This morning on my way to work, I stopped at the $3 car wash. It’s worth about $3, maybe less.

Well, when you pay your $3 and go through the car wash, you are entitled to use the vacuums in the parking lot for free. So, I slid my Crown Vic into a spot and grabbed the business end of an industrial strength vacuum hose. As soon as I started vacuuming, I noticed that this huge steel tank vacuum was industrial strength wimpy. It barely picked up sand, let alone the other more substantial stuff on the floors of my car. I put my hand against the nozzle and felt almost no suction at all. Like an optimistic dunce, I kept vacuuming and hoping things would improve. They didn’t.

Then, I decided that what this vacuum hose needed was minor surgery. After looking around to make sure no employees were over my shoulder, I disassembled the hose and found the source of the wimpy suction. It was a Taco Bell taco sauce packet. Taco sauce was killing my suction.

After extracting said taco sauce, I put the hose back together and I’m not kidding, I could have picked my car up with the suction I was getting now. No doubt about it: This vacuum sucked.

What’s the taco sauce packet that’s keeping God’s power and potential from being fully engaged in my life? What’s just below the surface in me that is way too much about me that is keeping God from leading me forward into more fruitfulness?

Never thought I could learn so much from a taco sauce packet.

I’m a creator. I don’t generally gravitate to things that are already created. I like to write, I like to make, I like to do things that aren’t done; or at least aren’t done the way I would do them.

Silly, I know.

Especially when it comes to ministry (which is where I live), why not just use things that are already made? Why not use the curriculum that so-and-so wrote? Why not use the pre-fab stuff in ministry? My answer: I don’t know except to say that God made me to create things, enjoy creating, and offer them to others who don’t create.

But that creative impulse sometimes drives me crazy. I’ll very often get an idea in my head and think “That’s something worth doing.” But after several minutes of thinking about it, I usually decide that no, it’s not worth doing at all. If I did do it, nobody would get it…I mean, understand it. Not because it’s smart or so progressive, but because it comes from me, and very often I feel like I don’t think the way most people think. Again…silly, I know. And I’m sure it sounds a bit arrogant. I don’t mean it to. Trust me.

Here’s an example.

Earlier today, I was thinking about how the sound of a banjo always sticks out. No matter what the musical context, there’s just something about a banjo that is so distinct, and so recognizable. You just can’t miss it.

And at least in my mind, that reality can directly connect to my life as a follower of Jesus. In my mind, there’s a whole world of truth to unwrap, there’s a slew of Scripture to expose, there’s a myriad of relatable points that come from that simple thought. Not only that, but its humorous, its peculiar, and its catchy.

But I think that’s just me.

So my book/article/sermon series/website/clothing line called “There’s Something About a Banjo” ends up on the cutting room floor. At least for now.

The catch for being creative is to be discriminating, too. Not every thought warrants development. Not every idea is a good idea. Some (perhaps even most) end up being for my amusement, or for my private thoughts, or for my ________________. I don’t even know what else to put in the blank.

Well, I’ve got to run and get some lunch. Sorry for the abrupt ending, but the content of this ridiculous post might be directly associated with a failure to properly nourish my brain.

I keep a small notebook on my nightstand for writing things down that cross my mind when I’m either in bed, getting ready for bed, or when I awake in the middle of the night with some prophetic dream for the nations. While that last one doesn’t really happen too often, the first 2 do–and I want to be ready. I enjoy blogging, and I must confess that I don’t want even one would-be blog to slip through the teeth of my steel trap memory…which rusted open long ago.

And you can call it vanity. Go right ahead. You’re entitled. But to me, the primary issue isn’t the hair. I’ve always had as my plan to shave my head bald when I reached the tipping point. And when I say bald, I mean Mr. Clean bald. I mean shiny head bald. I mean not a speck of hair bald. The problem? Well, I’m not in great shape. At least, not in my opinion. And in order to really pull off a good bald head look, it really helps to be in good shape.

“My plane just had to do an emergency landing,” he wrote. “Engine over heated. Fire trucks everywhere. Good times.”

That was Ashton Kutcher’s tweet yesterday. His private airplane was forced to make an emergency landing in Las Vegas, just a few minutes after it took off, officials reported.

In case you’re not in tune with the comm-phenom “Twitter”, Kutcher (a.k.a. “aplusk”) is the #1 followed person on the site. At present, he has has well over 3 million followers. By contrast, yours truly has 16 followers. One of the reasons (besides insane celebrity) that he is so followed is because he is such an avid tweeter. Following Ashton is pretty much a moment-by-moment, play-by-play window on his daily life. If you’re looking for that “I wanna feel like a stalker without the criminal ramifications” vibe, then simply click “Follow” next to Ashton’s name on the Twitter site.

So, as you can imagine (or have heard), all ended well and no one was hurt during the emergency landing. He’s thankful to be okay, and reassured his fans via Twitter. But then he did something that I personally found interesting. He encouraged his fans to help him celebrate him being alive by helping to promote his latest movie.

And that is why he’s a money-making machine. His life equates money-making movies. Happy to be alive? What better way to celebrate than to plug a movie? I don’t know, I just found it odd. But then again, that’s why he sneezes into million dollar bills.

The other day, I was thinking about something that happened to me years ago, and what God might want me to [re]learn from it now.

It was early one morning, and I was awakened by the phone ringing. Trying not to sound too groggy, I answered, “Hhhelllo?” It was Sue, a nurse who attended our church. She was calling from the hospital and was near the end of her night shift, asking me to come as quickly as I could. So, I got dressed and bolted out the door.

When I arrived, I was met by Sue who stopped me in the hall outside the hospital room she would take me into. She explained what I was about to walk into. A young man lay inside that room; 18 years old and as she explained, brain dead. He had been in an early morning motorcycle accident and there was really no hope of him surviving, based on the extensive brain trauma.

It was devastatingly sad, but I didn’t know this young man, or mother and sister who were also in his room. So, why had I been called into this situation?

This Middle Eastern mother, sister, and son were recent converts to Christianity. They each had converted from Islam to embrace a relationship with Jesus. Wonderful! But again, why was I asked to come? I had been asked to come as a pastor to pray for and with them. You see, the father of the family had stepped out. The father of the family was still a devout Muslim. The father of the family didn’t know about his wife’s, daughter’s, and son’s conversion to Jesus. And the father of the family would be returning to the hospital at any moment. So, essentially the mother wanted a Christian pastor to come and pray with her, her daughter, and her son a) before they turned off the life support system keeping him alive, and b) before the husband/father returned. Have you ever felt pressure?

In the midst of that incredibly sad situation, I was so impressed by the mother’s faith. You might say, “If her faith was so strong, she’d stand up to her husband and tell him about her conversion.” But if you understand anything about the Muslim faith, you know that such a thing is easier said than done, to say the very least.

The truth is, she had risked a lot. Not only had she risked so much to leave Islam and embrace Jesus, but she continued to risk by inviting me to come and share in the darkness of their family’s history. While I will never know just what would have happened had the father walked in while we were praying together, I can’t help but be captivated by her desperately devout faith in Jesus.

What risks do I take with my faith? How safe do I play it? Who’s being impacted by what I believe? Does what I believe truly revolutionize how I behave? Who’s eternity has been altered because I’ve been faithful and obedient to God’s instructions in my life? And conversely, who’s eternity hasn’t been altered because I’ve been unfaithful and disobedient to God’s instructions in my life?

Yesterday my family and I headed to Mickey D’s after church to grab a quick lunch. While standing in line waiting our turn to order, I watched 2 couples heading toward the door. Well-dressed 60-somethings and all smiles, one of the gentlemen stopped and turned toward the workers behind the counter and offered a hearty, “Thanks for the lunch!”. No response. He waited 10 seconds or so then tried again: “Enjoyed the lunch! Thanks!” Even though I was captivated by his two rather loud and cheerful statements, not one of the employees even looked up. No acknowledgement whatsoever of his words or even his existence.

Finally, with a look of “oh well”, but still smiling, he turned and walked out the door.

I immediately thought, “That was weird.”
Then I immediately thought, “No it’s wasn’t.”

The reason why it wasn’t weird is because McDonalds is more machine than man. It’s a collection of cogs, not veins. Every franchise works the same playbook, and based on what I saw yesterday the playbook says nothing about making the customer feel like a person. I was so struck by the lack of anyone’s response to the gentleman that I nearly shouted, “You’re welcome!”

As you probably know, I live the life of a person in fulltime ministry. While the lion’s share of my time is based in student ministry, my experiences span much further than just that age group. I’ve seen a lot over the years and there’s a premise I hold to that connects with those few, awkward, embarassing moments in that McDonald’s yesterday.

I have heard (in the context of ministry and church leadership) the concept that pastors are in the business of “customer service”. While I always understand the reason those words are used and I believe the heart behind them is good, I seem to always wince when I hear them. I abhor the thought that those who attend, worship at, and are connected with the church I serve in are “customers” that I help to serve. Because the underlying thought is that I am here to serve the customers, that the customers should be my #1 priority, and that as the old retail adage says: “The customer is always right.” I just don’t see that in the Bible.

And truth be told, I have always had a “take it or leave it” style of leadership. (I use the word “style” simply due to lack of a better term.) I have never read in the Bible a time when Jesus pleaded with anyone to follow Him. It seems to me that Jesus invited people while he was walking past them. Whether he literally stopped in His tracks on the beach to say “Follow Me” isn’t as much the point than that sense that whether those fishermen left their nets or not wasn’t His concern. (Yes, I know He knew they would and that there’s much more to say about all that.)

So, while I lead those God has entrusted to my care, I want to do so with the love of God clearly seen in everything I do. I want it to be said of me that I cared for people, no matter what. I want to be remembered as someone who lived his life putting others first. I want my life to be unmistakably about serving people. But that none of that ever gets confused with a passion for walking with God.