' asked a manager the second week if a drink that is ordered 'on the rocks' always gets ice. Yikes. I could just imagine waiting on a table full of drinks from her with a full section on a Friday night. Another guy, a fellow server, was so out of place that he would need help clearing off a two-top. Just to let you know, any server should be able to clear a two-top in their sleep.

Anyhow, the staff we have now is really coming together. The soft opening also looks like its coming to an end. The other day we were reviewed in the Birmingham News. I sat down to read the article and the review began to look eerily familiar. I began to recognize these fine patrons when they related an unfortunate instance they had encountered while sitting at my table. There was *gasp* somebody smoking a cigarette down on the street who so offended them that they threatened to pour water down from the terrace onto the evil tobacco imbiber's weapon of mass-destruction.

"Sorry ma'am, I'm pretty sure this block was a bit too expensive for us to buy up the whole thing and outlaw smoking on
the premises."

Beside the regrettable proximity to the Marlbro Man, the reviewers were positive about their experience. They even went so far as to compliment my service, which also made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. They said that I was knowledgeable and they recounted the episode of my refunding their undercooked, albeit 3/4 eaten creme brule. They did use one word that surprised me a bit. They used the word 'intense'.

The more I thought about it, they were probably right about that. There is not much I do that is half-hearted. I suppose I am a bit intense. It was how I was brought up. My brothers are intense. My mom and dad are intense. The more I thought about it, the happier I have been with this description. I am glad they have the impression that I take what I do seriously. I know it may not be curing cancer but I think if you were paying all that money for a meal that you will digest in under 24 hours, the least I could do is to know what I am talking about and give you confidence that your experience is important to me.

For better or worse, this is what I do at this point of my life. It may not seem important to you but this is the place God has me right now. It is also how I pay the bills. If I seem a bit overly committed to the overall cause, then so be it. You fight the battle against Phillip Morris and I'll wait tables, just don't be surprised if I seem to care about my job. It runs in the family.

Good News for People Like Us

2009-05-15T11:37:00.003-05:00

So last night I was waiting tables, oddly enough, and a couple sat down at in friend's section. He was planning on leaving, so he asked if I would pick them up for him. I am usually averse to this exercise because when an experienced waiter passes off a table that usually means that the upcoming experience will not be spectacular. Following the old adage, 'beggars can't be choosers', I went ahead and took the table.
Well, as I approached the table, the stare that I began to encounter caused me to curse my beggar status for a moment or two. It was obvious in a moment that there was nobody on the face of the earth that could possibly please this couple. Being a dutiful waiter, however, I gave it the old 'college try'. No dice.
Something happens to a certain type of person when they have to wait for a minute longer than they had anticipated. They become inconsolable in a prideful sort of way. First he asked for cocktail sauce for the oysters. Our blessed chef does not allow cocktail sauce to be made, so I offered to make my guest some horseradish sauce (which is also anathema, but I'm a rebel). No dice. He asked if we had ketchup. Again, our beloved chef does not keep heinz on hand; we do have a spiced ketchup downstairs- I offered to fetch some for him. No dice.
When he asked how the tomato soup was, I responded truthfully that I don't like tomatoes, but our chef does a terrific job, so I'm sure it is great. Our aforementioned guest asked for a sample. I gladly brought him a taste, to which he turned up his nose, 'its ok, it tastes like tomatoes'. That's when I started to get annoyed. What did you expect it to taste like? It's TOMATO SOUP!!! Hey, I've been disregarded by people in much higher social positions than this dude. Mayors have looked down on me. Councilmen have been unhappy with my service. Somehow the honor of being ran around by this guy escaped me.
Well, needless to say, they were passive-aggressively upset with everything that happened. The dessert options didn't sound good at all (and I can sell a dessert, Jack!). So they paid out and went on their not-so-merry way. In their haste to leave my company, the young lady left her iphone.
I do have to say that a couple of unhelpful things ran through my mind when I remembered what my life is about. My life is about love for the enemy. My life is about accepting love from the God whom I made my enemy. My life is about loving my enemies like God loves his enemies. I think that at least means walking downstairs and across the street to deliver a forgotten device.
When I had crossed the street and delivered her iphone, for the first time in the evening, they were grateful. The man who had been my sworn enemy even shook my hand. I remembered the fact that, when I had done much more to God than passive-aggressively disregarding him, he did much more for me than delivering an iphone.
I always choose my own path. Along with everyone else, I decide that my own plan was superior to the Maker's design. I run far from my Father like the prodigal son. He doesn't hold it against me when I come back broken and dirty again and again. He has been waiting for me because of his extraordinary, supernatural love. He embraces me and kisses me repeatedly because He is so happy to have me home again.
Let people disregard me, I will love them. Let people think little of me, my Father loves me. That's really good news for people like us.

Trickle Drops

2009-05-10T11:50:00.000-05:00

Trickle drops! my blue veins leaving!
O drops of me! trickle, slow drops,
Candid from me falling, drip, bleeding drops,
From wounds made to free you whence you were
prison’d,
From my face, from my forehead and lips,
From my breast, from within where I was
conceal’d, press forth red drops,
confession drops,
Stain every page, stain every song I sing, every
word I say, bloody drops,
Let them know your scarlet heat, let them glisten,
Saturate them with yourself all ashamed and wet,
Glow upon all I have written or shall write,
bleeding drops,
Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops.
-Walt Whitman

It has still been slow at the restaurant so lately I’ve been bringing a book of poems by Walt Whitman. The other day I came across this poem and I have been thinking about it ever since. Like any good poem, the meaning is somewhat hidden and obscured while at the same time clear as the morning sun.
When I first read it, I was thinking about Jesus. His blood that he shed was for me, for you, for all of us. I though of Jesus, pouring out himself for us. These ‘confession drops’ were somewhat concealed, then flowed out to free us from our own prison. Just like his blood was held before it was freed, so we were held in need of being freed from a prison of our own making. And these drops glow upon all that we write, thing, sing and speak. They color our world.
As I kept reading, however, I started thinking that maybe Whitman simply meant to speak of himself. Could it be that Whitman saw in the common experience of bleeding something more than we think of? I pictured him watching blood leave his own body. As he bled, he realized that a part of his own self was leaving. It was like a confession because our blood is as true and basic a part of who we are as anything else.
Then I was reading the first chapter of John this morning and I saw this statement: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us”. Jesus lived in our skin. His blood was like our blood. He lived like we live. The reason his blood is so precious- the reason it saturates our experience- is because of who he is.
Jesus made us and then he made himself like us. I want to worship like Walt Whitman here. Let it all be seen in the light of his precious blood, the bleeding drops, falling for you and me. For all of us.

I'll be back in one minute.

2009-05-04T11:24:00.002-05:00

I learned from Kent that you don't apologize to tables. Ever notice that? For instance, if I make a table wait longer than they should, I say, 'thanks for your patience, I'll be right back in one minute.' Also, instead of saying, 'so sorry that steak is cold', we instead say 'yeah, no worries, we'll get right to work on that, you're right.' Sadly, I did have to say that to someone this weekend- yikes!
Anyhow, I'm not apologizing here because that would be out of character. What I am saying is that my blog will be being updated much more when I get done with my current 30-page paper and other various and sundry assignments that help me close out the semester on a high note.

So worry not, faithful. I'll be back in one minute.

Please Tell Me There Is More Than This

2009-04-19T10:51:00.008-05:00

So things are picking up slowly but surely at the new restaurant (and I emphasize the word 'slowly'). I have started to find my way there, had some incredibly slow shifts along with some decent nights. I am sitting here at Starbucks doing some reading, and consequently, some thinking. I've been thinking about the image of God on each one of us. I've been thinking about what the girl sitting across from me is reading entitled 'Do Me'. Is that making her think? Maybe. But more and more I've been thinking about reality and what it means to be human. And I'm also thinking about that annoying two-top I had last night.
I'm working on a paper on John Calvin's view on the image of God, which, for me is like a semi-vacation. Somewhere in his writing, he mentioned something that reminded me of an ancient philosopher named Anselm. Anselm is known for his proof of the existence of God which basically says that we all have something within ourselves which desires and aches for something grander than the life we experience on a day to day basis. This longing should show us that there is a reality we are wanting, aching for that was planted in us by none other than God.
Say what you will about Anselm, I love this thought. More than helping me think, this thought helps me live. I need to know that even the best times I have had in my life (and I feel like I've had some GREAT times) are only a shade and a shadow of what I was really created to live like. Deep down no matter how 'content' we are or can be with a two car garage, two-and-a-half kids and a BMW, none of us are completely content.
If you don't believe me, you should come to work with me some day. The new restaurant is in one of the most wealthy communities in our nation. Poverty means driving a domestic car. I'm not lying. Last night, I had a table of four who 'had it all'. They were in town to ride a bike race this morning, in shape and good looking, all of them. Clearly they had quite a bit of money, as they droned on about what super-wealthy parties they had attended. They were putting on a great front. All seemed perfect in their little worlds.
Then one of the ladies gave it away. 'Tell the owner (who, of course, is a close personal friend of theirs) that one of these cheeses is just so common and bourgeois'. Wow. Really? Something tells me that Anselm was right all those years ago. No matter how sleek and 'happy' we seem to be in our lives, we long for something more. We need something more. We are longing for our Maker.
Anselm wrote this: 'I sought after goodness, and lo, here is turmoil; I was going towards God, and I was my own impediment. I sought for peace within myself, and in the depths of my heart I found trouble and sorrow.' I think he was right. One more thing he wrote:

Let me seek you by desiring you,
and desire you by seeking you;
let me find you by loving you,
and love you in finding you.

Anselm was right.

A Waiter's Job Is Never Done- Even While He Sleeps

2009-04-10T23:00:00.004-05:00

Anyone who has waited tables has experienced the dreaded ‘waiter dream’. Mitchell would tell me about his dream and it was awesome. It was recurring and it would go something like this: The hotel needs a waiter to serve room service. Instead of being a normal ‘drop and go’ experience, however, Mitchell had to wait on 8 floors of people hand and foot, properly coursing up to 150 tables at one time. Yikes.

My dream used to be pretty chilling as well. We had put a grassy-knoll seating section back behind the kitchen. Now, you have to understand that I was working at the time in a restaurant with almost all hot plates. Here I was hiking out 2-300 yards up a hill with blazing hot plates and when I would finally arrive at the table/blanket, of course, there was no place to put the plates. Horrifying, right?

Well, even though I have only been working at the new restaurant for only three weeks, it happened last night. This was mild as compared to most waiter dreams but I’m fairly certain I’m the first one in the new restaurant to have a dream about the place. My dream, essentially, was that I had somehow slept in to be late to my shift. That would be a challenge to say the least, considering we don’t have to be there ‘till 4 in the afternoon, but I did it anyways.

I guess this means I am where I belong. Today is my 25th birthday and Good Friday. I have plenty to think about, and here I am at the end of the day, listening to the Giants game on my iphone and stressing out about my silly dream that woke me up in a panic last night.

I’ve been trying to come up with a pithy moral to the story but I’m afraid I only have a solemn warning. The next time you are in a restaurant, be sure to treat your server right. Call them by their name. Take a recommendation or two. Thank them for their service. By all means tip them 20%. Trust me, they will dream about the place regardless. Make sure that even if you’re not part of the solution, you are not part of the problem!

Reflections on a Night Off

2009-04-08T21:17:00.002-05:00

So tonight I took advantage of one of the positive things about working in a restaurant. If there's no work to be done, people get to go home. It works out for everybody that way. Tonight I get to go home and somebody gets to double whatever money they were going to make otherwise. So I came home and I've been sitting on the couch watching baseball. I love this time of year.

Today I was in a ridiculously good mood. I am not sure if it was that I started the day by preaching in class on John 20:21, which was awesome, or if it was the productive day I had. Maybe it was the beautiful weather in Birmingham today or all the coffee I had throughout the day. Something was putting me in a really good mood.

Even after I went to work I felt good. Nothing could break my groove with the theme music of the mighty Tower of Power. Even the lame-o couple I waited on couldn't break my rhythm. I got them both a glass of Merlot and an appetizer and was repaid with a barrage of questions and disapproval about the wine. Today I couldn't care less. It was brilliant, really.

It is good to have a night off every now and again. Time to watch some more baseball and grab another beer. I love this time of year.

The 'Me Monster'

2009-04-02T12:31:00.007-05:00

So I was watching one of my favorite comedians, Brian Regan, the other day. His shtick on self-importance is absolutely hilarious. I think we've all seen the guy who is an aficionado on all things under the sun (sorry, also including the sun and beyond the sun). You have to love somebody who thinks they are special and unique.

There are two types of aficionados in my understanding. The first is that prototypical 'Me Monster' that Regan characterizes. This guy is more than willing to tell you about his opinion (which hardly seems like an opinion, more like a judgement) on any matter that should come your way. A friend of mine is like this. I was telling a story to he and some other friends about how I was so excited about lifting 225 pounds (back in the day). He cuts me off to inform us that he used to lift 450 pounds when he was in his prime. Yeah, I think we all know this guy.

The second type of aficionado is the guy I had at one of my tables last night. I offer to all my tables that I would be more than willing to suggest a glass of wine or to simply retrieve what they request. Well, he looks at me and informs me that he is quite capable of ordering his own wine, thanks very much. O.K...pretty sure that's why I also told you that I would be willing to retrieve what you pick out for yourself.

As the evening progressed, I could tell that every time I went by the table he was annoyed by my very presence (except, oddly enough, when I brought out their main course). When his date ordered the only glass of Cab we have on the list, we were graced by his approval of what she ordered. Great. Fantastic. Thanks for agreeing. Did you not hear me when I just informed her that this was the only Cab on the list? But, as always, your opinion is the only one out of three that has any validity.

This silent self-important person reminded me a lot of the way I function on a day to day basis. Sure, I may keep my opinion to myself and not drivel on and on (except on this blog), but that does not mean that I am free of all my self-importance. I have to constantly combat the urge to make judgements about others. I have to keep on my guard against sizing people up and placing them, in level of importance, below my lofty, albeit silent, aficionado status.

Unlike the prototypical 'Me Monster', who is relatively easy to size up and handle (agree with what they are saying and look for the escape hatch), we silent self-important aficionados cannot be appeased without finding fault in others.

I'm so glad that Jesus loves the prototypical and silent aficionados equally. When I am thinking about what incredible patience and forgiveness he constantly exercises with me, it is much easier to put up with any aficionado, even myself.

I got to exercise some patience with my silent self-important aficionado last night: predictably enough, he was a lame tipper!

The Arrival of the Waiter/Theologian

2009-03-29T11:48:00.005-05:00

I think I'm kind of a niche player. I guess me and some of my friends. Matt is also a waiter/theologian. Garrett is also a waiter/theologian. Jay has been a waiter/theologian. Come to think of it, I guess I'm really not treading on new ground here. And when you come right down to it, aren't we all theologians?

I don't mean that we should all spend the rest of our lives reading the works of John Calvin, John Wesley or Oprah. I think at least two out of three of those would be a helpful exercise (I'll leave it to your imagination to wonder who I mean). I think these theologians have some very helpful things to say and we could all use some good thinking by good thinkers from time to time. My point is that you don't have to read

'theological' books to be a theologian. You don't even have to know what the term means to be a theologian!

If I'm being honest, I'll tell you I have mixed feelings about what I have come to understand. On one hand I think it's freeing and exciting to think about the fact that all of our thoughts have to do with God, which means that we are constantly doing theology. On the other hand, I am a bit frightened by the fact that it is so easy to push God to the margins of our minds. We do that constantly.

Whether you realized it or not when you started to read this post, you are constantly 'doing theology'. You are deciding whether or not to trust God. Is what he said about loving my neighbor really true? Is what he said about loving my enemy really true? Does he really intend

to lead me through this day or should I just do what I feel is right, without consulting him? All of these little decisions belie our ideas that theology is something for somebody else.

So I am a waiter/theologian. I can't do either one in isolation. We were made to be whole people. We were made physical and spiritual. You may be a wife/theologian, a husband/theologian, a salesman/theologian, a sportswriter/theologian, or a public-relations/theologian. My point is that all of us are theologians whether we realize it or not.

So whether we are good theologians or bad theologians, we are theologians. Let's be good theologians and listen to God.

I Don't Wanna Wait In Vain...

2009-03-23T23:24:00.003-05:00

So I'm not exactly sure what it is about him, but lately I've been drawn to Bob Marley. One of his songs goes like this: "I don't wanna wait in vain for your love". It's fitting, I think. I don't wanna wait in vain for love. I also don't wanna wait in vain to get a table. Some nights i feel like I'm waiting in vain for both.

Last night was one of those nights. After leaving the friendly confines of the restaurant I've been at for the entirety of my time in Birmingham, all we've done so far at the new place is training. There is nothing worse to a restaurant worker than going to work knowing for sure that you will do nothing and make no money but that's been what it has been like over the past couple of weeks. Sunday night got to me.

We are opening the doors this week, which is beyond exciting, and last night was the first sort of test for us. "Friends and family night". That means that the owner invites his friends and family (at least those who have money) to come and eat for free. As you can well imagine, there was plenty of waiting in vain involved in my Sunday night.

After working 6 1/2 hours, I realized that I had just completely wasted that time. There were no less than 20 of us for 50 people! Translation: make no money and stand around the whole time trying to look busy. Translation into Bob Marley language: "Waiting in vain".

I am a very impatient person. I think after 24 years God decided to do something about that. The past year of my life has been filled with waiting. Seemingly in vain. But here's where the rubber meets the road. Will I, will we trust Him when we seem to be waiting in vain? Has He ever let me down in the past? Hasn't He promised to never leave me and never forsake me? Has He not already given me His Son and with Him all things?

Bob was right. I don't wanna wait in vain. The good news is that I have never waited in vain. Neither have you. Isn't the gospel sweet?

The Times, They Are Changin

2009-03-17T16:08:00.003-05:00

After two and a half years working at the restaurant, I finally called it quits last night. I'm moving to a new place with new faces and yet things are still the same. I will still be double-sat. I will still be frustrated with questions. I will still be working in a restaurant so things will not be perfect.

A friend of mine asked me yesterday why I would leave our current restaurant only to find another job waiting tables. I told her I had my reasons, but she was unsatisfied with that answer. Why would you move to a new place with new people and the same problems?

I've been thinking about that same question lately and I think I have some sort of answer. There is not a perfect job out there. If the San Francisco Giants called me today and said they needed a new second-baseman, I would struggle with the travel. If I was getting paid for my work at Tapestry (which I love), I would soon realize that a community full of sinners is no place to look for ultimate satisfaction.

Mick Jager said it best when he simply said "I can't get no satisfaction". He was a rock star when he wrote that. I think the issue is not whether or not we get the right job, the right relationships or the right circumstances. We will never be truly satisfied here while we wait to be made new.

So that's my answer. Among other jobs I could be doing instead of waiting tables, I like my job. It's a job full of interesting and humbling circumstances. It's anything but perfect, so it goes right along with the rest of my life.

There will be a day, though, when everything is going to be made perfect. I am waiting for the day when Jesus comes back and makes good on the promise he bought with his death on the cross. I am waiting for the revealing of the sons of God.

For the time being, I'll keep waiting tables and looking for Jesus.

Early Rising

2009-03-11T07:45:00.002-05:00

So this morning I got up early which is strange for any waiter, even a spiritual waiter. I decided to go for a run. Now when I say early, I mean that the sun still had an hour to come up when I started running. As I was running I was doing some thinking.

I thought about a guy back in my college days talking about Psalm 19, which is a great psalm. The first half talks about how God shows himself in the world and the second half talks about how he shows himself in his word. It was the fourth and fifth verses that I was thinking about as Buddy Holly was accompanying me on my ipod. 'In (the heavens) he has set a tent for the sun, which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber.'

I was thinking about my old classmate Ray. He told us all about the day of his wedding (before the wedding, that is) and the incredible energy he felt. He felt like a caged animal and he was so excited when he finally got to walk down the aisle and take the hand of his smiling bride. Well that's the way the sun feels every morning! Can you imagine the sun looking over at his maker- 'Is it time yet?' The sun might be like an impatient two-top too, 'Is my food ready yet?'

In the old days of people following Jesus, they saw this as pointing to the Son of God himself. They imagined the Son on the third day after his death and burial looking to the Father- 'Is it time yet?' 'Is it time to show that you approve of and ratify this new and lasting love-bond between us and our people?'

Anyhow, I kept running and the ipod kept rolling out songs to keep me motivated and I thought about what I am waiting for. I am always waiting on people who are waiting on their food. It seems like I'm always waiting on a semester to be done; for my scholastic career to come to an end. I'm waiting to get on with my life and out of this transitional stage or whatever the heck it is.

I think in the end, just like when I was running this morning, just like the sun does morning by morning and like Jesus must have done in the wee hours of the morning, I am waiting for the sun to rise. I am waiting for a new day. I am waiting for the day when the love-bond Jesus made with me will come to full completion. I am waiting for the sons of God to be revealed. I am waiting to be home.

Off and Running

2009-03-10T17:20:00.002-05:00

This is an interesting time for me. I just got a new job after being at my last restaurant for 2 and 1/2 years. We're opening in a week or two and I'm really excited about it.

I decided to venture beyond the friendly confines of recklessragingfury.blogspot.com to accompany this move and I hope you will give me a shot as I let you know my thoughts, opinions, experiences and complaints about a life of being a spiritual waiter.