I’m pretty amazed at what God does.  Especially when He does it in me….and through me.

For those who knew me as a young child, I might be remembered as the kid with the unusually large knees (I grew into them).  For those who knew me when I was a young elementary aged kid, I might be remembered as the kid who wet himself on second base during a t-ball game.  For those who knew me in middle school, I’d likely be remembered as “Farmer Varner”; the kid with the doofy “Shaggy-style” walk and the way-too-big duffle bag (I often forgot notebooks, textbooks, etc. at school,  so my parents bought me a school bag that fits everything–trumpet case included–into one bag).  For those who knew me in high school, I might be remembered as “What’s-his-name” until my junior year when I found utter joy onstage and actually graduated with a varsity letter in theater.  (Take that, quarterback Mike Zurowski!)  For those who knew me in college, I’d undoubtedly be remembered as the guy somehow dating the hottest girl on campus and actually getting away with it.

But as a 37-year-old student ministry pastor, I’ve got to admit that I’m often shushing a quiet voice whispering from the back of my mind.  A young voice that brings me back to a place of insecurity.  A place where I don’t really fit in anywhere, with anyone; a place where I’m a “little guy” tagging along, trying to keep up.

And I realize how unmanly that last paragraph makes me sound.  But if this blog is nothing else, its honest.

I wonder how many other humans, or men, or husbands, or dads, or pastors have a similar voice.  After all, when we’re not totally sure of who we are, the temptation is to be defined by what we do.  I especially struggle with this when interacting with other men who aren’t in fulltime ministry.  Men who are corporate and upward, men who are in a hands-on and rugged kind of work.  Men who are successful and lucrative.  Men who know the stats of their favorite players and are able to banter with other guys about who’s team is better.

I guess I’ve never felt quite like I fit in.  There, I said it.

I know who I am from where I am now, but there’s another me that seems to be wandering around inside who is still trying to catch up with me.  And I also know that therapists worldwide would have a hey-day with that last statement.  There’ s a couch and a prescription somewhere with my name on it, to be sure.

The implications of this to my life now are (in no particular order):

a.  I’m not great at parties.  When surrounded by more confident people, I typically clam up; at least at first.  Why?  I’m not sure.

b.  I’m tentative and cautious about emerging opportunities.  A good friend of mine (and extremely talented chap) named Kent Julian contacted me years ago to be on a team of authors he was building to write a book together.  I turned him down.  He contacted me a year or so later with a similar request/invitation for the next book.  Again, I turned him down; again for primarily financial reasons (there was an initial outset of money needed).  Did I miss a golden opportunity?  Maybe.  But I can’t tell you how many times soon after both of his invitations that I asked myself, “Should I have not missed that one?”

c.  The biggest changes I tend to make are to move the family couch from this side of the room to that one.  And while I do rearrange furniture more often than most people, I also (more or less) like to keep things tidy and familiar.  I like to have a plan, know the plan, and work the plan.  When that translates into ministry, I may (not sure if its true) tend to move slower than people would like.  I’m not dumb, I’m just moving at the pace that I process things.  I’m actually at peace with this one.  I’m totally okay with not being able to move at lightning fast speed like others seem to do.

d.  I’m still tempted to seek to please people.  I’ve gotten a lot better at this one as I’ve grown though.  I recently turned down a premarital counseling and wedding request.  Its not (just) that I didn’t want to do it, it was more that I didn’t really feel like my schedule would allow it.  If the same request had come in to a younger Jerry Varner just starting out in ministry, I would have bent over backwards to do whatever necessary to please this couple, or anyone else asking for my time and attention.  I simply put pleasing people really high on my priority list.  And every so often, I find myself wrestling with that old monkey.  One of the most freeing things I’ve learned is that if I dropped dead today, nobody in my life would.

Okay, so all that (and more) are on the psyche/intellect/emotional side of things.  I’d be remiss to not turn my attention to the spiritual facts of who I am:

God’s child (John 1:12), a disciple of Jesus (John 15:15), justified (Romans 5:1), united with the Lord and one in spirit with Him (1 Cor. 6:17), bought with a price (1 Cor. 6:19-20), a part of Christ’s body (1 Cor. 12:27), chosen by God (Ephesians 1:3-8), complete (Colossians 2:9-10), given direct access to the throne of God (Hebrews 4:14-16), free from condemnation (Romans 8:1-2), assured that God is working in my life (Romans 8:28), a citizen of heaven (Philippians 3:20), not fearful but powerful (2 Timothy 1:7), born of God and the evil one can’t even touch me (1 John 5:18)….to name just a few.

So, yeah.  Like I said, I’m pretty amazed at what God does.  Especially when He does it through me.

I don’t remember where I was, but I was attending a conference of some type.  Let’s say it was Milwaukee.  My wife was with me and we had the afternoon free, so we decided to stroll around a bit and we saw a huge charter bus (as if there are small ones) with a bus-length “Discover Card” graphic on the side.  There was a welcome mat kind of thing at the door, and someone standing there obviously waiting for someone like me to stroll by.  And since I can’t possibly turn down a guided tour through anything, let alone a huge luxury cruise bus, I walked right up and walked right in.

As soon as I entered the mammoth vehicle I was immediately whisked away to a land where the fridge is stocked with glass bottle Coca-Cola, where chocolates are found by the basketfuls, and where Discover card hats are free for the taking.

I made my way along the center aisle/corridor of this behemoth bus and looked through to the back of the bus and saw a dude sitting at a table.  I didn’t know the dude, but I thought, “I guess that dude is somebody.”  What gave it away was his debonair looks repeated on the stack of 8×10 inch glossies he had of himself.  Next to the glossies was a bunch of Sharpie markers; presumably so the dude could write his autograph on the glossy and give it to people like me.  This guy was set.  He had a sweet luxury bus to hang out on, he had all the Coca-Cola he could dream of, he had a stack of hats, glossies, and markers, and he even had a flat-screen tv to watch sports on (which is what he was doing when I entered the room).

Before I could even take it all in, he looked over to me as I entered, grabbed a glossy,and scribbled his autograph while asking generically, “What’s your name?” and “How you doin’ today?”  He handed me my glossy, I took a few more Cokes and hats, and I made my way back to the front of the bus.

As I stepped off the bus, I looked down at the photo in my hand.  It was a picture of a professional hockey player that looked a lot like the dude; kind of one of those “in action” photos that was probably staged, but you’re not quite sure because he’s the only one in the picture, skating aggressively on some ice.  In the lower corner of the photo, I read “To my friend, Jerry”

We can view God like that sometimes.  We come into His presence, aware of the fact that He’s got some power (like my “friend” on his bus), aware that we should probably recognize who we’re talking to, but often feeling rather distant–or even foreign–to the idea of a true “friendship” with Him, despite the fact that if we really knew who we were dealing with, we would gush with excitement, unable to contain ourselves.

And perhaps when we find that our worship of God is weak, we can often trace it to the reality that we don’t really recognize who this God is.  We don’t have any kind of discernible friendship with Him.  Imagine if that hockey player really was my friend.  Imagine if I had known exactly who he was, that we had a history, and that we had plans to hang out later that day; after the whole Discover card promo bus gig was over.  I certainly wouldn’t have approached the bus as pensively as I had.  I would have bounded on, shouting my friend’s name, confident that he was in there and that me stopping by would make his day.

Have you ever thought, “I’m going to be spending some one-on-one time with God later on.  We’ve got plans.”  When I think about a date with my wife happening sometime this week, I have a hard time concentrating on the work I have to do in front of me.  I just about want to jump up on my desk, grab the hands of the clock on the wall, and spin them around and around in an effort to bring the time of our date closer.  Do I do that with God?  Do we think about grabbing a cup of coffee with our Creator this afternoon?  Do we see Him as close friend or unfamiliar celebrity?

As you read this today, I’d pray that in your near future, you’d have an opening in your schedule that would allow you to meet up with God somewhere and spend some time with Him.  Let that meeting encourage you, refuel you, and set your soul ablaze with a passion for an intimate friendship with Him.

Let’s be honest.  For those of us who have been around “church” and “worship services” for any amount of time, we can sometimes approach worship like a vending machine.  We seem to “enjoy” a worship service most when it has certain qualities such as a) that song/those songs I like, b) that style of music I prefer, c) a person up front that I connect to, d) a comfortable temperature in the sanctuary, e) a sermon that I find useful or funny or comforting or entertaining or (sometimes) thought-provoking or able to keep my attention, f) a seat/row/section that everyone understands is “mine”, g) not too much talk about money, h) not too convicting, i) a good volume level, j) no babies crying (“Don’t they know we have a nursery?), k) people around my seat who are friendly/likable/good singers/don’t smell bad, l) a preacher who has just enough fire, but without too much brimstone, m) clearly marked exits, n) not too many “crazies”, o) nothing that’s going to make feel uncomfortable in any way.  (I’ll save p-z for another time).

Is this the way worship services today are meant to be?  Here in America we seem to walk a tightrope balance of having nice amenities to bring people in (gifts for visiting, java-drenched atmosphere to make you comfortable, special parking spots, etc.) balanced with enough _________ and not too much __________ to ensure that they’ll return next week.

The worship service is one of the central components that create a local church’s identity.  When you invite someone to your church, one of their first questions is undoubtedly going to be “What’s the worship service like?”  And if you don’t have some good adjectives to use like “casual” or “welcoming” or “amazing music” or “friendly” or “comfortable” then you might not see them darken the door.  But has the modern worship service evolved into something it was never intended to be?  Does God have anything to say about how HE’D like to see worship services happen?

I once heard a question asked when I was in college that I don’t think I could forget if I wanted to.  A chapel speaker once asked “If the Holy Spirit left your ministry, how long would it take for you to notice?”  In other words, are we so busy planning, preparing, doing, and going that we leave  God’s Spirit entirely out of the whole equation?  As a pastor, believe me there have been times when I’ve gotten so busy doing things FOR God, that I stopped doing things WITH God.  Oh, I was doing pastoral ministry kinds of things, but God was nowhere in sight.  How messed up is that?

And I suppose a similar type of question could be asked about our worship services: “If God decided He wasn’t coming to the worship service you attend this week, would anybody notice?”  Are we so entrenched in our routine machine that we completely leave out the One who is supposed to be at the center of it all?

I have countless blogs that I’ve begun and haven’t finished.  I have learned about myself that if I don’t publish a blog post in one sitting, I’m likely not going to come back to it and complete it.  So, here’s a great stopping spot.  I’ll come back and do a “Part 2” kind of thing, but in the meantime, I’d like to invite your thoughts on what you’ve read so far.

I don’t recall many of the details about what day it was or what time, but I was a newly married youth pastor at home  by myself; perhaps home for lunch when there was a knock at my front door.  I hadn’t learned the “pretend I’m not home” trick yet, so I opened to the door to an early-twenty, eager, bright-faced young man.  He had a small duffel bag over his shoulder and a squirt bottle in his hand.  With a proud smile and before any greetings could be exchanged, he blurted out: “Take me to your worst stain!”

I think I responded, “Hi.” and then a few seconds later, “Okay.”

I led him down into the basement where our laundry room was.  It never occured to me that in his duffel bag could be rope, or a gun, a candlestick. or a lead pipe.  Looking back, I could have been walking to my death.  Turns out,  I wasn’t.  Turns out, he really did want to know where my worst stain was.

We had copper pipes that ran along the wall of our laundry room.  They had become corroded and nasty with a nice green fuzzy funk on them.  I turned to him and said, “There it is.”  With a few quick squirts of his bottle ‘o magic whateveritwas, those copper pipes were shining like a new penny.  He turned to me and said, “This cleaner will clean absolutely anything…and watch this!” He then proceeded to unscrew the trigger nozzle top, pulled the straw out that extended to the bottom of the bottle, wrapped his mouth around one end, and wiped the straw through between his lips.  “It’s completely safe and non-toxic!”

I deliberately stalled with some chit-chat for a few minutes to see if he’d drop dead in my laundry room but no such luck.  We walked back upstairs, I bought a bottle of the concentrate that allowed me to make a billion bottles of the stuff, and he walked out the door and out of my life.

While I don’t have the faintest clue where the “worst stain” is in your life, I can absolutely guarantee that Jesus knocks at your door with the power to take it away.  He’s done everything necessary to wash away the worst mess you can possibly make.  Let Him in, give it a shot, and see if I’m not right.