Ministry round table

Agent S invited me to a 'round table discussion' event at Hardin Simmons University. It was a luncheon/discussion with four area ministers within the benevolent arena talking about their ministries to a crowd of students from the Logsdon School of Theology. Initially I feared going - on the assumption that I'd be listening to a bunch of do-gooder talk laced with buzz words I shun. Words like social-ministry, high-needs, benevolence, and programs. Much to my surprise, those words were used, but only few and far between. And I think they were used due to lack of any better words and not out of sterile hearts. The overall message was great. And I now truly feel that the new vibe of the church culture is to get off its ass, look at the neighborhood around them, and serve those who live in that neighborhood. This is such a good thing for me as I was beginning to think that nothing good could come from church culture. So much for absolutes.

I feel like such a weird ass. I'm not wanting to paint words about myself nor place myself on a pedestal. But sometimes I feel like some sort of John the Baptist-type, eating my bugs and wearing what's practical and comfortable regardless how freak-a-zoid that is to much of my society. Yet sometimes there's need to relate to the anti-Johns, churchy, and student types. As if any of us are perfect. I can remember when I was a kid and some local family at our church would return from the mission field in Africa. Man, they were like aliens. Their clothes were out of date/style, their kids were freaks, and they didn't know how to relate to our pop-culture referenced communication. I felt like those African missionaries today...walking into a culture I once identified with but can't no more. But everyone there went way out of their way to make me (one of the 3 "invited guests") feel more than welcome. As I walked in a guy at the door ushered me to the front of the food line and had me cut in front of the students, to which I totally felt uneasy about but the students were good sports.

Then Agent S allowed me to sit at the table reserved for the speakers & host. The host talked to me, asked who I was, etc. Then he made a comment if I wanted to say anything to the room of 75-100 folks. Hell no. I'm undercover. I'm a horrible public speaker. And I always find some sort of way to insert a cuss word in disguise. And THIS wasn't the kind of crowd that would find a cuss word funny. They were like - wearing ties and skirts and all. And I'm thankful I had enough sense to wear my one and only button-down shirt with a collar as opposed to the usual ragged T-shirt. There's only ONE time in my entire existence where I was TOLD BY GOD (and I mean that literally) to address a crowd. It was my last church (charismatic club) where the members were constantly helping themselves to our food pantry to the poor that I was operating. And all were helping themselves out of inconvienence (too lazy & cheap to walk to the store across the street), not out of poverty or humbleness. The pastor of izzy tried getting this situation fixed with the pastor of the church a few years back...to no avail. Yet we kept having large, expensive quantities of food go missing before we'd open up to the izzy family. So...the CEO makes it clear for ME to publically address this and how to handle it, etc. And hating to speak, I performed my best Jonah immitation and RAN LIKE HELL. But some sort of fish appeared in my life and forced my brain on the right track. I made my speech...with directness and love. And all went well...so mission accomplished. And I made the comment of "sometimes we all need a good Balaam's Ass-whipping". And I've never been invited to speak since.

The weirdest encounter of the whole meeting was that sitting with me at the table was one of the other two invited guests - a man that I recognized as Obi-Wan's pastor. Obi-Wan has spoke many critical words about this young gentleman. And I, not wanting to join anyone's negative crusade rant, have defended this pastor - generally giving the guy the benefit of the doubt. To which Obi-Wan insists the guy is lousy. After meeting this pastor briefly I'm not so sure that Obi-Wan's claim is incorrect. But I won't get involved in that. Ahh...the soap opera of a small town like the mother city...If this guy only knew how many times I've defended him.

Along with Agent S, the board panel featured Dave Terrace, director of the largest, most well known ministry to poor people in the mother city, L&C. We have a history together. A brief and probably unresolved one. Three years ago izzy was supposed to merge with L&C. A merge I was never excited about and I'm glad never happened. It was obvious that once we merged that izzy was to be completely disolved and The Bossman, Agent Wife, myself, and a few others were expected to be nothing more than 'employees' of this new super ministry. Our hearts,dreams, and desires were to become L&C's. The Bossman finally saw the light and decided at the last minute to not merge - a decision that's given us a black mark in the mother city or so I feel. The soap opera continues...

Overall, I was very glad to be there if anything, to support S. But as it turned out, my eyes were opened to the changing heart of the church culture by and large. I'm sure there are still subtle territorial agendas within individual ministries across the mother city, but those territorial boundaries are slowly being erased.

The Legend of "Finger" Joe

**We begin a new series here on the Agent B Files. "The Legend of..." posts will report on the many 'characters' from the "izzy" group family's past (izzy=nickname of the ministry I'm associated with). There are many in the izzy family - too many to mention. These reports will be presented when there's recent contact with the individual...or if there's a positive reason to mention someone from the past as I generally try to avoid nostalgia. The September 6th, 2005 entry (titled "Momo") is the first unofficial post in the series, so we begin with the second...**

I was running a failed errand today in the Millenium Falcon. At the corner of E. Hwy 80 & Judge Ely I see "Finger Joe" flying a sign. So I open the door to yell at him. My electric window isn't working. Most every electric gizmo in the Falcon fails one month or the other, but she'll still outrun the empire.

Finger Joe is an old standby from the old, old, ancient izzy days. Even back when The Bossman and some others use to gather at a homeless camp known as the hole in the wall. He'd come by the church building very rarely. His memorable schtick was that his middle finger on his left hand was injured. He couldn't move it. He could close all of his fingers on that hand but the middle one...which stuck straight out. And he'd always introduce himself or start a conversation with something like, "Hey...I can't get a job. This finger won't work" [showing it - flipping the bird]. It's hilarious because he has such an invasive personality. And he's inebriated about 90% of the time, so he's flipping the bird while practically yelling. The sad thing is that I think he was serious and not looking for an excuse to flip off people. I've seen this schtick pulled on many unsuspecting church people. Which still makes me laugh. I can only remember seeing Finger Joe 100% sober only once, maybe twice. And he was like...a real peaceful, almost scholarly guy.

So today I ask what's up. And he mumbles something unintelligable than gives me the finger line. But this time he had his middle & ring finger taped together with black electrical tape. I don't know what that was about.

I'm surprised he is still in the mother city. And that he remembered me. Lord, I miss Finger Joe. Take good care of him.

Just what the hell is faith anyway?

So I read all the standard notes in the book on faith (Hebrews 11, etc). Done. Faith is believing what you don't see. Believing as though it were. I can do that (or so I arrogantly think). I've done that for exactly 10 years this month (The anniversary of my "deliverence". And no, not the banjo kind. I'm manic depression-free 10 years and counting).

Financially speaking, we have not received consistant support (ie: a paycheck) since we were removed from the institutional club 3 years ago. No big deal. Things came up here & there. Music gigs, house painting gigs, investment gigs. So...I guess we were receiving consistant support. Just in an offbeat way.

So whenever people ask what we do I say, "I'm an undecover agent". And when they ask who paid us I get kind of cocky and say, "God always meets our needs". Like I was really believing that or something.

So...why is it when we have a close call (like last week when the month changed) did I panic? IS that lack of faith?

And why is employment so synonymous with identity in our culture? - That's the one I hate the most. "I'm a student". "I work with a consulting firm". "I own an exterminator business".

Well gee...I just sit around on my ass until the CEO puts some needy person in my path. Then I go with the flow of that relationship, if I don't screw it up. Yay me.

An aquaintence came by this morning while I was home and innocently asked me, "Did you not have to go in this morning?". It caught me off guard. "Uhh...yea...sure", I reply. Go "in". Why do I feel like I am supposed to be ashamed if I don't have a specific place 'to go' between 8a and 5p?

And then there's our parents and in-laws who probably think we're aliens. Or bums. Don't EVEN get me started.

Secret Agenting is a weird gig anyway. You never really have 40 hours of "work" a week. One day you got nothing going on at all. Then you'll be with someone consistantly for several days straight. Then some kids come over needing attention. Then a stranger shows up on your doorstep in the middle of the night. Then some poor neighbors invite you over for BBQ and cheap beer. I can accept this life as I'm "good" at it and I love it. But why do I get fidgity when other neighbors wonder why my car never left the driveway all day? And why do I think that finances aren't coming these months when they have for the last 3 years?

Lord - I confess...my faith has wandered off. Thank for your provision and for the day to day life you give us.

Middle man (the twisted world of non-prof Part I)

There's a great story (or in my view, an expose') in the local paper this morning about the mother city's chapter of The United Way. I'm not a fan of The United Way. I'm a huge critic of the non-prof world in general, but there's MANY more posts on that subject, I'm sure.

The United Way is the epitome of what I refer to as 'outsourcing one's giving'. They're a "middle-man". And most people want to eliminate middle men. If you have money that you want to give to another in need, WHY skip over the heads of the needy to hand it to an institution? And that instituion obviously keeps a percentage to keep themselves afloat (a reported 36% cash or 12% with "services", depending how you define "services"). Then their board chooses where the money goes - which is always another institution (a local "mom-n-pop" non-prof or a Salvation Army, etc). Then THAT 2nd institution keeps a percentage to keep their ship running, etc. So by the time you give a buck to a group like The United Way, actual POOR PEOPLE might get helped indirectly with like...20-40 cents of that dollar (my unscientific speculation...but I've BEEN a part of the non-prof machine so trust me on this). My favorite Simpson's quote is by Krusty the clown - when questioned about the proceeds from the benefit recording for the boy in the well: "Hey...them limos out back ain't free".

My only dealings with the local United Way is when I was employed at a local TV station 10 years ago. Once a year the managers hit up all us $6/hour employees to give to the annual United Way campaign. I think I was one of the few that refused to join in. Hey...I couldn't justify giving to something I didn't know much about plus I could barely survive on my pay as is. They really frowned upon not joining in. I suspect there was some sort of kick-back/benefit from the United Way to the station if a certain amount was donated.

My favorite lines from today's story is a quote from this newspaper's publisher (and UW board member...no agenda THERE) stating that his employees (ie: the chick writing this story) really enjoyed giving to the UW. Then her following statement made me spew my coffee with one of those Nelson laugh's (HA-ha):

It's appropriate to bring United Way fund-raising into the workplace because of the number of people touched by its efforts, said Abilene Reporter-News publisher and United Way board member George Cogswell III.

''I believe it, and I share the message,'' Cogswell said.

Last year, the Reporter-News ranked No. 4 among company donors.

Employees respond ''because they wanted to,'' he said. ''They really put their money where their heart is. There's no arm twisting.''

Reporter-News employees who donate to the United Way are invited to a party at Cogswell's home and are given paid days off from work.

I hope this young reporter still has her job tommorrow.

Anyway, I understand that groups like The United Way help individuals who WANT to give, but work full time, have no way of knowing WHERE, if not better WHO to give to. So the UW says give to us, and we'll take care of it. As I'll state over & over in this blog...if at all possible...give of yourself. Donate YOU. Build a relationship with someone. Be REAL. Don't take them on like some "project". Don't place yourself higher than them. Be real friends based on the book's writing in John 15. Cut out the middle man.

Saturday: sign-o-the-day

Hate the sin...ner

I get this email yesterday from someone from my former charismatic club days. It's one of those chain type, forwarded emails that's trying to get the word out to "all christians" to vote for some proposition in the Texas legislature defining marriage as being man and woman. Or something like that. I admit, I pretty much deleted it as soon as I got the basic gist of the email, so I don't remember the details.

I guess this crusade is kind of weird because:
#1 - We're in freaking TEXAS. We're a far cry from Massachusets (however you spell MA), San Francisco, or flipping Canada. If the majority of Texans actually approved gay marriage in a public, voting sort of way, the ghosts of Sam Houston, Stephen F. Austin, and all the heroes of the Alamo would roll around in their graves so much as to cause an earth quake to sink Texas into the gulf. And besides, there's not enough liberals in Austin to even halfway pass something like that. So drop the fear tactic emails.

#2 - Since when did homosexuals become "the enemy"? Last I heard, my friend Jesus hung out with folks like this. Or I'm sure he would have at least had a beer with them once in a while.

Yea, sure. We followers are quick to say "hate the sin, love the sinner". Really? Do we love the gossipers but hate our own backstabbing words? Do we embrace the fat asses but hate our own experiences at feed-trough mega-buffets, front row parking, and drive-through fast food?

On the issue of voting in general, I'm not sure where to go with that yet. I'm not sure that the CEO would have me to be politically charged. Politics is not my mission. Maybe it is for others. Does fighting homosexuality in the voting booth bring the kingdom of God?

plight of the 'working poor'

I read this from the local paper. Due to the overall cost of rising fuel prices PLUS recent hurricane damage in the gulf...natural gas (ie: heating bills this winter) are expected to be 60%-90% higher than last season. And I thought last season's was higher than usual. 90%...as in, almost DOUBLE.

The article states:
Residential customers who paid an average of $367 from October 2004 to March 2005 could expect to pay $690 during the same time period this year. That's an increase of more than $50 a month.


This has nothing to do with greedy energy companies as by law they cannot profit from rate increases. This is supposedly about lack of supply. Things like this devestate the working poor: people with jobs that can barely support their families with their already low wages.

All I can say is 1) Churches & ministries to the poor...brace for impact. It's gonna be a tough winter. And 2) I know it's cool and trendy to give to various hurricane relief efforts right now. And those victims obviously need your support. But maybe start scoping out people in your own neighborhoods and community, build friendships with them (if you already haven't) and offer to help them out one month or so. People like elderly on fixed (social security) incomes, single working moms, poor families with several kids who are really trying hard to make it on their own, etc.

The Bossman

A main character in the life of Agent B that I've yet to introduce is The Bossman. By all accounts, he is the "pastor" of the izzy group, thus I am his "associate pastor". These are titles we don't use often. And I rarely, if ever, use mine. Well, I use it to visit guys at the local jail. Man, it's amazing. Tell jail keepers that you're a pastor and they roll out the red carpet and toss you the keys. There's hardly a background check that I can remember. And when I go in, they just open the two security doors, lead me to a room with the guy I'm visiting, and leave us alone for as long as we want. I'm extremely thankful for our local jail's respect for the pastorate and/or Christians. But someone could lie and say they're the pastor of The Church of the Affectionate Holy Moly, then use it as a ruse to smuggle in weapons and drugs real easy.

So anyway, The Bossman is technically my boss and pastor, but he's really a friend on a similar journey as me. He has only been in ministry to the poor for 10 years, but his previous career facinates me and is the majority of the inspiration for my 'Agent B' persona.

The Bossman spent over 20 years as a US Federal Agent with the OSI - Office of Special Investigations. The OSI is like the FBI on the military level, if I understand correctly. They mostly investigate crimes involving military personel, but often assist local law enforcement if neccessary. So basically, a guy who spends two decades carrying a badge and a .45, investigating dead bodies, working secret service for US government oficials (including Ronald Reagan and Dan Quayle), going undercover for weeks to do a drug raid, busting in doors and kicking ass is now a compassionate minister to poor people.

Being a Fed honed The Bossman's skills as a 'behavioral scientist'. He can spend 2 minutes talking with anyone and can have them "figured out" like if they're hiding agendas, etc. And most people let their guard down around him because he portrays himself in public to be some old dirt farming hick. He doesn't abuse the poor with this tactic but I've watched him in action when meeting with local business men who had agendas with our ministry.

What's funny is that one of his last assignments was posing as a drug buyer here in the mother city. He use to bust up the dope sellers. Now he ministers to those same dope sellers. His background helps him (and me) know where to look for 'the least of these', how to identify with their needs, speak their lingo, etc. It's also funny to see the dynamic of character The Bossman contains. I've seen this once hard-hearted agent cry about the poor on many occasions. Yet one night at the shelter during the old izzy days I watched him instantly snap into agent mode when one of the homeless guys was getting too rough and unreasonable. I'm convinced "agenting" is a good background for ministers to the poor. It's not neccessary but it can't hurt.

Today, like many days, The Bossman and I went to some remote secret location within the mother city to smoke a cheap cigar and discuss things of the CEO. He's not perfect. Nobody is. He confesses his sins to me often. But he's a good boss.

Inspiration from a cartoon movie

As stated before, I'm not big on pop culture especially TV or movies. I promise, this is not some "I'm more spiritual than YOU" routine. Most people find joy in these entertainments. I don't. Simple as that.

There's always exceptions to the rule. I like Star Wars OK (the original 1977 one). But I can only watch it maybe once a year. I'm a sucker for The Simpsons. Little known fact: I am the first person to bring The Simpsons to the mother city back in the spring of 1990. Abilene didn't have a FOX affiliate at the time so I imported it via my mom's VCR in Houston and introduced it to my freshman dorm friends. The local ABC affiliate picked it up during season 2 and aired it 10:30 Saturday nights against SNL. Needless info.

With the aid of good beer and margaritas, Agent Wife and I can get stupid in front of Animal Planet most any weekday night. Some friends almost had to kick us out once. AW loves shows involving slapstick, animals, kids, and practical jokes and Animal Planet actually had all 4 in one show. Me - I love those animal cops shows. Why? Because I can't believe they're real. Which makes it funny. For crying out loud, on one show this guy was getting read his rights and handcuffed AT WORK because he...get this...burned the wiskers off a cat. And I've actually known people who burn cigarette butts on their kids arms and nobody hauls them off. But a guy burns wiskers and gets his Miranda Rights and a cellmate named Bruce. Hilarious. Then there's the angle on these animal cops shows that these SPCA cops can ONLY exist in big cities. Because intellectual redneck towns like the mother city wouldn't put up with animal rights nonsense. Good golly miss molly, my neighbors the Sanfords go through dogs like Oprah goes through baked hams. They'd have been locked up in the state pen to rot by now. They literally have new dogs every 1-3 months. Then these dogs die, and they get more. It's one of the aspects of the poverty culture I haven't figured out. It's like they have no value on life or love for another. Last month they got 2 new pit bull pups, to which I reply, "ahh...more dogs to neglect, eh?". They died last week.

Anyway, I'm way off subject. The majority of my view of TV stems from my 3 year stint as a master control operator & production worker at a local NBC affiliate. It's amazing how wide your eyes open to TV's falseness when you manufacture programing for a living. So when we married 7 years ago, we decided no TV in the house, period. However, Agent Wife & I received not one, but two new computers this last year. Each are equipped with the latest gizmos like DVD players. So we discover movie watching. Or really she does and I just borrow my friend's Star Wars boxed DVD set.


Anyway, we borrow this cartoon movie called The Incredibles one night. I'm sure all 4 people who read this know what The Incredibles is and I'm the last on earth to discover this *film*. But the basic story line goes like this: there's a community of super heroes out minding their own business and doing what super heroes do (saving people, fighting crime, etc.) and enjoying life doing what their "called" to do. Then one day, with circumstances beyond their control, they have to quit. They go into hiding, get "real jobs", live amongst real people, and hide their hero talents. Except occasionally they'll sneak out late and go save some people just to get it out of their system. Then low and behold, in the end they get to be super heroes again and everything is all right. The end.



It was a good movie. It did it's job: entertain and turn your brain to mud for an hour and a half. All good fun. Then Agent Wife states something profound like, "Wow. That movie really spoke to me". To which I say something dumb like, "Spoke to you? A cartoon? HA-ha (Nelson laugh)". Then she explains, "This movie is like our life. We were doing our calling. The izzy group was ministering to hundreds of poor people a week. Giving groceries, clothes, making relationships, etc. Then with circumstances beyond our control izzy was removed from the building and had no resources. We went into hiding for various reasons, moved in amongst the people, started a family, and maybe someday everything will work out." Yes, that's what I'm believing. She's right.

I'm not saying we're super heroes or anything. Just undercover operatives.

Jones County respite

Agent Wife, her young friend Princess, Agent Offspring & I loaded up the Millenium Falcon for a camping trip at some friend's property in Jones County. I love the mother city. One reason - it's big enough to be a city with all the amenities most cities offer. Yet it's small enough to only take 20 minutes to drive from one side to the other. And this area of the world is so sparsely populated that it only takes 20-30 minutes to drive into the country and get away from it all, as if we had driven for hours.

Our friend's the Carr's allowed AW, AO, & Princess to use their vast landscape as a camp ground. The girls and baby slept in a tent while I roughed it in the Carr's trailer hitch camper.

Jones County is a unique landscape in West Texas. The soil is mostly white sand, like a beach with mature oak trees, prickly pears and various wildlife (deer, squirrels, tale of bobcats, and... many frogs). It was hot and dusty. Autumn is here so it's 90F as opposed to 100F.

It's so good to get away, even if it's only for 24 hours. For me, the break wasn't only about babysitting, talking to the CEO, and downing Shiner Bocks, but I also got to do some manual labor. This morning I helped the Carr's mix & pour cement for a new slab they're making for a shed. Mixing cement for the first time in my life was more therapeutic than sitting under the stars with a Shiner venting to the CEO. Who would have known? And if this secret agent gig continues in the direction it seems, I'm now skilled in a trade.