bohemian-alien.net

To me, there was nothing incongruous about a huge, hairy dude with a tattoo on his arm –and a Bible in his hand– using his free hand to knock on the door of our church meeting place.

It’s just not something you see every day…yet.

It was about fifteen minutes until our scheduled Bible study, so the door was still locked. And here was a newcomer, whom I had never met; who had found our church website, and figured that any church who met in a weird looking, non-religious building such as ours, and with just might be bohemian enough.

“Do you accept people with tattoos?” was how he greeted me with a wink, (but some fear and trembling), as I swung open the door.

“Dude, not only do we; but I specifically remember praying you in!,” I smiled. “Come on in!”

Four years later; this longhaired dude we now lovingly call “St. Guinness,” is an integral part of the church family I pastor; he has even been known to sneak in some Led Zeppelin licks while playing guitar for us. We have even commissioned him to start his own house church in the town he and his family just moved to.

No; we didn’t ask him to remove his tattoos (read this if tattoos concern you); or cut his hair (His habit of cutting cheese, however, is annoying).

We even dare to post a photo of him on the church website.

Regarding “praying him in,” accepting him, loving him, learning from him, doing coffee (and Guinness) with him, and hooking him up with training classes with better pastors than me, I was just doing my job.

But now I guess I am trying to work myself out of a job.

Of course, the heretical concept of pastoring as a job is the whole of the paradox and problem.

And I don’t mean just that I should be doing that kind of stuff for free, and as a basic, normative part of my life. You know the old joke, “Pastors are paid to be good; the laypeople are good for nothing.”

I mean that if I continue to pastor as a job, I’m sunk. I am not in this for the money; I would do it for free; it’s too much fun. But unless I deprogram and detox myself completely from the “professional pastor” category, I’ll inevitably wind up sexually ogling flight attendants.

!

Uh, I realize that last sentence needs some unpacking. Here’s the reference, from the hilarious Douglas Wilson:

“Matthew 23: 7-12 rebukes clergy types: ‘Their Bibles are more underlined than other people’s. They showboat their way up to the stage where the pulpit used to be…And they like being called doctor…they love to be greeted in the marketplaces and to have men call them ‘Pastor’..

But you are not to be called Pastor, for you have only one Master and you are all brothers…The greatest among you will be your servant. For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

Matt 23:7-12

In the old days, this had to be accomplished by means of respectful titles like ‘Rev.’ But nowadays, in these egalitarian times, the attitude of spiritual conceit has had to be a little more creative, and a pastor shows his prowess in humility by asking people to call him ‘Joe’. Behind the scenes, he is a fierce, hard-driving CEO,and reads those CEO magazines, and acts like a CEO on airplanes, right down to ogling the flight attendant in first class. But out in front of the congregation, sitting on that stool, fitted out in a Mr. Rogers cardigan, he is open, transparent, and shares the

struggles of his heart–the struggles of a simple guy…named Joe. He is about as deep as a wet spot on the pavement.

-Douglas Wilson, “A Serrated Edge: A Brief Defense of Biblical Satire and Trinitarian Skylarking,”p. 36
Just because I don’t dress up (or wear a dress like I used to; shocking photos here!!) to preach, don’t use clergy titles or clergy parking spaces, that all means squat and skubala if I am just doing a CEO job for a paycheck. That only makes me nontraditional, but a whore at best.

Part of my dilemma is the literal paycheck. I may wind up drawing my salary from a “secular” job. And besides, I need to spend far more time in the real world. And I don’t yet

look bohemian enough. I am a square looking white guy; and in spite of these rumors, I do not yet have a tattoo. I need to, like Mark Driscoll, “repent of the sin of abstention from alcohol.”

I need to be more like Tony Jones; and spend more time with true bohemian apostles like “Frank the Trucker.” Please take some time to watch these brief video clips of Tony and Frank; then you will know better how to pray for subversive pastor types like me…

…Who may inevitably pray, talk and work ourselves out of our paychecks, jobs and boxes. Yet find our soul and fuel our calling.

Chad Taylor speaks a timely word:

Revival does not look like we expect it to look. Revival is shocking. It never dresses the same, never smells the same; it’s unorthodox. It’s unreligious. It surprises, it’s hardly ever invited or expected. It comes on its own terms and in its own way. Suddenly. And it doesn’t always wear the face we expect. It can be painted black or white; it may have piercing and tattoos. It may smell like urine or fancy cologne…

The next great move of God will be seen in the streets. Harvest is not experienced in test tubes and sheltered places. Harvest is experienced only in the open air with the hot sun and the cool evening breeze. Harvest is not something confined and measured and grown in air-conditioned buildings. Its abundance usually comes forth through sweat and effort. Harvest is outside. Harvest is where the people are. (Chad Taylor, complete article here).

It is time for new tribesters like St. Guiness, Frank the Trucker…and likely anyone bohemian and alien enough to be reading this magazine (Did you get your pastor’s permission?) to plant some churches in the byways, bars and brothels that not only “accept people with tattoos,” and people that “smell like urine” but honor them as the rugged and anointed forerunners of the next worldwide and wild move of God on the earth.

I will specifically remember praying you in.

http://davewainscott.blogspot.com/2008/05/st-video-st-guiness-defies-death-to.html