tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22727381166463965482024-02-20T15:21:53.664-08:00Is Love Wrong? By Chris PlekenpolIs Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-14192377055701933972011-09-13T07:10:00.000-07:002011-09-13T07:10:31.253-07:00Chapter 42: NateDon walked out to the front patio of his store and looked over Fairmont Street. The grass was green and a gentle breeze blew and made Don smiled. Don waved at a jogger going by. He reflected on the insanity of going to City Church the night before and decided to text Nate Graybill. Over the past couple months, Nate had become a good friend and a man who cared enough to visit his shop, invite him to church, and take him to lunch. Nate was insanely obtuse, and Don had let him know it with many a middle finger—but he liked and respected Nate. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don pulled out his phone and texted Nate. Texting, Don had thought was only for young guys, but Brit had convinced him that he could do it too, and so now every spare moment left him texting instead of emailing. Emailing was so cumbersome—texting was fantastic. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">He shot off his text to Nate. “I went to a men’s bible study last night and was verbally attacked by one of the church guys. He screamed and jumped up and down saying my beliefs were invalid because I didn’t at this point believe the entire Bible. He said I was going to Hell. It was crazy. If I told him I was gay he would of had a coronary. Now, obviously I no longer see Christians as a group. He was insane and pissed off at my Harley Davidson T-shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He even took off his shirt and tried to cover me up. I was laughing so hard and no one tried to stop his tirade. I would never let any guest or customer of mine be attacked. I don’t understand. I didn’t need protecting. I could handle him, but how do you handle apathy?”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Sorry that happened, Don,” Nate texted back. “Remember, there are still many of us out there that are immature in our understanding of ourselves and God. Wasn't at Watermark was it?”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don sat back on his stool, placed his phone on the counter and texted back. “There was a Watermark guy there, but it was at a place called City Church on Carroll Ave. I think the pastor is Dennis Weir. I no longer lump all Christians into a group. I’m one too. If that had happened at Watermark, you would probably be in a staff meeting right now, hopefully.” <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There certainly would be some conversations. Unfortunately, it is situations like that that make the press—the public rarely sees the rest of us.” Nate texted back after a two minute delay.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don smiled in agreement. Christians could be such idiots. He texted Nate, “I understand, that same press sees the drag queens and other oddities. I’ve prayed for that guy and going forward I’m not judging his beliefs, but I’m definitely judging his etiquette.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Yes and great to pray for him,” Nate texted. “Should do both if he claims the name of Christ.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don stared at his cell phone puzzled. Nate was always cryptic. “I don’t understand,” he texted.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Five minutes passed as Don impatiently stared at his phone and tried to busy himself with miscellaneous shop work. Finally Nate hit him back, “You should judge both for those claiming Christ. Jesus was hardest on hypocrites of the temple. See also Paul/Peter in Galatians, 1 Cor 6, Jude, etc. Off top of head while driving.” <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’m in no position to judge anyone’s beliefs. What are you doing texting while driving? Some role model you are,” Don texted back. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Actually as a believer and student of God you are in that position, since you have access to His Word and seek to understand/become Christlike—see Bereans. :)” came the reply. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don paced. He didn’t know why people like Nate got under his skin. He didn’t know why he liked them so much. He just did. “I’m a pathetic believer. And may I say **** you and shoot you the finger. But I have never been a total disrespectful ass,” Don texted.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Thanks, I needed that today :) pretty pathetic myself,” Nate texted.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">There it was—that humility thing that these Cocky Christians continually pulled off that forced Don to like people like Nate and Chris and everyone else. He knew that God was doing something, but he couldn’t quite make out exactly what. Don wrote Nate back, “You are a miracle. God is using you and me. If that’s not humbling, then we are arrogant asses.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Look @ you, preaching to the pastor! Very humbling, because I am an arrogant ass. But like Peter said, "Where else could I go, Lord? You have the words of life!” Nate texted.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Yep, preaching to a preacher. Well someone has to. It may as well be the guy who’s been cursing you.” Don smiled at his wit.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Very good MSG coming Sunday-Wagner is off again.” Nate said.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Thank God, Don thought. Todd had a tendency to ramble on for an hour quoting every bible passage he knew, but saying absolutely nothing. Although, Don had nothing against the man, he couldn’t handle an hour of Todd. Nate, however, through the amount of time that he had put into Don had earned the right to have Don make a special trip to hear him speak. “If Mark isn’t preaching at PCPC I will see about it. Are you preaching?” Don texted.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Gary Haugen with International Justice Mission coming. Great champion of social justice,” came the reply.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Social justice? At Watermark? Interesting...”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Thought that would peak interest with you.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Well, yes, anything about justice interests me. However I don’t know Todd and where he stands on my equality as equal to him as an American citizen.” Don texted and waited fully engrossed in his texting that he completely ignored several customers who entered and were now perusing his shop.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I am sure he would sit about where I sit,” Nate replied.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Above me?” Don asked. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Ha!” Nate shot back.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">A gear switched for Don and he didn’t want to go there as he was enjoying the text match with Nate, but he felt it his duty to remind Nate of civil liberty and its importance. “That’s funny but I have a feeling when it gets down to the voting booth my equality would take a back seat to most of the Christians I’ve met. That makes me very sad,” Don texted.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I think many would vote for many of the inequalities that you see, but not through the mechanism of marriage,” Nate replied. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don felt his heart race. His palms got a little sweaty and he could feel his emotions unseating. “It’s marriage that gives most of the rights,” Don texted. “Marriage is considered a stabilizing factor of society. I’m worth something.” </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“You are worth the life of our Lord and marriage is the stabilizing factor of society. That is why there is such a biblical precedent and why it is vigorously defended.” Nate texted back. Don stood up and paced. He smiled for a moment at a customer and then walked outside to collect himself.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don pecked out a message. “Great defend your personal spiritual beliefs over that of civil society and over those of different faiths. I can’t describe the depth of pain you’re giving me. And we have the same God. I would never wish for you anything less than what I have. Unfortunately to you—I am less. I expect more from you, Nate.” Don knew that last bit would cut, but he didn’t care. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“You are not less than—although I know it can feel like I think that. I cannot in good faith support something I believe God does not support as revealed through His word. I would hope you would expect nothing less of me as His servant. If I am wrong about what He says, then I want to be corrected. But I have not yet seen a sound doctrine that scripturally supports gay marriage. You know I believe the Bible is the inspired word of God, and must default to it,” Nate texted.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Didn’t God say, ‘give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s? This is a civil issue—An equality issue that my friends who are my family—which I lost so many to a horrid disease that was condoned by most straight Christians. I believe in family values. I won’t sell out my friends even you,” Don tapped. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Great pain and loss with you Don and I know Christians have had a significant role in that. In my mind this is a spiritual issue before a civil issue. Christ is not separating civil from spiritual in that passage. He is not willing to be used as a pawn by the Pharisees for their own agenda and also established submission to the governing authorities even when it seems unjust. I will not vote for something that God says is spiritually harmful to people—especially friends like you,” Nate replied. Don read his words and he could feel himself losing it. Thankfully his customers had left, although they purchased nothing. Anger grabbed Don and for a moment he let the tears trickle.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“You do understand you are using a spiritual belief system to justify discrimination against someone you have actually called your brother. The guy who screamed and hollered at me last night was rude. But at least he never claimed to love me as a fellow Christian. I don’t wear all emotions on my sleeve. But I’m sitting out on this patio eating a sandwich on a gorgeous day. Sobbing into this wadded up paper towel. Christian values? I am a ******* Christian, too. And I have feelings and now they are crushed.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don hit send and wondered if any of these people that said they loved him would get off their high horse and see him as he was—a person with rights.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Ten minutes later, Nate’s reply came. “I understand that I am called to speak the truth in love to my brother. There are many others that grew up feeling what you feel that ascribe to scripture as I do. You've met some. I wish that you would really sit down and investigate what they are saying. I don't want to crush you, Don. I want God's best for you, just like you do. I just believe that following what He says is the path to life. That is the best way to become Christlike. I am not trying to hurt you, just help. Just like you are helping me be more sensitive (I guess we both need to continue to get better at it).” <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Don gripped his cell phone. Twenty years ago he would have thrown it against the wall. But he was beyond that now. He wiped his tears with the already moist paper towel and went back inside. He tapped a message back to Nate, “</span>I have no desire to be straight. Look at straight. What in the world can straight offer? Only pain and rejection. I can’t believe that Christians aren’t standing up for each other. I knew from my past that integrity wasn’t common with Christians but I have expected better from you. Especially you—If this is truly your value system. Then I’m sorry for you and I’m devastated for me.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Why are you attacking me for holding to scripture and believing that God's way is best? I am not going to support anything that God says is harmful—especially for those I care about. That is putting their best interests above my own. It would be much easier to for me just to go with the flow and ignore scripture. Need to stop now. I am home with family and it seems we are not making progress. Let's revisit later.” Nate replied.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“You know I’m not attacking you. You know that, but I don’t know that you’re not attacking me in the name of our common God. That seems pathetic. What happened to love one another and building each other up? Is that just for white straight guys? ****! Last night and now this??????” Don put down his cell phone and paced. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“You know I care about you, Don. Look back over the text chain and try to understand what I am saying and give me the benefit of the doubt based upon the amount of time I've spent with you. I want what is best for you—we just disagree as to what that is. I really can't communicate any more on this today. I will try to touch base tomorrow.” <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don knew not to text back. He was emotionally exhausted and had no desire to see or talk to anyone for a while. </div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-12051397992406995742011-09-12T16:00:00.001-07:002011-09-12T16:00:53.360-07:00Chapter 41: Gay Theology<h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358328"><u><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 41: Gay Theology</span></u></a><o:p></o:p></h1><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey Chris, you want to come to a gay bible study with me over by White Rock Lake? I want to make sure that they are not way off base.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Okay, I’ll do it. What time?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“7pm.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I arrived at 6:45pm and found Don in the parking lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey Chris, I’m so glad you made it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Brit is going to be here, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Awesome.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey have you given any more thought to the resurrection?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Why is the resurrection so important? My belief came from acknowledgement of the sacrifice and that action is the reason for my sharing my faith. I can probably lie and say sure, what the ****, I believe it all. But I’m not going to lie about my Christianity or anything else. I guess it’s like everything else, just stupid ignorant faith in faith.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well pretty much if there is no resurrection, our faith is retarded.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well if the dead aren’t raised, what good is it to be forgiven?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Clean conscious.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I pulled out my bible.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Where’s your family bible? The one you first met me with and you brought a wheel barrow into Starbucks to carry it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You’re ridiculous. Listen.” I opened my bible to <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">1 Corinthians 15 and read verses12-17, “</span>Now if Christ is preached, that He has been raised from the dead, how do some among you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? But if there is no resurrection of the dead, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is vain, your faith also is vain. Moreover we are even found <i>to be </i>false witnesses of God, because we testified against God that He raised Christ, whom He did not raise, if in fact the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins.” I closed the Bible. “Pretty black and white, Don.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I think it’s just something I can’t lie about. I trust my conversion and what I think is that things like that will make sense even though now it seems like so much bull****. It will eventually, possibly click, either here in this realm or in the next. I’m open to ALL of it—even though my mind and my personal history has told me different. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Fair enough.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“The Watermark guy called me back today—had a long chat, I didn’t curse much. He even knows Matt Chandler and also is a DTS grad, man you guys are all over the place, except in the day to day lives of anyone I care about.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Had you cursed him out before?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah, remember when I talked about how Todd talked for forever and didn’t respect people’s lives. He wasted a good 30 minutes of my life when I could have been in my shop.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, Todd’s motto is he doesn’t want to give sermonettes to Christianettes—or something like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Who was it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Nate Graybill, do you know him?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“No, what is his job?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I think he is over the whole Christian version of AA thing, Celebrate Something.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Celebrate Recovery?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“That’s it. I think I might need to remind him that he is number one, when I see him—much like I need to remind you,” Don said extending his middle finger.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You’re ridiculous,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey, do you honestly never doubt the whole resurrection? Your mind is based with ability to reason, so how do you turn off all reason?” Don asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well you don’t doubt your conversion, I don’t doubt mine, but my conversion is based on the resurrection, and there are also verses like Romans 10:9 that says if you confess with your mouth Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead you will be saved.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“We can talk more on that later, I guess.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We went inside the old community church and I immediately felt weird. The church had that creepy old people, old church smell—only with drag queens. I smiled and shook hands with manly women as we found the room that the Bible study would be held.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The pastor, Jim, was in his 50s and had a beard. He looked like any older southern pastor would look. There were several chubby fat guys, a couple of women, one guy that could have passed for a straight metro-sexual guy, but given the environment was clearly gay. There were a couple of people I had to stare at for a while to figure out gender and then eventually had to give up because, well, it didn’t really matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Pastor Jim opened the time up with prayer and asked God to heal his partner and guide the discussion. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Thank you all for coming. Many have been asking me for a study on how we can be gay and still okay. So, I wanted to walk with you through several clobber passages that conservative Christians use to bash us and then show you how their wrong reading has lead them to believe this way. Now, of course, there probably is some bigotry there, but I believe that when truth is taught, those who really love God will see reality as we see it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We then went around the room and introduced ourselves. I didn’t say much. I felt it was more of my place to listen. I was a guest and had to remember that they weren’t here for my opinions, but to hear Jim teach about homosexuality. I figured I could get over myself for an hour and learn as much as I could. Who knows, maybe I could learn something. And if this guy could prove homosexuality was God ordained, I would be all for it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Open your Bibles to the most widely misused clobber passage. Genesis 19: The Story of Sodom,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I opened up my bible and waited for the other men in the room to find their way to Genesis 19. Don had become very quick at passage look up and I could tell he was proud of himself and his new Bible skills.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Pastor Jim broke down the story for us from Genesis 19. We first read the story about Lot and the angels and then Lot looking to trade his daughters to protect the angels. A couple jokes were made that Lot sounded like their father. Pastor Jim taught us that this passage was not about God’s hatred of homosexuality, but rather the focus is more on the practical issue of hospitality and how the Sodomites were guilty of being quite inhospitable. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Pastor Jim pointed out that homosexual rape was often a way conquerors degraded and devalued their enemies. He concluded that comparing this case of rape to a committed loving relationship between two men or two women is nonsensical. He further pointed out that no one condemned heterosexuality based on Amnon’s rape of Tamar in 2 Samuel 13:1-33.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The city of Sodom was not destroyed because of homosexuality, but because God finds abuse of any kind repugnant and that the city needed punishment. Pastor Jim found some other Old Testament passages to support his argument. Ezekiel 16:49-50 specifically gives the reason that Sodom was destroyed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Ezekiel 16:49-50 says, “</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy. They were haughty and did detestable things before me. Therefore I did away with them as you have seen.”</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">I’ll be honest, I always thought this was a black and white homosexual issue case. But maybe I was wrong. I looked through my concordance for other references to homosexuality and came to Jude 7.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I wondered why Pastor Jim didn’t bring up that passage, but I kept my mouth shut. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After the study, Don and I went over to Sonic across the street and got some cherry lime-aids. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Well, what did you think?” Don asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I liked it. Definitely different. Those people really wanted to learn and it was like they were like every other Christian in the world. They prayed the same. They talked about God’s love the same. They were very kind. It could have been any church in Dallas, except you had a couple dudes dressed like women and people there that support Barrack Obama.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Don laughed. “What did you think of their opinions.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Actually changed my view on Sodom. Before I wasn’t convinced that the primary issue was hospitality, now I am.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Wow, Chris Plekenpol, wrong? Is that possible?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Shut up,” I laughed. “But Pastor Jim didn’t bring up Jude 7 where it talks about the sexual immorality and how the men of that town went after strange flesh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What do you mean?” Don asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Look it up—read it to me,” I said and Don opened his Bible.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In a similar way, Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding towns gave themselves up to sexual immorality and perversion. They serve as an example of those who suffer the punishment of eternal fire—So what’s wrong with that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Sexual immorality and perversion.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Well, I think like Pastor Jim said that was about rape and inhospitality.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“He is talking about a license to sin. No one has ever in history been like, um rape isn’t too bad. I think raping is good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Maybe Jude meant the angels.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Bro, if you knew there were angels who were hot, would you try and rape them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Good point.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Also I think a better word for word translation is the New American Standard. It says, ‘just as Sodom and Gomorrah and the cities around them, since they in the same way as these indulged in gross immorality and went after strange flesh, are exhibited as an example in undergoing the punishment of eternal fire.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“So, I think that Genesis 19 gives us a good example of what not to do in entertaining strangers, but I also feel it supports the conservative view on gay sex.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Well ****, I thought this would be more helpful. I thought you might change your view.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Maybe, I do think this class will teach us a lot though. I’ll keep coming back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-64805415262308255962011-09-02T22:09:00.000-07:002011-09-02T22:09:19.464-07:00Excerpt from Is Love Wrong?: Chapter 40: Bobby <br />
<h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"> </h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey are you guys hungry?” Don asked the group after SPF7.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’m always down for food,” I said.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’m in,” Ken said.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Great Ken, we never get to spend time with you as a group,” Don said excited.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’m in,” Bill said.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Café Brazil?” I chimed in.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Why don’t we go to the Gay Café Brazil? We always go to the straight one,” Don said.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’m game,” I said. “This could be outreach night.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey men, if we go there, we aren’t going to lead everyone to Jesus, let’s just make friends,” Bill said.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I was surprised that when we entered café Brazil with all 12 of SPF7 in tow. We sat down, ordered, and then started laughing and being loud. Steven and Don got into a heated debate. Ken noticed a guy reading an economics book and went over to talk to him. I just enjoyed the evening listening and watching and taking in the fact that Don had in a sense brought in the Trojan Horse. Just our presence was daunting. Rough men who loved Jesus.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don and Steven sat across from each other and the debate began. Don had been emailing gay theologians from around the country including Ralph Blair from Evangelicals Concerned and combined that with our weekly gay bible study knowledge to go against Steven. Bill and Scott Michael talked about Scott Michael’s relationship with Sandy.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Somehow Bill noticed Ken talking to the student and called them over to join us. I soon found out this kid’s name was Bobby and he was taking economics classes which is what Ken had majored in and was now working in sales with HP. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Bobby didn’t know what to make of us. “So you guys are a church group?” Bobby asked. “Are you a Liberal church?”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“No, we’re not. I’m about as conservative as it gets in my beliefs, but probably live it out differently than you are used to,” I said.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“So do you believe being gay is wrong?” Bobby asked.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“What do you think, Bobby?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Well, I think that it is a sin and so I guess that is why I left the church, because I would just rather be accepted than try to be something I can’t, and if that means I go to hell, so be it.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“What, you think being gay is a sin?” Don asked. “How can you be gay and ever say that?”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I don’t know, I guess I’ve always been taught that. And it has been that way for hundreds of years. The traditional church hasn’t exactly gone back and forth on this one until recently. I’m not really religious so I don’t care. I mean I accepted Christ and was baptized and all that when I was younger, but a part of me feels like that was a kid thing. Life is just different.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’m just shocked that you would ever think that being gay is sinful,” Don said.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I sat and watched the evening continue to unfold. Politics mixed with religion and things were talked about in a bizarre non-offensive way. I watched Don and his uncanny ability to connect with anyone. He used his ornery sort of way that rubbed up against you to make an emotional point and then he had the ability to compliment the person in another way to make them feel valued. It was a gift and something that I admired.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">A couple days later Don called me. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey Chris, I’m going to send you a couple emails between Bobby and me—you know the guy from Café Brazil. It would be great if we could get him to come on Monday night.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Yeah, send them. That would be awesome.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Oh hey, I got a customer, I will call you later.”<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I went online and downloaded the emails. It seemed there was quite a chain.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<b>From:</b> Bobby<br />
<b>To:</b> Don<br />
<b>Subject:</b> hey this is bobby!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Just thought I’d touch base with you and say hello! have a good day!<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">11:46 AM, Don Dent wrote:<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Bobby, Good morning. Having you join the guys for dinner last night was great. I'm glad you could rearrange your schedule to meet us. Ken, the guy you were talking with about economics is really cool. He lives close by and we get together for coffee or lunch occasionally. Listening to your opinion of Christianity was extremely interesting. You’re very open to observations. When you spoke of basic human tendencies regarding what was right or wrong or sin—WOW I've never heard that opinion and you make a good point. I look forward to hearing more of that discussion. I’d like to see it progress to some point I would be comfortable with. I don't k now if comfortable is the right word. You know I’m very new to Christianity and your knowledge of this and everything else overwhelms me. You’re very intelligent. I guess that's no secret to you. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Steven , the guy who was more or less the person you were debating theology with is very intelligent but he is so far removed from anything that I’m familiar with—I think that's why he’s so interesting. Most of those guys aren't close to any gay men. I've been the token gay guy. We have these studies every Monday night at 7: 00 you are especially welcome. It’s not anything you have to join, some guys just show up once in a while—some every week. I have attended every week since the week before my conversion. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Are you dating anyone? Just wondered. My lover and I have been together 18 years. It’s really good to hear from you, Bobby, Thanks. Hope your day goes well. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b>From:</b> Bobby <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b>To:</b> Don <br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: hey this is bobby!<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Thank you for the complements that you gave me. I really enjoyed hanging out with you guys, too (although I stayed too late LOL). I really enjoy discussions like the one that we had. I think that intellect, like democracy, depends on a variety of opinions and views and weighing them out for yourself, and I don’t think it’s intellectually healthy to only study or hear opinions within your own sphere of influence so I enjoyed it. I think it would be cool to get together and watch films or have a book club or something—though I am really busy—I’ll make it when I can. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">And I'm single. 18 years is a long time, I always like to hear about a relationship that has been together for a long time. I would like to meet him sometime—why doesn’t he come to the meetings? Maybe if they were more oriented towards just a social gathering? <br />
<br />
later<br />
bobby<br />
469-XXX-XXXX<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b>From:</b> Don<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b>Sent:</b> Wednesday, February 20, 2008 8:57 AM<br />
<b>To:</b> Bobby<br />
<b>Subject:</b> FW: hey this is bobby!<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Bobby, thanks, you are so right about opinions from different sources. For years I have been around gay liberal democrats or independents, but it’s been healthy to listen to other sides and get to know some of those people—to leave my comfort zone. I have been pissed off, hopefully it’s been reciprocated. LOL, I’ll get over it. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">This group that I’m with in the study of Matthew is incredible. Those guys are so real and that’s infectious. I mentioned earlier, you would be very welcome, I have had questions most seem pretty juvenile, but they are things I don’t know or understand. Some of these guys even with the enormous age difference have become very close to me. It’s very cool having some straight friends. If Christians would take the initiative and leave their comfort zones without being coerced it would make a difference. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">At the same time, some of these Christian’s have been so secluded form non-Christians they would freak out in the non-Christian world—I just don’t think Jesus intended Christians to isolate—I’ll get off my rant. <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Thanks for your number. It’s appreciated. I’ve invited my lover to church and to the study group. My conversion has been strange for me, but for him it’s unbelievable. He has liked the guys he’s met through coming into our shop, but he’s not a “meeting” person.<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Bye again <o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don<o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I sat back and pondered Don for a moment. He had turned into the most on fire evangelist and he hadn’t fully accepted Orthodox Christianity. Here is a guy that continued to face antagonism from the men in the group for his lifestyle, but he started to enjoy them so much, that he wanted to share that with others. Don’s observations on Christians were right on. I smiled. Somehow we started to figure out how to be salt and light to people who were supposed to be our enemies.<o:p></o:p></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-87425617289127400552011-08-19T11:15:00.000-07:002011-08-19T11:15:46.558-07:00Excerpt from Is Love Wrong? Chapter 39: Bill<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span>From:</span></b><span> Bill Davison <br />
<b>Sent:</b> Wednesday, 1:03 PM<br />
<b>To:</b> SPF7</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span>Subject:</span></b><span> Read</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Hey Guys,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I have had an email exchange with Don, and he and I are on the same page here. He and his life style are being singled out a bit too much. Yes, he is open about the choices he has made, but not always in sharing them, or being singled out. Admittedly, I was a lil uncomfortable the other night in talking about the gay life, not because I am homophobic, but it makes Don look like "Don the Gay Guy". </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Well that’s bull****! He is Don our brother! I can tell ya’ll, and I can speak with a vast knowledge, there is no difference between the gay or straight community. I have had a lot of experience in being around that community, more than some of ya’ll been alive. What I was saying the other night is that we all are in Don’s shoes when it comes to reaching other non-believers. The minute we step out our doors, if we aren't too medicated, we will run into someone needing to know God the way we do. To think Don has a better chance is false. Now maybe in your coming and goings in the day you are surrounded by nothing but believers. I'm sorry your life is that boring—heathens are cool! </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Many in our group have little or no real exposure to the Gay community, so you are not even qualified to judge what goes on there. I can tell you from working undercover and basically infiltrating the scene so to say. There is no difference in the amount or type of sexual decadence. In fact the worst pervs I have seen have been straight guys. And I have seen or read about a lot in damn near 20 years as a cop. Now I don't think this was done by anyone on purpose, but Don has received a label, and it’s over. If Don chooses to share that part of his life then so be it, but singling him out is over, end of story. Don is a new believer and follower and nothing more. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Now some of ya’ll may think I am out of place, but I have received confirmation from Don about what I was feeling, and he approached me about it in a roundabout way. Don and I are the same in as much as we have both struggled with addiction and come through clean and sober. So he and I can communicate on a common ground about what we feel. Now if some are motivated to reply, tread lightly, you may pull back a bloody stub. Been a lil stressful at work. This month has been extra violent—so my BS meter peaks real quick. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Bill</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I read Bill’s email and felt perturbed. I was one of the guys that called Don, “Gay Don.” But what else do you call him? Scripture popped into my head and then everything came full circle and the conviction hit home. Paul rebuked the Corinthian church for being proud that they were so graceful to endure the presence of a man who was sleeping with his father’s wife. They were proud of it. Look at how graceful we are!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Was I doing that? I think there was a side of me that wanted to rub Don in the church’s face and say, “See! This is who we need to reach.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">But the other side of this is that Paul also said not to associate with anyone who calls himself a Christian as in engaged in a host of evil stuff—including homosexuality. Bill wanted us to not make a big deal about Don being gay—to single out his sin. That was the part which I agreed, but I’ll be honest a part of me felt that if we didn’t bring it up, we might be endorsing it. Clearly, I needed more training and I wasn’t sure DTS was going to provide that—on this issue.</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" /> </span>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-58756733130668359782011-08-08T11:26:00.000-07:002011-08-08T11:26:19.961-07:00Excerpt from Is Love Wrong? Chapter 38: Invalid Prayer<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I sat down across from Don at the DTS coffee shop, Café Koine. Don wore a yellow dress shirt with a blue and yellow sweater vest. His yellow pants and white dress shoes were unique as well. He also had on his yellow ivy-league cap resting on his head. He could have been a Steven Brothers’ model—or dressed as Payne Stewart for Halloween. I smiled as I knew Don used the way he dressed to throw people for a loop. It added to his charm. </div><div style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color windowtext; border-style: none none solid; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in 0in 1pt;"> <div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Have you heard from Zoe?”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Yeah, but I am trying not to talk to her. It is just tough when she calls a thousand times a day.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I’ll refrain from saying anything negative. You never know the future.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I still love her, but it just won’t work. It just isn’t smart.” I was grateful to talk to Don and just air out my inner thoughts and I thought it incredibly healthy to not feel judged or that the answer was so abundantly clear I shouldn’t have feelings for a girl who just ripped my heart out. There was this sense of trust with Don that I didn’t have to worry about him going and telling everyone and that I didn’t have to wear the scarlet letter of idiocy. I’m not sure why I felt that way with other Christians, but I just did, it was like Don was a safe place.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Don’s face moved from warm to pensive as he moved closer to the table. “I need to talk to you about something.”</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“What’s up, Don?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Chris, last night at church I saw a guy who looked familiar. I thought it was someone from church who had been cruising me, I often attract trolls—anyway—I received an email from a guy I had whipped and beat right before I became Christian. This guy had wanted me to go back and do him again, with more intensity, I’m not going into graphic details—it’s boring to me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Thanks I appreciate that,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Back to the story slash dilemma. The guy at study last night wasn’t the guy from church who had been cruising me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Okay, who was it?” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“It was the guy I had met online in a Sn’M chat room, before my conversion, who I beat and he has been practically begging me to beat him again. I’ve really never seen much of his face, and never in a brightly lit room. He was at church last night! ****, what do I do now?” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Well, he is at church, that’s a good thing. This could be a God thing that he is coming to you now. Tell him about your experiences and how Christ has changed your life—and you don’t do that anymore.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“He’s just a trick, Chris. I have no desire whatsoever to socialize with him.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Isn’t that the attitude you accuse Christians of having? Why not share your faith with him?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’ll pray about it,” Don said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Don’t wimp out,” I said and smiled.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’m not wimping out.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">We paused for a moment taking in the morning. Don stared at his half eaten pancakes. I drank my café white mocha and thanked God that I have such a weird life.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I got an email from Matt Chandler. He wants to have lunch with me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Well, he is the best preacher in America right now.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Better than Andy Stanley? How come you never made me watch Matt Chandler sermons like you’ve made me watch Andy Stanley? You know I wrote Andy and told him you needed to go to Andy Stanley Anonymous.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I do know that. You’ve reminded me a 100 times. Matt does the best job of getting a crowd to feel like he is on their team by using the straw man argument exceptionally well.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“What do you mean?” Don asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Well, he slams legalistic churches that he was very familiar with when he first got saved. And so he rails on them with humor. The weird thing is that it seems that the demographic that rolls into his church each week has never been to one that would remember thermometers out in the narthex for the building campaign.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Okay.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Then he does an exceptional job of using that momentum to speak very directly to his congregation on issues that his congregation is wrestling with—I want to learn that method—it is super effective—which is why he has a huge following.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“But what does he want with me?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I think you represent the very people that his straw man arguments hammer. He wants those overly legalistic churches to see his church reach out to the community that we politically ostracize as evangelical republicans. Or he might just want to meet you—you are pretty weird.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“**** you.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I smiled.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I had a conversation with Steven yesterday,” Don said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“What happened this time?” I said narrowing my eyes.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Steven is tormenting me, not me tormenting him this time. The last time we met at group we had our usual prayer requests, and Chris, I have earnestly prayed for all the requests that you and the other guys mentioned, I have prayed the single guys would find the wife or girlfriend they want. I have even prayed those requests when I’m at home. I left that last Monday thinking if I weren’t in my relationship would my prayer request for a man to come into my life that I could love, would that request be as valid as the exact request that you straight single guys make? The same request I pray for them, would my request be as supported?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“What did he say?” I asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“He said that it wouldn’t be supported. What about you, do you support that?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“No Don, I don’t,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“What the ****? It seems you desire me to be a second class Christian. Only straight guys can be first class. I personally don’t see anything in heterosexuality that I would ever need. It’s cool for the ones who were born straight, without you guys the human race couldn’t breed, but that’s not me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Don, you are not second class…” I started.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I may be totally off here but it seems you think I need to be straight. God didn’t, he made me this way and he chose me, I didn’t choose God, I just didn’t fight. I’m offended that you think straight means first class. If I have to be a second class Christian I will be, but I’m doing everything suggested and more. The same things you guys do. I don’t have the answers. But I won’t ever go back to feeling like human debris or a piece of ****.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Nobody wants that,” I interjected.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Coming out of the closet was hell for me, Chris. For years I allowed horrid things to happen to my mind and body. I felt worthless. I can’t go back to that. I won’t go back to that and I will never believe God would want anyone to feel like ****.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“He doesn’t Don and you know that. If there is anything that has come from our Bible Studies it’s that God loves you and gave His Son to die for you and He rose from the dead so we could have a perfect relationship with God,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Don looked down at the table, defeated. “I’m just exhausted with my sexual orientation occupying my time and the time of anyone else. I’ve told you specifics about what happened to me, and I don’t feel like I should have to defend myself against my new Christian brothers. Ya’ll treat me just like Christians did before I was converted.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span> </span>“Don, when the subject comes up of ‘is homosexuality sin?’ we can’t just lie and say, ‘That’s great, I’m so glad that you are living that way, when I wholeheartedly believe that is not what God wants.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“You showed me in 1 Corinthians 6 where Paul wrote about whom Christians should not associate. He lists off things like killing, getting drunk, lying, stealing and in the midst of all these evil verbs is homosexual offenders which is a plural noun. Paul is a bigot—or was raped in prison. That is the only possible way that he came to these conclusions.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I pulled out my computer and opened up my BibleWorks Program to 1st Corinthians 6:9-10. Look man, all those words adulterers, drunkards, swindlers are nouns in Greek or English—Not verbs.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“No, a person can stop drinking. A person can cheat once on his wife and then not do it anymore. I can steal, but then give it back.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Don, not quite, what is an adulterer? Is it someone who commits adultery, or someone who just wants to?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Someone who has sex with someone who is not their spouse.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Jesus puts it differently. He says that if you lust after a woman in your heart then you have committed adultery with her.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“It says nothing of looking lustfully at a man,” Don shot back.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Don, c’mon.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“What? It doesn’t. You’re the one who takes the Bible literally,” Don said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Yeah, what the Bible literally means, not what it literally says. I don’t believe that when Jesus says in the same portion of scripture in Matthew 5 that when Jesus says to gouge out your eye or chop off your hand if you lust after a woman that he means that. If you followed the scripture by what it literally says, it wouldn’t solve anything, you would still be lusting but have one less eye. And you may want to masturbate, but you’d have to do it left handed.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“You’re sick.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Me, at least I don’t have trolls <i>cruising </i>me wanting me to beat them.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Good point.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Don and I laughed and I stole a look around the coffee shop. This was the part about hanging out with Don that I enjoyed. We laughed a lot. We could be serious and discuss heated issues and then one of us would crack a joke and we would smile and be old friends.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Don you must have learned in AA that merely putting restrictions on someone does not take away the desire to drink—you have to train yourself not to drink and you put people around you who support you through that.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Yeah, okay.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Well, it’s the same with sin.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“It’s different. I’m not telling you that what you are is wrong. I’m not telling your very being is wrong.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“But that’s what I am saying. Original sin has marred all of us and we are in bondage to it until Christ frees us from it.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“That’s bull****. I still have problems with that whole Adam and Eve original sin ****. That has to be a metaphor.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“That’s the literal part, Don.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Dammit, how does anyone believe this? It doesn’t make any sense. Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy, and Mary Poppins are more believable than this.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Then what happened that night when you asked my God to be your God.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I don’t know. Maybe I was delusional. I have been in a weird emotional state ever since coming in contact with you and all your people.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Back to your invalid prayer. We have been over Romans 1 a thousand times. That was Guy’s favorite verse. The Bible is pretty clear that part is sin.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Clear to you. You have been trained to read it that way.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Don, let me read it to you, and let’s say we had only these words to go off. ‘<span>Romans 1:26-27 </span><span>Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones. In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed indecent acts with other men, and received in themselves the due penalty for their perversion.’ Now what does that mean to you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“That Paul was raped in prison.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I laughed. “You don’t give up do you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“There is only one reason that someone would write something like that. He must have had a vendetta against the Gay community.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Don, you are so reading into the text. That is called eisegesis.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Who is to say that I’m wrong.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Good point Don. I could line up a 100 evangelical scholars and you could line up 100 liberal scholars and they would say complete opposite things about Paul’s life. However, when I read this text, I get that homosexuality is a sin, and therefore when you ask me if I can pray for you to meet the right man to “be with” I won’t, just like I won’t pray for you to start using drugs—because that is sin.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“You are crazy.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Thanks Don, I gotta get to class.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“You always leave right when I’m about to make my best point.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Bye Don.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Buy the book at <a href="http://www.islovewrong.com/">www.islovewrong.com</a> </span></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-15759053473613004052011-08-02T20:49:00.000-07:002011-08-02T20:49:23.458-07:00Excerpt from Is Love Wrong?: Chapter 37: Dr. Kreider<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey Don,” Brit smiled as he stepped into Buli’s. He sat down next to Don and had a big smile on his face.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don, tilted his head and looked at Brit, “What’s the **** eating grin for?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“How would you feel about going to a theology class with me?” Brit asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I would love it. But you know I have to be at the store by 11am,” Don said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“The class ends at 9am so you would be good,” Brit answered.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I think that is what I need,” Don said, his eyes searching for a target.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I think it’s what DTS needs, Don.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Why is that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, they need to see the people they have historically ostracized.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, I want to learn, not make a statement.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, you will make a statement by learning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Brit and Don carried on the conversation for an hour before Brit had to get back to his Thesis. Don enjoyed Brit and could never understand why this young brilliant, talented, good looking man would ever want to spend so much time with him. There was sort of a high to all this. There was an excitement that came with this spirituality that there was something more and this acceptance that Don felt was so intoxicating.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don called Type A with an extra amount of enthusiasm. “Chris, am I calling at a bad time?” <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Nope, you’re good, what’s up?” Chris responded.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m going to class with Brit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Which class?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Theology with Dr. Kreider,” Don said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You will love him. I showed your video to him—the one that you and I made on YouTube—for the class angelology, anthropology, and harmitialogy that I had over winter break.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hello?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Can you hear me? I think my reception is okay,” I said looking at the bars on my cell.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh I wasn’t sure you were talking to me when you started with a bunch of ologies.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey when do you go?” Chris asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know how it goes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don got off the phone and readied himself for class at seminary. He got his journal and Bible ready and sat for a moment contemplating what he was doing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is surreal</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The next morning, Brit met Don at the coffee shop. Don ordered Brit a venti white chocolate mocha and got himself a regular black coffee. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey Don, I only have ones, is that okay?” Emily, the barista Don had come to enjoy, asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, I hadn’t planned on hitting the strip club today, but now I might rethink it,” Don teased. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Twelve dollars and forty three cents is your change,” Emily said as she counted out the ones.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don stuffed the coins and bills into his pants pocket and followed Brit to the Todd academic building.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Perfect shirt,” Brit said as he tapped Don’s chest. Don wore his favorite T-shirt, “Put your Ass on Some Class” Harley Davidson T-Shirt as well as his leather jacket and ripped jeans. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I still don’t understand why everyone makes such a big deal about this shirt, it is just a t-shirt,” Don said basking in Brit’s approval.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don followed Brit into the classroom. Students eyeballed Don for a moment and then opened up their computer to prepare for class. Don loved that no one knew what to make of him. It was like someone in full William Shakespeare garb walked into class. A look or two would be given, but then each person figured that was for some media class. Brit walked to the front of the class and introduced Don to Dr. Kreider. The professor smiled when he met Don. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Great to finally meet you, Don. Please call me, Glenn.” Dr. Kreider said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Glad to meet you, too. This is truly a wonderful opportunity for me. I have learned so much from Brit and Chris and so many others here at the seminary.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Dr. Kreider smiled. Don and Brit went and sat down a couple rows back off to Dr. Kreider’s left. Dr. Kreider opened the class with a cell phone reminder. “Everyone please turn off your cell phones or the ringers so that we don’t have any interruptions.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don took his cell phone and turned it off and put it in his front pants pocket. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Dr. Kreider opened the class with a song that Don actually knew. It was </span><span style="font-size: 13pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">U2 and Bono was crooning, “I want to run, I want to hide. I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside. I want to reach out and touch the flame where the streets have no name.” That was from the Joshua Tree Album. Don wondered for a moment if he had that album. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This was different.</i></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">After the song played Dr. Kreider surveyed the students and said nothing which made Don shift in his chair. “</span><span style="font-size: 13pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The song’s lyrics resound with a hope unique to the Christian experience.” He paused again and looked at the students. “One day, when Christ restores all things, life won’t hurt anymore.”</span><o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Just then someone’s cell phone went off. Don was annoyed and looked around to see the culprit who clearly had hearing problems. As he turned around he felt an elbow coming from Brit. When he turned to face Brit, he realized it was his cell phone that was going off and that the whole class was looking in his direction.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“****!” Don exclaimed putting his hand to his mouth. “Oh, no, ****! Sorry!” Don put his hand over his mouth and scrambled to get the cell phone out of his pocket. One dollar bills shot out as if on a spring. Don frantically grabbed the ones and then tried to make his cell phone stop ringing. It wouldn’t. As a last resort, he pulled the battery out of the back of the phone finally silencing it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">By now the entire class had its eyes on the 50 year old swearing man who wore a “put your ass on some class” t-shirt. Brit buried his face in his hands and laughed hard.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m so sorry,” Don said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Quite all right,” Dr. Kreider responded and smiled. Don’s face was so red that he looked like he was back on the booze.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“****, I’m so sorry, Brit,” Don whispered. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You’re fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-4531705654005559042011-08-01T07:29:00.001-07:002011-08-01T07:29:40.710-07:00Excerpt from Is Love Wrong? Chapter 36: Rebuke<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><div style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color windowtext; border-style: none none solid; border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0in 0in 1pt;"> <div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I sat in class and watched the clock tick. The professor spoke and I know that I should have been engaged, but to be honest—I wasn’t. I loved seminary and wished that learning would just happen by downloading something into my brain. I had gotten into the bad habit of checking my email in class and I wondered if that might be hindering my learning. <i>Nah.</i></span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I’d just received an email from Don about Steven. It seemed that Don had stepped over the line again in some way. I enjoyed it though. My mind was in pastoral mode and I wanted to walk outside and call Don. <i>Great, here we go again.</i> I tried to imagine how deeply that Don had offended the unstable Steven, and Steven had snapped and was now threatening to hang Don from the top of one of the academic buildings at DTS in protest of the intrusion into his life. Don never was one for the subtle.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The ten-minute break arrived and I walked outside to talk to Don.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Hey Don, what happened?”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Well, I may have overstepped a boundary with Steven.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I’m shocked,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“You don’t sound shocked.”</span> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Welcome to sarcasm. What happened?”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I finally heard from him, I thought I had yet pissed off another Christian by trying to help, am I too abrasive?<span> </span>Don asked and then said. “I learned it from you.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Don, you are failing to see that not everyone is alike. I treat you different from everyone else. Steven is not you. Watch me when I talk to Steven and I want you to see the difference. Please stop reprimanding people.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“But I’m just doing what you did to me.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“You are not me, and Steven is not you.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“But he and his marriage are ******.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“How can you judge him? You don't understand the hell that he’s been through. If you can, then why do you talk to him like Christians of the past talked to you.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I’m listening.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I never talked like that to you. I said, ‘I feel sorry for you. This God is like a freight train. Your whole life is going to fall apart. Everything is going to change. You should run away from it, but you can't. You just can't. God is pursuing you. I’m sorry.’”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“True, true, but,”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Also, I had already hung out with you for four weeks. I had already been praying for you for weeks and had asked God to give me the words to say. You did it once with Joel. You did it twice with Steven.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Yeah Joel was not a good move. I’m surprised he hasn’t driven his car through the seminary doors.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Don, this isn’t your strong suit. Your strong suit is being there so that people don't feel judged. Your strong suit is sharing how Christ dramatically changed your life. You cannot be and should not be the reprimander. You are becoming the very thing that you so desperately abhorred. One of the worst things that Christians do is project their own lives on to others.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“But you were really direct with me. That is all I know.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“When you view everyone as a Don, then the Chris solution is the only solution. When you view each person as someone in need of grace, then the Christ solution is the only solution.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Don was silent. I shifted the phone to the other ear as I walked by the statue of Jesus washing Peter’s feet.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“You’re 100% right, Chris.” Don said. “Thank you for telling me what my strong areas are. I wasn't aware of that. I will back off, in AA I do scream, holler, and hug my sponsorees just to let them know I really care. The soft approach never worked with me, and I guess I’ve been treating people the way that worked for me. With God it's a different application, I’ll take this advice from now on.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I looked at the phone for a moment to make sure it was still Don talking to me. That was the least ornery that Don had ever been.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Well good, Don. Hey, I gotta get back to class, but let’s connect later.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-56805896726404503942011-07-21T19:05:00.000-07:002011-07-21T19:05:54.876-07:00Excerpt from Is Love Wrong? Chapter 35: Steven<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Don walked in to SPF7 energized with commentaries in hand. The routine of following Chris into the library, taunting Lurch, and smelling the academia enthralled him. His adrenaline pulsed as the excitement of learning a whole new language and a whole new world that he had never before experienced unfolded before him like a rose receiving the sun. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">He sat down at the horseshoe table and surveyed the regulars. PJ Dunn, a freckled 40 year old mulatto man who had strong opinions and seemed to always have answers with which Type A always agreed. Scott Michael laughed and hit Michael Riley on the shoulder. Don noticed that Michael Riley had come a long way in his faith.<span> </span>Michael Dryer stepped in the room and his voice penetrated the noise making it distinct above the roar.<span> </span>He had an edgy sense of style and a confident air about him. He had a son in San Antonio that he kept making prayer requests about and he wondered why he didn’t just move down there. It seemed to Don that he had an overconfidence that was covering up something. What it was, he couldn’t say for sure.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Watching the chaos of Monday night before Chris got everyone’s attention made Don smile. Type A was in usual form smiling and encouraging everyone in the room, it was slightly sickening, but everyone knew it was just Type A. Brit came up from behind and put his arm around Don and Don smiled.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey Brit, great to see you this evening.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey,” Brit smiled. “How’s Marion?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Great.” Don said and smiled. “Thanks for asking.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The other men came in and sat down. Chris looked like he was back to himself. He opened the meeting talking about how bad it was with Zoe and what happened and how he had not been fully forthcoming with all of his sin and hurt. He then looked over at Don and thanked him in front of everyone. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Don didn’t feel like he had done anything special, but there was a bond that he shared with Chris that went beyond the tears of this week. It was based on a mutual trust and admiration they had for each other. It was strange that Don wanted to be close to a 30 year old straight Republican who was young enough to be his son.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Don noticed Steven looking down at his Bible and being uncharacteristically silent. Don wasn’t sure what to make of Steven. He had an incredible intellect, but Don felt he lacked the capacity to implement what he had learned. Steven caught Don staring and he tried to smile.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><i>Ah ****.</i> Don knew he was hurting. He had seen that look before.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Type A prayed the Bible study in and the book of Matthew was discussed in detail. When prayer requests came around, Steven shared his heart.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Guys, I hate my wife.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“What?” Don asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I hate my wife. I’m tired of her ****. She has no ability to be intimate with me whatsoever. I feel like a complete failure for ministry and I just want to do something where I am wanted and loved.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">All eyes were on Steven. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I can’t remember the last time we had sex. It feels like she always wants me at arm’s distance. Close enough to keep me desiring her, but never close enough to satisfy my manly desire. And believe me, it’s a big desire.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Collective nervous laughter filled the awkwardness.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“My wife is battling depression, she had been in abusive relationships up until me and has a daughter whom I adore, but I feel trapped. Trapped with a woman who can’t love me—****! I get her back by not talking to her at all. She won’t give me sex and I won’t give her cuddling. She is also going through chemotherapy for cancer. I don’t know if that makes me a monster, but she is a ***** to me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Thanks for sharing that, Steven,” Chris said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Don had known these moments before and he had learned in AA that whenever someone shared an intense moment, no one should coddle the person or hug them or anything, because there was usually more to follow—and any intervention might quell that person’s desire to share. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Steven put his head in his hands for a moment and then just stared straight ahead. “This just sucks. That’s it for me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The Bible study went on with prayer requests, but Don couldn’t stop thinking about Steven. As Chris finished praying Steven walked toward the door and Don stopped him. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’m sorry for all that you are going through, Steven,” Don said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Thanks Don, I am not very good at being married. There is so much that I am clueless to, and I need God more than ever to love my wife.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I can understand that. You have committed to her and there are certain pains that come with commitment, treating each other well is one of them. If you can’t do that, then there are plenty of divorce lawyers who can set you free.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I could never do that, Don.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Why not?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Because I am a Christian and you can’t just go to 1-2-3 Divorce anytime you have a problem.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Sounds like you have a disaster, not a problem.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“No offense, Don, but what the hell do you know?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’ve been in a relationship for 18 years and it may not be perfect, but it sure as hell has been satisfying. I may not be straight, but I don’t give a ****, there is no reason why two people should be going through the hell that you both are.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Don, relationships aren’t perfect and God hates divorce. I won’t even entertain that thought. Maybe God wants me to be miserable for the rest of my life.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“****, why would anyone want your God.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Look Don, God is and I can’t deny that. Right now I can’t feel Him, I can’t sense Him, but I know He’s there. What that means to you, I don’t give a ****. I won’t even try to poke fingers into your relationship when mine is as you say a disaster. I know you are trying to help Don, so thanks for that, but I need to go.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Okay, well you know that I’m always here if you need to call.” Don said goodbye to Type A and the rest of the men. He got into his jeep and drove home. Don unlocked the door and stepped out of the cool air. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a water out of the fridge.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey baby,” Don said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey,” Marion said and kissed him on the cheek.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Don turned around and went upstairs to his computer and tried to peck out an email. However something inside told him to pray. So Don pulled out his journal like McGregor and Type A had told him and started writing to God to help Steven. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Marion walked by the study and looked at Don furiously writing. He paused for a moment to watch, and then went to bed. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The next morning, Don woke up with an intense desire to pray. <i>Was this the Lord?</i> Don tiptoed downstairs and squinted at the clock on the wall. 4:30am. He started to journal again and he kept writing until his hand cramped. <i>****! </i><span> </span>He wrung out his hand.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">He then went upstairs and pecked out a message to Steven.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Don Dent wrote:</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Good morning Steven, You were a pleasure to talk with last night. I wanted to tell you that nothing is impossible with God, [look me telling you that—that’s ironic] I wish I could scream and holler and curse at you and that it would make a difference, but you evidently don't need any more stress. And all my rage would just enrage you. If you think it will help, I’ll jump up and down and curse the hell out of you. I'll scream and holler—only to help, I can also give you a huge tight bear hug and you can cry on my shoulder, without feeling insecure. [How's that for an offer]. I will do anything to help you—that is some me—but mostly God talking. </span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I wasn't a horrible non-Christian, I cared for people, but God takes caring to another level. There’s nothing I can do to make you love yourself, that's a process, I've been through, believe me, I know that process intimately. But the other side is great. Self-approval wow! Self-worth is nice. It’s not pride in a bad way. I prayed for you last night and this morning. I am so empathetic with you. I don't know you well, but your openness to share is such a huge deal, that expression is letting go of what's eating you, it's a big step, keep it up—Keep sharing as honestly as you did last night, I have a feeling you’re very close to a huge crying for forgiveness episode. I don't know what issues need forgiving—it’s not important, but you know, and I have suspicion that God knows, what the **** do you have to lose? </span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">[BEWARE: I’M GOING TO SCREAM AND HOLLER FOR A MOMENT] YOU’RE BEING AN ASS TO YOUR WIFE, HELL MAN, SHE’S GOING THROUGH<span> </span>******* CHEMO,YOU SAID IT ALL LAST NIGHT, YOU ADMITTED IT. IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU, I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU COME FROM, BUT FROM MY HOOD, WE CALL THAT SELFISH. I’M NOT THE ANTAGONIST HERE. </span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I’m being supportive the only way I know how, to offer physical comfort or to scream and holler, and I now offer my prayers. Don't forget Steven, you are a winner, I don't apologize for coming on strong—I will apologize if you tell me I’ve over stepped boundaries, but we said last night we would be honest, I'm new to this, so please know my intent is sincere and not one of blame. </span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Bye, Don</span></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-14154030198900104742011-07-02T12:32:00.001-07:002011-07-02T12:32:26.303-07:00Excerpt from Is Love Wrong? Chapter 33: Broken<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I walked into my apartment confused. Everyone seemed to be against Zoe. My mom, Bill, the Brodersens who had become an incredible mentor family for me—all thought I was nuts for even considering such a woman. But why? Sure she was young in her faith and had bouts with lying, but she loved everyone. She was kind and generous with people. She was trying, and she shared her faith openly and—she was beautiful. But deep down I knew something wasn’t right. I went to my apartment buried my face into my couch and prayed.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Dear God,” I started, “please give me wisdom here. I know something isn’t right, but I love this girl. I love her with every ounce of my being and I know it’s crazy. Something inside me says there is something that isn’t right. Every godly counsel You have ever given me is not for this, but I can’t break it off with her if You don’t speak to me clearly. I need You.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I prayed that over and over for what seemed to be an hour. I had frequented the First Baptist Prayer Tower in downtown Dallas many times waiting for God to respond. But the only thing I heard from God concerning her was “run.” I decided that that couldn’t be God, cause—well, I loved her and that didn’t sound very loving.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">After praying I walked over to my laptop and typed Zoe’s full name into Google. References to her being an actress popped up, but then there was a strange reference to her name and another guy. It listed her name next to a wedding date. My RPMs redlined as I clicked on the link. I saw her in a Wedding Gown. I didn’t want to believe it. I saw her kissing another man. I saw her wedding cake with the date of a month ago. Everything inside me melted.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">My thoughts spun and I kept walking to the couch and then picking up my phone to call her. I put the phone down. I texted her. It was over. I hit the floor in the fetal and wept. My mom called and I picked it up. She asked what was wrong and I tried to explain, but the emotion kept choking me. Within an hour my mom came and just held me like I was 5 and had just skinned my knee. Eventually the tears stopped and mom went home. Moms just know how to be there.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I had never had my heart broken like that. I had never been hurt so deeply, but there was nothing I could do now. It was over. I walked over to the window and watched the naked trees wave. I cried to the Lord to take the pain. I prayed that this pain would not be for nothing. That somehow the Lord could use this.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I put in a 24 DVD and let Jack Bauer save the world for a straight 24 hours. My phone rang over and over again. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to hear the “I told you so” I didn’t want to die that painful death again and relive it. I just wanted to fast forward life.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Then Don called and for some reason I answered it. My voice was still shaky and I knew Don could tell, but something about Don made me not care that I was a mess. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey Don,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“What’s wrong, Chris? You sound terrible.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“It’s over,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“What are you talking about? Zoe?” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Yeah, she married someone else.” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“****, Chris, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“No, I’m not okay. I know God is in this, but right now I am not okay. God answered my prayer, it just wasn’t the answer I wanted and I am feeling the consequences of not listening to him.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Well ****, Chris, love is tricky thing. It’s like a fog you walk into and then all of a sudden you are in a relationship.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I just don’t get why, Don. Why? Why would she lie like that. I know I wasn’t perfect, I know that I sinned against her in various ways, but she never stopped lying.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">And then something inside me erupted and I couldn’t stop crying. What can break an Airborne Ranger who has seen the horrors of combat and come out fairly unscathed—a woman. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“I’m coming over.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Okay,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">In twenty minutes Don was at my apartment. His footsteps sounded like the cavalry coming to my rescue and I hugged him hard. I just kind of fell into his arms and just cried. I didn’t care for a moment that Don’s theology was completely screwed up. I didn’t care that he was living in sin. My own sins had brought me to a place of utter destruction that I had been warned about and warned about from the Lord and others and I knew it. After being beaten down about how Zoe was not God’s best for me, I had hidden the fact that I was still seeing her—except from Don. Maybe it was because I needed to be around someone who had screwed up worse than I had, I don’t know. I felt like a complete ministry failure. I felt like a complete life failure. Emotions whirled about in my heart and mind—I had reaped what I had sowed.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">It was like experiencing a death, only it wasn’t a death, it was worse—it was betrayal. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Death is a clean cut. There is loss, but it is a dull ache that eventually fades. Betrayal is a jagged cut that heals and reopens over and over as the wondering if it can be made right somehow go through your mind.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I don’t know why Don was the only one I wanted to see at the moment. I don’t know why he had become like a best friend to me. I don’t know how that happened, I just knew that he had. I think it was here, crying into his shoulder that Don stopped being a project and fully stepped into friendship—a deep friendship.</div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-62392946427881079462011-06-30T08:28:00.000-07:002011-06-30T08:28:30.614-07:00Excerpt from Is Love Wrong?: Chapter 32: AIDS<h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358319"><u><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 32: AIDS</span></u></a></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I met Don at Café Koine at DTS. He wore his leather jacket, ripped pants with the chain connecting his jeans to his wallet and his biker boots. He was definitely the most biker looking guy at my Christian grad school.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don asked if he could buy me a cup of coffee and I took him up on it. Don always bought my coffee. That was one of the things I always loved about Don. Generosity resided deep within him. I appreciated that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, how’s things with Chris?” Don asked flipping the chair around and sitting down as if he were a junior in high school looking cool.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Busy, I have some sermon prep to do, and just a lot of Greek, how are things with you?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Today is a hard day. My former lover Dan died 18 years ago today.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m sorry about that.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You know I woke up thinking about what you were saying about the gay community. My life, your life, McGregor’s life—Scott Michael’s life. Why are ya’ll intertwined with me, as a common denominator?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I think we would all say God was the common denominator,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“But why? Ya’ll are pretty much straight sexually.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“It’s a God thing.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You told me a request for prayer in your Monday study group was for a contact in the gay community, correct?” Don asked. I nodded yes. He continued, “You said I was the answer to that prayer. That is unbelievable to me. You all three, who I consider really cool, and somewhat over stimulated—each have your own personality and lives, all around the same age, all different expectations in life, but all following the same teachings of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit, until several weeks ago, I didn’t have anything in common with any of you. My life is removed geographically and socially from yours. I’m a gay man and have been an active part of my community for 30 plus years.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I listened to Don wondering where this was coming from and where he was going. I didn’t know what to expect yet from Don. I had no idea what God had in store, I just assumed the Lord might use us to bring hope to the Gay community and redeem that which sin has marred.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Chris,” Don continued. “I have seen over 400 of the most beautiful gifted, loving men die of a wretched disease. Ninety percent of my very closest friends died. That’s almost everyone I knew. Think about that. Think about going out with friends for coffee and all of a sudden, they aren’t there. You’re alone. Think of going to church and not seeing anyone you know, maybe a familiar face, but no one you know personally or are close to. Think about walking across the campus and not passing a friend. None of the people you dated or wanted to go out with, none of the people your friends dated—everyone dead. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“That’s tough. I’m so sorry, Don,” I paused and tried to gather my own thoughts, but nothing collaborated. I had lost men in Iraq, but I hadn’t known them for years and years. Yes they were my brothers and I cried at memorial after memorial. It was weird not seeing certain guys around, but I lost six. Don lost four hundred.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don looked into his hands and back at me and said, “Empty apartments, or someone else living at the places you always hung out. Everyone you used to be with at Thanksgiving are all gone. Your friends don’t exist—all the numbers in your cell phone are no longer valid. Think about having no one to go to the movies with. Think about having no one to go to coffee with. There are only people fifteen years older or fifteen years younger—guys you have very little in common with. In issues of pop culture, politics, general life issues, you are all alone.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What do you do with that pain, Don? How have you coped?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’ve cried, I’ve been mad, angry, all the stages of grief, dozens of times, I’ve made quilts for the AIDS project in memory of my closest friends. How do you cope? I’ve never put this into words until now, Chris. I’ve learned to cope. This is a light version of AIDS, and its effects, very light and very edited. This is what the guys, my age, which are left, have gone through. We can’t talk well about it, the loss is too great, too emotional, so much pain.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m sorry, Don. I don’t know what to say.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I know, I guess the reason I brought this up is if there’s a way to heal the inner pain, maybe there’s a reason for all of us to know each other. You are so confident in your hope. You seem to have some much peace. I want more of that.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We sat in silence for a moment and then I asked him, “Do you ever wonder why you have survived having AIDS?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, Chris, I thought I was going to die. My lover saved me. For almost the entire 90s he would come to the hospital and check on me. He worked to pay for my bills. He was by my side whenever I needed him. He was so good to me—still is.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">When Don talked about his lover, his face shone. It was very sweet in a way. If this had been a heterosexual relationship, it would be a romance novel that any Christian would read. But, it couldn’t be, because his relationship was—well—sinful. I did start to see Don’s incredible connection with his partner. It would take more convincing than a Bible verse and a couple Christians to convince him that the love his partner gives him is wrong.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Or was it? I mean here’s a guy who knows what it is to be dependent on someone else. Don’s life was given to him by his lover. Jesus saved his soul, but in the month or so of time Don had been a Christian his lover continued to be just that, while Don was on an emotional roller coaster. To suggest that the very thing that gives Don stability is wrong, is what drove him to feel so angry and betrayed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I want to marry a woman like Don’s lover—Not the man part—c’mon that’s just creepy. I want to marry a woman who would stand by me no matter what and show me unconditional love and would nurse me to health, would care for me, would make sure that I had food and took care of all my bills. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It sounds a lot like the Good Samaritan. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">It’s the story where an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">"What is written in the Law?" Jesus replied. "How do you read it?" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">He answered: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">"You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Then in reply Jesus said: "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.' </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">"Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: HE;">Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The Priest was the guy that was supposed to have mercy. But he didn’t. He did have an excuse though. If you’re not real familiar with Bible stories, you may not realize that a Priest could not perform his priestly duties for a period of time if he touched a dead man. There could be a social disdain for that priest, if he had to be cleansed. The same is true for the Levite whose role it was to work in the temple and assist the priest. If he touched a dead man, then he would be ostracized for a time and there would be no honor in it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The Jews hated the Samaritans on par with how the Jews felt about Nazis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were idolaters and although they may have recognized the God of the Jews, they recognized other gods as well. To receive help from a Samaritan would be unthought-of or unheard of, primarily because there was just no interaction between the two subcultures. Yet it is the Samaritan who nurses that Jew back to health.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Now, I don’t care who you are, if someone nurses you to health, you will be grateful. What if a Christian had come in and shown Don the same amount of loyalty, unconditional love, acceptance, and met his physical needs instead of his lover? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t help but think of that time when the kids from CFNI had taken Don in. What if they had taken him in and given him a place to stay and maybe a job? Would it be a lot easier for him to forsake being gay? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Jesus, in this instance, told his hearers that they needed to forsake ritual for the sake of men’s lives. Again, I’m not saying that orthodox believers can condone their behavior, but I think the church missed out on an opportunity to gain a hearing by leaving the AIDS victims <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">to receive in themselves the due penalty for their perversion.</i></span></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" /></span></i>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-19091153350876462822011-06-27T20:25:00.001-07:002011-06-27T20:25:50.113-07:00Is Love Wrong? by Chris Plekenpol Chapter 31: Marital Bliss<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358318">Chapter 31: Marital Bliss</a></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Hey Don you want to head to Café Brazil?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don mumbled something and then nodded that he would follow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I got into Scott Michael’s truck and headed north up Central Expressway to Café Brazil. We nodded at Seema and then headed for our four top near the coffee bar. Don followed shortly after and sat down with a sigh.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“What’s up Don?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“My partner left earlier than I did tonight and said, ‘Well you are having a life. I am going to have one too.’ Those words hurt. I haven’t been spending enough time with him.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Scott Michael looked at Don and asked, “How did he respond when you told him you were a Christian?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“He thinks it’s great that I have found spirituality, but feels I’m neglecting my responsibilities in my home life and that makes my spirituality a negative thing, cause he looks at my spirituality as destroying our life. I don’t want to be responsible for him putting his walls up. I have only been a Christian for a month and I have changed so much—I have changed so extremely. To him, I went to bed one night and woke up a different person.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Do you think you can spend more time with him?” Scott Michael asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I have to. I need to spend more time with him, cause talk is cheap. I’m in a relationship and cannot make it without him. I never thought this would happen between us. He is being introduced to new people who aren’t gay and that is strange.<span> </span>He has met so many and I’m gone a lot.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“You need to watch it,” Scott Michael said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“It’s so bizarre, I get up and get dressed and am excited to go to DTS at 7 in the morning. That’s not me! I would never in a godzillion years have ever done that. I thought DTS was the seventh ring of hell. I mean I cannot tell you how different I am.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“You are definitely different,” I said and smiled. I wasn’t sure how to handle this. Here is a guy who is professing Christ and is now venting about his relationship. I wanted to be an influencer for Christ in his life, but at the same time I always felt a need to tell Don that his relationship was wrong. Corinthians was pretty clear about this—and I felt the tension.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span><span> </span>“I didn’t come directly home the other night. I had to pass an old cruise bar, and Tuesday night has always been hot, so I went in—man, what a mind ****. I had bottled water, stood around, and then wondered, ‘What the hell am I doing here? Would he be home when I arrived or not?’”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Was he?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I was scared to find out. I just hung around. I did get cruised and that was nice, but not nice enough. So I left. I’ve come too far and I don’t want to upset the Holy Spirit, so I came home. He was home, but already asleep.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“He was pissed,” Scott Michael said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Damn, I feel like ****. I would like to think I haven’t had a part in this but like most of my issues, I play a huge role, how can something I enjoy so much, cause so much pain? I’ve done some really sleazy things in our relationship. We both have hurt each other, why would something positive have more of a negative effect than “some of the sordid?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Sorry you are having a tough time,” I said. I was genuine. I hated that Don was having a hard time, I really did. However, could his hard time be the result of God’s work? It had something to do with it, I was sure, so I decided to let the Holy Spirit keep working.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“See look at this,” Don said. “I have the same problems and same issues as any other couple in America. That’s why I can’t believe you guys when you won’t support equal rights.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Don, would you even get married if you could?” I asked wondering if he’d been setting us up the whole time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Hell no, it is a broken institution,” Don said. “But I want the right. I want equality. I don’t want to be a second class citizen.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“You’re not a second class citizen,” Scott Michael said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Bullshit, give me my gaddam rights,” Don said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Explain to me Don why you wouldn’t get married if you had the right?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“What does it solve? It doesn’t do anything but create issues with someone. It hasn’t helped straight people. There is a reason there is a 1-2-3 Divorce right down the street for me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“That makes no sense.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Hey guys, I gotta get back home. I have to work early tomorrow,” Scott Michael said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I looked at my watch, yeah, I gotta jet too. We will continue this debate later, Don.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“****, we better. You are not getting off that easy,” Don said as we paid and left.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-81883415805114346352011-06-18T07:22:00.000-07:002011-06-18T07:22:02.174-07:00Excerpt from Is Love Wrong?: Chapter 30: Joel<h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358317"><u><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 30: Joel</span></u></a></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don felt a surge of excitement as he pulled into the Dallas Seminary parking lot. There was almost a giddy feeling that Don received when he hugged the straight guys. He looked forward to Type A taking him into the library where the smell of the books just hovered in his nose making him want to learn. Type A pulled in just as Don put his jeep in park. Don smiled as he glanced at his human rights equal sign—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there wouldn’t be any more of those in the parking lot.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Type A smiled his toothy grin and gave Don the nod to follow him into the library. Don felt that he had gotten close to Chris especially after getting to meet Zoe. A beautiful blonde that Chris saturated his love toward. Don had never seen Chris be close to a woman before and was surprised at the amount of tenderness he showed her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Type A slapped Don’s shoulder and they walked inside the double doors to the Turpin Library. Chris would check out close to 15 commentaries every Monday night on the book of Matthew. Don couldn’t help giggling as he saw “Lurch” the librarian he nicknamed for his vibrant personality and demeanor. Don thought he would be better working at the morgue, but then the library fit too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don followed Chris into the stairwell. Type A never took the elevator, which Don didn’t mind, because it gave him an opportunity to peruse the lost and found pile. He always loved to put on the hats and scarves and be silly. There was something exhilarating in being rebellious in the library, but it was innocent enough that Type A could do nothing but roll his eyes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don put the “free stuff” back on the table and followed Chris up to the second floor stacks where the commentaries were. It seemed that Chris knew exactly where to go and which commentaries were good and which ones weren’t. Don smiled as Chris handed him a MacArthur commentary and then grimaced as Type A didn’t stop putting books in his arms. Chris grabbed two commentaries and Don carried the rest down the stairwell and then over to the check-out counter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don’s smile could not have been any broader or creepier as he watched “Lurch” try as hard as he could to ignore him. Lurched stamped the books methodically and then handed them to Chris without looking who in turn put them in Don’s hands. Don was sure that “Lurch” was not a winner. There wasn’t a strand of fun behind the wire rimmed glasses and the pursed lips that prevented personality from escaping.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Did he get a lobotomy?” Don asked Chris.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“He can hear you,” Chris said under his breath.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Can he?” Don whispered back. “I don’t think he can, he is in another dimension.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Lurch handed the final book to Chris and Chris thanked him graciously and then led Don out of the library.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You’re ridiculous, Don,” Chris chided.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What I’m just trying to get him to mumble or speak or show an emotion—what’s wrong with that.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“It’s never a dull moment with you,” Chris said. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don smiled at that. He didn’t like dull moments and ever since his encounter with real Christians—there hadn’t been. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Chris, I really enjoyed meeting Zoe. She is just gorgeous. Probably too pretty for you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Thanks, Don.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I can tell that you really love her and are committed to her. You know I may be a gay man, but I do know something about being in relationships if you ever need to talk.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Chris looked at Don for a moment and then smiled, “Thanks Don.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don followed Chris into the President’s room put down the books and then went to see Emily to get some coffee. She was always good about smiling and talking and hadn’t been lobotomized—yet. After grabbing his black coffee he walked back into the President’s room and was greeted by a large man with huge hands. Don gawked at the specimen for a moment and tried to not say anything offensive.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hi, I’m Don. Are you a Christian?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The large man looked down at Don and enveloped Don’s hand in his. He looked him up and down and said, “I’m Joel and yes I am.” His voice was so soft that Don strained to hear it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The rest of the men filed in and Chris led the group, but Don fixated on Joel. He noticed that Joel didn’t say much and that he just looked at all the other men with suspicion.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don was excited to input his observations and interpretations. He had never studied anything so hard in his life. He excitedly looked in his commentaries for answers to his questions and to others questions as the night progressed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So much information</i>.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">When prayer requests came, Don reiterated his need for a new place and that his store could move to and that the city would approve their zoning and requests. After adding his prayer request to the excel spreadsheet, Don waited for Joel to speak.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m having a hard time with trusting the church,” Joel started. “I feel dead inside.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don’s heart raced. Don felt a deep need to intervene. After the men prayed, Don walked over to Joel.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Are you a Christian?” Don asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yes.” Joel replied annoyed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“If you’re familiar with this Holy Spirit thing, this is it in action. It’s all new and overwhelming to me I don’t even like Christians and now I am one damn—ok, here goes,” Don could feel himself rambling and tried to reel in his talk to make a point. “I can see you’re searching—for what I don’t know or really care, it’s not my business. God has chosen you, you can’t fight him, well you can but it’s a waste of your time and his, he has more time, but you, you’re screwed and your life is ******, and there’s no easy way around this.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Joel’s mouth opened for a moment, but no words escaped. Don could tell he had never been talked to this way, especially by a man a quarter of his size.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don continued undeterred. “Once you’re chosen, it’s over man. You have a pathetic choice—believe he’s working in you or just keep going along with your stagnant, superficial life. I’m speaking from very recent experience. I know you have God already working in your life. I know people, you showed up here for a reason.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Joel’s face tightened and he narrowed his eyes at Don. Don continued with audacity, “Don’t fight it, it’s not a fight you can win, fight something else—but god**** just let God do what he wants to do in your life, it’s ok to let go, just pray. Hell, I even learned to pray, I’m new at this, obviously.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Joel looked like he might say something, but Don pressed on, “This Holy Spirit is so real. For me to say something like this is—is beyond reality. You’re more advanced spiritually than me, but you’re hurting and I’m sorry for that—it won’t get better if you fight.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don became even more animated and now drew attention to himself as he was now flat out preaching to Joel. Chris looked on in horror. “He’s got you! You can run, but you can’t hide!” Don pulled his voice back down and regained composure and then continued. “It’s easy man, just give the **** up and tell God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit you give up. I did and I’m not special in any way. I know I’m abrasive, I know you can tell me to go **** myself. I told the guy that who gave me this same talk. You can hate me, fine, I don’t care. I don’t like seeing a guy with integrity, potential and hell, who knows, maybe a friend, hurting and in agony when it’s not necessary. Hell don’t you get it? He died for you and me and that freaks me out big time and humbles me. I’m so ashamed of my past but when I converted, God deleted it. I see it but he doesn’t.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don took a breath and took a step back. Joel kept his poker face which made Don nervous. Don’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he waited for a moment for Joel to say something. It was then that he realized he may be on the brink of a volcanic eruption in this huge quiet man.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m stopping,” Don said. “I don’t want to piss you off. It just seems like someone needs to jump all over your ass, and I have nothing to lose, you have everything to win, come on Joel, take this ride with me, and the other guys. It’s the coolest freakiest ride I’ve ever seen, but the opportunity to honor God is priceless.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Joel mumbled a couple expletives and then walked past Don toward the door. Don watched him leave and then turned to find Chris already staring at him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What?” Don asked. “It worked when you did that to me. I just did what you did to me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Remember Don,” Chris started. “You are rare. I handled you delicately in some ways and tough in others. One size doesn’t fit all in the realm of spirituality. You can’t just rely on how God got your attention to get the attention of others. I do love your heart. We just need to work on execution.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“****.” Don said and followed Chris out the door.</span></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-21551206304666233882011-06-14T20:56:00.001-07:002011-06-14T20:56:55.091-07:00Chapter 13: Cosmic Cafe<h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358300"><u><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 13: Cosmic Café</span></u></a></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey Don where’s Cosmic Café again?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“In the Gayborhood. Get on Oak Lawn and come towards where I work.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Ummm…give me a street,” I said to Don trying to maneuver my way through the twisting streets of Dallas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“It’s right before Congress—on the left.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Okay, I see it. See you in a sec.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Great, McGregor is already here.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I pulled into the parking lot of what had been a residential house that now sported a bizarre elephant mounted on the second floor. Walking in I knew that the owners of the Cosmic Café were clearly gay. The array of colors and beaded things everywhere shouted, “homosexual.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I shook Don’s hand and pulled him in for a backslap hug—which was awkward. It was always awkward for Don.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m still getting used to you and your straight hug thing,” Don said as I backslapped hugged McGregor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah, well you better if you’re going to be hanging around us on a regular basis.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I told McGregor that I am going to call you Type A from now on,” Don said smiling at me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh yeah, why’s that?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Do you really have to ask?” Don laughed. McGregor and I laughed as well. A waiter came by and asked what we wanted and I ordered a white chocolate mocha equivalent, while Don got a straight coffee, and McGregor ordered a Cosmic something.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, catch me up on what you guys are talking about,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, I was just telling McGregor about how surreal this whole experience was. I never thought in a godzillion years that I would ever be a Christian.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Neither did we,” I said and smiled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, I still have your email from when you first contacted the church, several months ago,” McGregor smiled. “I’m going to be speaking at the main Fellowship Church. I’m going to read your email as part of the sermon if that’s ok.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Do whatever you want,” Don said. “Although, I don’t know how interesting my email could possibly be.” The waiter brought our coffees and I grabbed mine and sipped it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Not too bad.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I think it will hold their attention, Don,” McGregor said. “Not everyone asks us to leave town or get raptured or any of the things you asked and stated in your email.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What was it Don, that pushed you over the edge in terms of your faith?” I interjected.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, that Tuesday night, I told McGregor as we were having dinner that I didn’t need your God. I told him that his God seemed like a lateral move from my made up god,” Don said. McGregor nodded. Don continued, “It wasn’t till I got home late that night, my lover was already asleep. I tried to be real quiet so I wouldn’t wake him up, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, I started crying.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What was going through your head?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I kept thinking about the crucifixion and about the sacrifice of Jesus. It was so moving. I just couldn’t shake it. I started to cry and I didn’t want to wake up my lover, so I went downstairs and just cried. I felt so much shame for my life. I felt so guilty, like I had done something, but I couldn’t figure it out. It felt like my entire existence caused him to go to the cross, and so I just said I was sorry. I surrendered—in AA we are taught to turn our life and our will over to the care of God and I think by doing that your God became my God,” Don said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“That’s right, Don,” McGregor said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Now you guys aren’t going to stop talking to me now that I have converted are you?” Don asked. “Because I will throw away this Christianity thing if that means we won’t continue having conversations and you won’t be interested in talking to me anymore,” Don said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, of course, we will still talk to you,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You guys helped make this happen, so I am holding you responsible to help me with this.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">McGregor and I laughed. This would be the easiest discipleship I had ever experienced. I had never had anyone so eager to learn about God. Something started to creep into my throat and made me uncomfortable. When was the time to bring up the gay stuff. I mean if he was a Christian, then we had to confront him. He was no longer a tax collector, he was now a brother, and a brother was confronted on issues like this. I hoped McGregor felt the same way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, what about,” I paused not sure how to say it, “What about being gay?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What about it?” he asked. “What does that have to do with spirituality?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well,” I thought for a moment trying to say the right thing. “The Bible isn’t exactly too hot on it. It says it’s a sin.” I watched Don’s face for a reaction. He looked surprised and I dreaded even bringing it up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I can’t help that I’m gay. That has to be a weird interpretation. I know that people used the Bible to hate black people as well,” Don said as I felt the conversation go political.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, look, right now I want you to understand salvation,” McGregor said. “Don’t let any person tell you what you should do. As you read the Bible, the Holy Spirit will guide you on that.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I thought for a moment and agreed. If Don had the Holy Spirit, then it would illuminate the scriptures for him and he would see the truth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah, that makes sense,” I said and Don smiled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“If anyone starts talking to you about being gay, just be polite and say that you are talking to God about that and that is between you and God,” McGregor said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I started to think about that. I wasn’t completely sure I agreed, but at the moment I didn’t know how to not shatter his faith and encourage him to pursue the Bible. I felt what McGregor said was true. Of course Dr. Kreider was convinced we should never read our Bible on our own, because that is how heresies started. I wanted to trust the Holy Spirit on this one, but what if the Holy Spirit used me to tell Don that those homosexual thoughts and acts were sinful and that if he wanted to pursue Christ, he would abandon it. But letting the scriptures speak for themselves I felt would show him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We wrapped up coffee with another awkward backslap straight hug and I headed for my car still wondering how the sanctification process of Don would mete out. Did repentance come with salvation? Don asked for forgiveness for his life, but he didn’t get the homosexuality part yet. When would that kick in? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God give me the answers, cause I don’t have a clue where to start here.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
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</div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-61185928766704840852011-03-31T14:03:00.001-07:002011-03-31T14:03:32.225-07:00Chapter 12: Salvation<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Times;">For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Times;">--From the Gospel of Luke</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358299"><u><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 12: Salvation</span></u></a></h1><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I found my focus midway through chapel and after more caffeine and food for lunch, I was ready to go until my lunch settled and it was getting difficult to pay attention during Dr. Kreider’s theology class. I actually enjoyed his class and was slightly annoyed that I wasn’t able to fully engage. Dr. Kreider was one of those professors that made me always guess as to where he stood. Sometimes I felt him the most liberal guy on the planet, other days he made me look liberal. </span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The one thing that I liked about his class is that he really didn’t care if you surfed the internet while he talked. Most days, I would go online and verify all the random facts that he would call out and inwardly would argue with him. Usually I’d find Wikipedia verified his claims. I know Wikipedia isn’t the end-all-be-all of understanding, but at least it agreed with everything that I knew.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As I was checking up on Dr. Kreider’s facts, emails from Don started popping up. </span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Wed 11/14/2007 11:11 AM</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Hey thanks for your attitude last night. You’re a one man show, and for some reason you’re tripping me out with your talk of life never being the same again after attending your church—and meeting you. Well you didn’t say that last part, but it was definitely inferred. What the hell, Chris? Fine. You may win. I’m tired and exhausted and over emotional and I don’t know why. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Wed 11/14/2007 11:55 AM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You wrote in some of your rants last night, “You will know God, but your entire world is about to unravel. Sorry, wish it could be better.” Sorry? That’s what you have to say, after putting your guilt/fear trip on me? I cried when I went home. I was sad and confused. I prayed. I won’t go into details with you. At the moment, I’m waiting to hear from McGregor first. He’s the guy who has been with me since the beginning. I do want to discuss some details with you about being a Christian. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Wed 11/14/2007 12:32 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">ARE YOU AROUND?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Wed 11/14/2007 12:58 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Are Christians just not available except by appointment only? I can call any drug dealer, hustler or sex master in town on a moment’s notice—but you guys are invisible. I guess you just have to be a club member. I’ve reread all the notes that were passed last night. Some had merit and I’m paying attention.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">This torture thing of Don had affected him so much he was emailing me every thirty minutes from work. He reminded me of a teenager so in angst about a first date that he had to call and check to make sure he was doing everything right. Something must have really riveted his soul. But whatever it was, I was getting annoyed that he felt that all of the Christians on the planet needed to drop everything and come right to him in his crisis. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">From:</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Chris Plekenpol </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Sent:</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Wednesday, November 14, 2007 2:59 PM<br />
<b>To:</b> Don Dent<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">For crying out loud, I love you man. Drug dealers and sex hustlers want something from you. I want to give something to you. Just like sex hustlers and drug dealers have multiple customers, so do I. Sharing the Gospel is what my life is about. I also am working on a Master’s Degree from the Harvard of Seminaries. </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Give me some grace and let's set up a time to meet. Right now I am working at the seminary. Tonight I am going to mentor that 17 year old kid again. Can you do lunch tomorrow? I’m totally excited about getting to know you. Thanks for the patience at my inability to be all things and available at all times. You are a blessing and an answer to prayer. I am so excited to see what God is going to do in your life. You are special. You are chosen, and I am glad that I can be the supporting cast to watch God make you his. </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">In Him,</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Chris </span></div><div style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don wrote me back thirty minutes later.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Wednesday, November 14, 2007 3:29 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Hi, thanks Chris, I too enjoy knowing you. Why? I have no idea, just masochistic tendencies I guess. I have the gym tomorrow afternoon, but anything can be rescheduled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m going to talk with McGregor later today he too is usually unavailable. I know you’re studying and I don’t want to be intrusive, I just don’t know any Christians besides you, McGregor and Scott Michael. I actually in a way trust you. God help me, I prayed last night to your God—really I did. So you want to call me later and set up a time to meet? You can leave a voice mail if I don’t answer or send an email. I don’t text. That’s for you young guys. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I went to the library after class and continued studying Greek and preparing different papers which I had to complete. Don blew up my cell phone with calls. He left a voicemail that I promised myself I would check later, but for the time being I had to focus. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The great thing about the library is that there is free internet. The bad thing about the library is there is free internet. A couple hours into my time there, Don shot me another email.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Wed 11/14/2007 6:11 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Chris, last night when I arrived home from dinner with McGregor after the James class and after all the notes you so rudely wrote me, I recalled them and the conversations we’d recently had. I know I have barely known you for a month, but you have made a huge impact in my life. I prayed last night to your God, for him to be my God. For him to accept my apologies for what I have done wrong and that I was tired of all the questioning and bull****. I asked his forgiveness and asked to follow him wherever that may lead. I know I’m not saying this correctly, I’m only speaking as I know how, I told him I was sorry he died for me and that I didn’t think I was worthy of it, but for that act I respected him. I thought, ‘****, how can I as an out-gay activist possibly be my own enemy.’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I went to McGregor’s office and personally told him so I’m only telling you too. I don’t care who you tell or what you do with the info. You two, had the most impact in my life. It’s odd that I’ve only known you a few weeks, yet we are so comfortable. I’m old enough to be your father, so I can say that I’m proud of you. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Thanks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I sat in the library not sure if I should weep openly or do a dance or what. There was nobody in the library that I could really tell. It was so bizarre. The emails—the talks—Don. The Holy Spirit came and did his thing. That’s all I could figure. God used my prayer to save Don—or something. I thought about his gayness and if God might change that. Getting Don to church was a miracle in itself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God please change him.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Before I could respond to Don, he sent me another email.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Wed 11/14/2007 6:19 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Now, I hopefully will still get your abrasiveness but just about other things. You can help me learn Christian—IF YOU WANT.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">From:</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Chris Plekenpol [mailto:chris@plekenpol.com] <br />
<b>Sent:</b> Wednesday, November 14, 2007 8:15 PM<br />
<b>To:</b> Don Dent<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: thanks</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don,</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">In the depths of my soul there is no greater joy. You know it is moments like this that I get all excited and jumpy. Not that that really is much different from my normal visage. God is doing amazing things in you. It’s almost scary. I am so honored to have some small part in this whole thing. It’s quite the amazing story. God is good. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> Would you like to meet tomorrow for lunch? Also, would you mind sharing what you did at the bible study on Monday night? I know, Scott, the runner guy who doesn't believe nor can he understand anything would probably benefit a lot from what you have to say. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I love you man. I am so glad and happy that you are now going to be in heaven. I am also excited to see how God uses the rest of your life! Praise God from whom all blessings flow!</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> This is good. This is very good.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">in Him,</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Chris </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">After another hour of trying to study, I decided to leave. Excitement bubbled within as I contemplated Don. I picked up my cell phone as I got into my Saturn. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey Chris, so glad you called.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, I can’t believe it, congratulations! What happened?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, I told you in the email and the voice mail that I left earlier. Did you listen to it?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“No, as soon as I got in the car, I called you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m really surprised at your and McGregor’s enthusiasm. It’s a shock to me that you consider me a big deal or the situation in general. I know it’s something for me personally but to think that you two guys who I actually respect are excited amazes me and baffles me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah. I am fired up. Tell me, Don, what exactly did you pray last night?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Why?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, I just want make sure you understand what you did.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“McGregor asked me the same thing. Why are you guys hung up on my prayer. Is there something specific I had to pray?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“No, just tell me what you prayed.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I apologized. I told him I was sorry for my life and sorry that he wasted any of his life by dying for me. I felt so guilty, or full of remorse. I couldn’t believe that He would die for me, Chris. It still chokes me up a little.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Wow.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I still don’t understand what is so wow about it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah Don, it’s just that—I don’t know—I didn’t expect it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah well it happened. I can’t believe I am one of you people now. Listen Chris, I need to go. I can’t do lunch tomorrow, but would love to have coffee with you and McGregor tomorrow evening.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Ok just tell me where.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I will call McGregor tomorrow and let you know.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
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</div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-37012358617190674282011-03-29T21:38:00.001-07:002011-03-29T21:38:26.756-07:00chapter 11: Torture<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span>Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The <span>prayer</span> of a <span>righteous</span> person is powerful and effective.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span>--From James’ Letter to the Twelve Tribes Scattered Among the Nations <span> </span></span></div><h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358298">Chapter 11: Torture</a></h1><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">After the Bible Study ended I had to leave, but I felt a burden to pray for Don. </span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Hey Don, I gotta roll, but I need to pray for you.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Don didn’t move, so I took that as acquiescence. </span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Dear God,” I started. “Please reveal yourself to Don. I know that he is confused and that he is in need of a savior. Father, make it so clear to Don tonight that you love him. Help him to see that he is a sinner. Show him that you went to the cross for his sins and Lord, please send your Holy Spirit to him. Don’t let him sleep tonight without giving his life to you. In Jesus Name, Amen.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Don looked at me blankly. I wondered if that two sentence prayer had any affect. I loved to pray those kinds of prayers over prisoners whenever I did jail ministry. Sometimes they would lie awake all night and just be desperate for God. I don’t know why I’m always surprised that God answers prayer, but it is kind of funny to think that God would answer my prayer for one guy to make him stay awake all night to ready him for salvation.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>“Hey Don, I gotta go,” I said turning to leave.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“What, you’re just gonna leave? What the **** did you just do?”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I’ll explain later. I got a kid to mentor and a Greek paper to knock out.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Who’s the kid?”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“His name is Kevin, and he is 17 and ironically struggles with homosexuality. I am trying to point him towards Jesus.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Struggle? Why would he struggle?”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“We’ll talk later on that, Don. Gotta jet.”</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I walked out the door and headed for my Saturn. I put Don out of my mind for the moment and focused on spending time with a 17 year old that I mentored. I had mentored him when he was 12 and 13 while living in Georgia. His mother had moved to Dallas and now we were reunited at 17. His mom had made me his Godfather. I didn’t really know what that meant, but I guessed I was the one responsible for his growth in Christ.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I also had a Romans paper to knock out. Romans Five. Sin entered the world through one man and death came to all men through one man Adam. Judgment followed that one sin and condemnation came to all. It looked pretty bad for mankind, but then came grace through Jesus who provided righteousness and salvation to all. If I think about it too long, it could bring tears to my eyes. I really believe it. This is why I loved to spend time with Don. I wanted him to see salvation. I didn’t deserve the gift, but when I got it, I wanted nothing else.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I spent time with Kevin and then finished my paper real late. My alarm woke me and that desire to tell mom, “I need five more minutes,” came over me, only it had been 12 years since I could last do that. I made it to class, Wednesday morning, groggy with a need to keep my eyes open, so coffee in hand I connected to the internet and downloaded my email.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Tue 11/13/2007 11:28 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>CHRIS, I don’t even know how to express what I feel towards you , Its revulsion , mixed with arghhh, You make a mockery of everything decent, You’re soooo arghhh! If I had my torture equipment I would take out all my anxiety over you on some poor soul. NOW, ABOUT THAT PRAYER THING YOU ATTEMPTED tonight. Did you pray for me, and if so, what was it? Do I have a right to know or am I being rude? This is new conversation for me, unchartered waters. McGregor and I went to dinner afterwards, like we do, and you were definitely a topic of conversation. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>The pathetic thing was that Chris actually backed YOU over me!!! DAMN BOTH OF YOU! I DON’T KNOW WHEN I’VE ACTUALLY HAD SUCH AN EMOTIONAL EVENING! TONIGHT I WANTED TO CRY! Have you seen a grown man cry? It’s not pretty, that’s what all the issues did to me this evening. I explained my life to McGregor in terms I’ve never used. He already knew a lot of my life, but tonight I put things together spiritually and saw where and how I came to believe as I do. I don’t think there’s any way out. I’d like in all honesty to be like you—well, like you believe—I respect you. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Damn, you’re insane, you know? We have only known each other a few weeks and yet we have this incredible camaraderie, is that normal for you? Do you have several friends like me? How did the mentoring go this evening? I would be glad to be supportive of that kid—Even if it was just telling you my experiences to tell him. I’m exhausted and way too fragile to keep typing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Good night. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I sat and stared at the email trying to piece together Don’s fragmented mind. I wondered what had transpired last night that he would have had such an emotional evening. I guess he had paid attention to the prayer. He wasn’t a Christian yet, at least that is what it appeared to me. God was definitely doing something. Dr. Toussaint in one of our chapels told us that whenever a person is asking questions about God and faith that is the Holy Spirit working on them. Well it seemed the Holy Spirit was torturing Don. That was never my intent—well maybe it was—it was definitely cool to see him squirm under the power of the Gospel as I squirmed at his stories of being gay.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span>God give me wisdom here</span></i><span> I prayed, trying to focus on the lecture.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" /> </span>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-32686565087833403772011-03-29T19:05:00.000-07:002011-03-29T19:05:12.820-07:00Dating: Is the silver bullet a myth?No, it is not a myth. If you are in a fish bowl environment which most Christian circles are, then you will have to deal with the silver bullet. I know many will scream and say it isn't true, but reality will soon cause you to face your fears.<br />
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The silver bullet is you get one shot at bagging the right guy or girl in any fishbowl. Once you start officially dating a person then you are now labeled as that person's. This doesn't make it right, it just makes it true.<br />
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Now the problem with the silver bullet it creates a lot of guys never committing to anyone. And why would you? Once you have stepped over the line of interest to more than one girl, you will be labeled a player. It takes about a year of no public contact to start to erode the perception that the binding of two has been loosed in the fishbowl. Even a simple siting of two people the same vicinity or facebook post may cause all to view you as still with your silver bullet mate. <br />
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Now the silver bullet does prevent a guy from outwardly advancing on multiple women. Oh sure you can think of several guys like that, but that just proves the point. You avoid that guy or simply think, he's not serious. That creates a problem for myriad man and he must go out of the public eye to do his work which can make him dangerous.<br />
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Ladies, here's why, if you have ever received a text from a guy you just recently met that has no real content, but is just looking to chat on text, you can be rest assured there are three other girls getting the same text. A great question to ask is...who else did you send that text to?<br />
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More ramblings to follow. I'd love to know your thoughts on the silver bullet.Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-70863750753612180942011-03-29T18:28:00.001-07:002011-03-29T18:28:59.703-07:00Chapter 10: Freak<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jesus</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> answered them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">sick</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">--From the Gospel of Luke</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> </span></div><h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358297"><u><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 10: Freak</span></u></a></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The next morning I woke up bleary eyed. I threw on a polo, a pair of khakis and made my way to my Bible Exposition Class. I couldn’t help but connecting to the internet and downloading my email—multi-tasking keeps me awake. I received a message from Don. I smirked to myself when I looked at the time stamp.</span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Tue 11/13/2007 12:55 AM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Chris, thanks for a lively evening. Nothing like sharing coffee with a schizophrenic homeless guy and two relatively cool Christians and a clean/sober drug addict, gay ex-hustler (who is old enough to be your father). What the hell? It was cool and surreal. I hope the generalized, more sterile answers to your inquiries don’t stop you from sharing yours beliefs, I enjoyed the group. The amount of people was unnerving just as the Tuesday night group is. I’m not comfortable with the crowd and to be honest it’s scary to feel alone or like a freak. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">That’s kind of how I felt tonight, talking with “ya’ll.” You had prayed for an opening to the gay community, and here I am. How obvious is that? My life irritated you, if you want to be around us you need to be able to accept where we come from. It may be graphic, but I cut out all intimate information. I’ve listened to straight guys be graphic all my life I don’t back away and go, “Ewwww stop.” You still both grimaced.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew I was not one of you, I knew whatever I said I could NEVER FIT IN. All I have ever wanted was acceptance. I won’t get graphic, but there are some things in my life that are not vanilla, most of my life isn’t vanilla and it would shock most regular gay guys so am I a freak? I don’t know. I never intended to bring up my sexuality, I never thought it was a motive in my quest, I still don’t, but now that the Pandora’s box has been opened—I can’t close the lid. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I will still maintain my privacy until you can handle more info, I’ll answer any question honestly, but I didn’t know how to share my experiences in a way that wouldn’t make you think I was a freak, I don’t know if I want to be a freak. I just want to watch and learn from you guys about how your life is working. You have sex issues—everyone does. It’s no big deal. I realize you never met anyone like me, but I am not special within my peers. I never want to say things just for the shock value—although I definitely could.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My past is just that—a past. It’s what made me the person I am today. I think, to know someone, you need to understand the road they took to arrive where they are. I’m willing to know as much of your life as you are comfortable with, I ask only the same of you. I WAS AMUSED/DISMAYED THAT YOU HARD CORE MILITARY TYPES, WOULD BE SQUEMISH ABOUT TWO GUYS HAVING SEX. I respect you. I would like to earn your respect.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">For a moment I was worried someone in class might see that I had an email from a gay man talking about having sex, but all listened to the professor, played solitaire, or a combination of both. I contemplated my next move with Don. He showed interest, and I wondered if I could push him toward the Gospel—hard. I smiled at that. God was working in Don’s life and there was no escape for Don. A part of me felt sorry for Don as I realized all that was about to change and the emotional strain God might have in store for him. Another part of me tingled with excitement about another front row seat into the mystery that is the Lord changing lives.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I wrote Don back briefly and told him I wanted to talk and that I would definitely see him tonight for the final James Bible Study at Fellowship Church. I then tried to focus on Dr. Bramer for the remainder of the lesson. In between classes I walked outside as a breeze blew red, yellow, and brown leaves into a small whirlwind around me. I called Don. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“This is Don.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, this is Chris.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, great to hear from you. I received your email.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Great, what did you think?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I don’t know that I am a route to my gay brothers. Chris, I won’t put them in emotional danger. You have no idea what we have endured at the hands of you Christians over the years. But if I begin to trust you, I’ll be comfortable with you and that would make you a friend—I don’t mind introducing a friend to other friends—but not a preacher.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“That’s fair, Don. I just want to be your friend.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, I’ll be honest, I did feel like the circus freak show after I left. It was too much. I haven’t been in a vulnerable setting in decades—probably should be more often.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah, me too.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I was in the hot seat. But you didn’t know that, I mean, how could you? The only familiar things there last night were the knives and fork, dishes, and the building. Both of your backgrounds, goals, and conversation—it was all foreign. Although, that homeless guy may have been familiar to you, not personally, just the type.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, last night was definitely different. You’ve got to remember, I have never met anyone like you with your history. I mean most guys I know talk about how we want wives and kids and to make it. Sn’M doesn’t even factor into conversation,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You’ll be a good family man, Chris, one day soon,” Don said and paused. “You reacted differently to my talk of sex. I’ve listened to straight guy’s big tit talk, and various other things. I just accepted them as normal, but when I brought up sex with men, you both freaked.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, that’s slightly different. But I’ll be frank and candid with you. It’s only fair I guess. Is it normal in the gay community to just start talking about sex like that?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I admit my life isn’t normal, even within the gay community. Sn’M scares a lot of people. I’m pretty mellowed to it all after being around 30 years. There’s not much I haven’t participated in. Voyeurism has always bored me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Gotcha.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I need to participate,” Don reiterated.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, I think God has something he wants you to participate in. I think he wants your soul and whatever God wants, he gets. I don’t think it is a coincidence that you want to talk to Christians all of a sudden. I think God is wooing you somehow. And once God starts working in your life, He is kind of like a freight train that can’t be stopped. He is going to get a hold of you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don laughed out loud. “You think that I may become like one of you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“It’s possible, God can do anything.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh ****! Chris that’s funny. That I might become one of you and start telling people about Jesus! That my friend—will never happen. I will never be as assertive as you. But then who the hell could be?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Then why all the God talk?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m not saying I can’t change or I wouldn’t be taking your time and mine with this quest. But there is one thing I do know; I will never be spiritually obnoxious. It will always be a private matter.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Am I spiritually obnoxious?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well you did have to use a wheelbarrow to bring in that huge family bible of yours into Starbucks.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“It’s not that big, Don.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Bull****. That was the biggest Bible I’ve ever seen. It might as well have been a stretch hummer. You are a crazy Christian. I’ve talked with you. I like you. I’m okay being myself around you. But you are so off the wall, I can’t describe you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Okay.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Dammit, you’re overwhelming and overbearing, generous and friendly and a good communicator. You have integrity, at least so far. You listen and watch and your enthusiasm for life is infectious. I see an insecurity about something, but your cockiness is covering something.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I said smiling into the phone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m not an archeologist, you can do your own digging, but you are real, and I enjoy that. But I will say there is something about you that drives me stark raving mad.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Um, thanks.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Hey Chris, I need to get back to the shop, I look forward to seeing you tonight. I thought I was more a sadist than a masochist, but I guess it all equals out in the end.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Okay Don, I look forward to seeing you too.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">We hung up the phone and I realized that I had walked half a block down the street totally engaged in the conversation. I looked at my watch and realized I only had a minute before I had to be seated in class for Dr. Hoehner’s Romans’ lecture.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">That night during the James class, I wondered if McGregor might get upset at the two kids that wouldn’t shut up and were disruptive. I started to write notes to Don so that he wouldn’t whisper in my ear his questions.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don scribbled on a piece of paper, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All this class is, is just treating people right, why do I need a God for that?</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I wrote back, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Then why are you here?</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don scratched back, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">**** if I know.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I then wrote, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don, I want to tell you to run away from this place as fast as you can. You have your happy little life in the gay ghetto where everything runs like clockwork and everything is peaceful. You can avoid us Christians pretty easily except for the weirdos who scream at you and tell you that you are going to hell on Saturday nights. Sorry about that by the way, my brothers in Christ mean well, they just suck at communicating—anyway God has got you. There is nothing you can do. He is like a freight train and you either get on board or get run over. There really is no other choice. He has chosen you.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I knew when I wrote that I was on the verge of speaking for God and may have been a bit heretical. But as someone who really believes that once God reveals himself to you, your only decision is to follow him, and seeing the evidence of God in his life, I knew it to be only a matter of time, before Don came to the striking realization that everything he knew was about to change. I wondered if Don knew that to, as the note he passed back to me was written in extremely large letters.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">* * * *<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Y O U !</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It was almost poetic. </span></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-73328568220122883762011-03-28T16:30:00.001-07:002011-03-28T16:30:21.480-07:00Chapter 9: Background<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They promise them freedom, while they themselves are slaves of <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">depravity</span>—for “people are slaves to whatever has mastered them.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">--From Peter’s Second Letter to the Churches</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><u></u></div><h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358296"><u><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 9: Background</span></u></a></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“So Don, tell me about your family growing up,” I inquired.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I am from a family of crazy people,” Don started. “My parents divorced when I was eleven. My mother reared my sister and me here in Dallas. She is one of you people: a devout evangelical Christian. But back then she was really off the wall backwoods underground Christian who believed in Bible and healing, women being submissive, and taking us to strange camps in the woods where revivals would last all weekend. There would be screaming and loud praying. I was scared to death all the time. We lived in the inner city and were poor but not broke. We always had clean ironed clothes and went to private Christian schools. Mother somehow got us scholarships. We were the poorest kids in very affluent schools. Some schools were more theology based, some were college prep, but all were Christian.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hold on Don,” I said. “You said you didn’t know what sin was, but now you’re saying you went to Christian schools. Where’s the disconnect?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I can regurgitate the words, but that doesn’t mean it makes sense to me. I don’t understand your God and why he is so hung up on this thing of sin—Like who cares.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Okay, go on with your story. Just wanted more clarity,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My life was surrounded and engulfed by this theology. I knew nothing different. That was my adolescence. Prior to my parents’ divorce we lived in a small town 35 miles south of Dallas. My father’s family was rural. My father worked along with my 5 uncles for my grandfather—He had a trucking company.” Don took a long sip of coffee as Scott Michael and I finished our chicken fajita salad and Brazilian burger. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hauling cotton in the 40s, 50s, and 60s made him pretty rich,” Don continued. “He was the big fish in a small pond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having rich grandparents was nice—it was the only thing normal, since the kids in school were rich. My neighborhood kids were poor and mostly Mexican. I didn’t fit in—anywhere. My father was the oldest son of 7 children. For a wedding gift my grandparents built mother and daddy a garage apartment behind their home to be close to them and the trucks. I felt very happy. I looked up to the truck drivers and my uncles were teenagers—James Dean, Marlon Brando types. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I became fascinated with Levis, boots, and dirty greased guys back then.” Don continued and I tried not to flinch or make a face. “We had a farm—about 400 acres. Daddy would take me out there. I’d watch him drive his tractor and bulldozer around. It was nice.” Don paused again and drank his coffee.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“The only bad memory I have of my father was a beating he gave me for not eating my vegetables, he locked me in the bathroom, took off his belt and whipped me. I screamed and it seemed to last forever. Mother was in the hallway outside the door banging on it, and begging him to stop.” He paused sipped his coffee and looked past me. “I haven’t told anyone that story.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">For a moment I wondered why Don trusted Scott Michael and me so much. I mean we just met the guy and had supposedly been the enemy to him as the Christian evangelicals and now he felt comfortable to share his whole life.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don continued, “After high school I moved back to that town and lived with my grandparents while I went to a local college. I still did the church thing, but not an evangelical church. It was more of a social church, all the prominent people attended. My grandparents, being prominent, gave me clout. I liked that and used it, too.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I started drinking during college and went to a couple of different colleges before quitting. Continuing my education in drinking and debauchery was more fun. This was mid-1970s. Disco was invented and it was brand new, Chris. I loved the lights and music—and drugs. I, at that time, was still a virgin—I think. I may have had sex with a second or third cousin, but he was drunk and so was I—I can’t remember.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Mid to late 70s until early 81 my life spiraled downward into a drug and dungeon filled world of sex parties. I was young, hot and extremely easy. I was the typical party boy. I loved the attention of these older guys in their 30s and early 40s. Now remember this was pre-AIDS. There were no consequences. Life was all hallucinogens: acid, LSD, PCP, pot, mushrooms, Quaaludes, and valiums, I came out of the closet and started hustling in the sleazy, greasy leather bars in San Francisco and Dallas. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“By coincidence, back in Dallas, I ran into a girl that I had dated as a security blanket in high school. She had always had a crush on me and I liked her, and her family. We ran into each other became roommates for a while. It had been about 8 years since I had last seen her. We’d been close then and it was easy to be close again. One day, she asked me out of the blue, ‘Don, why didn’t you ever ask me to marry you?’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I responded without thinking, ‘Fine, why don’t you marry me?’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“The next second she was on the phone with her mother and then within five minutes they were on the phone with Neiman’s for Wedding Dresses and Silver patterns. It all spiraled out of control. I just stayed drunk not knowing who to talk to or how to stop a bride, her mother and the inertia of a Park Cities Wedding. In my lucid moments, I convinced myself that to get married was to do something acceptable and responsible with my life. I didn’t know responsibility—it was a disaster.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Wow, where did you get married?” I asked. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“We had a huge formal wedding at Highland Park Methodist Church, they were a socially prominent family with people coming from the resort towns in the East coast. After a year of planning, picking silver and china patterns, dress fabrics from Neiman Marcus, all the bells and whistles. It snowballed, and I was too drunk and confused to stop it. After that wedding we went to Florida for our honeymoon. I remember the wedding night, she was a virgin and I definitely was not. I couldn’t have sex—it just didn’t happen. I lay on top of her and thought, ‘if there were a hell, it would be like this.’”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I glanced at Scott Michael and he looked down.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“She was beautiful, large breasts, long blonde hair, most guys would’ve loved to be in my place.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Did you consummate the marriage?” I asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“No,” Don smiled. “I did consummate the concierge. I gave some pathetic excuse of being too drunk, and passed out. The next morning on the way to the pool, the concierge and I made eye contact. He led me to an empty hotel room and we had the only sex of my honeymoon. I then went to the beach, became very sunburned, and used that for an excuse for no sex the rest of the trip—yeah it was weird.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I fortunately wasn’t going to run out of vodka.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Did you get divorced or what happened?” Scott Michael asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“We had the marriage annulled. My mother in law came into the apartment and found me and a bartender from a leather bar, nude on the bed with a can of Crisco and a paddle. I didn’t even know his name and proper introductions were a moot point by that time.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I couldn’t help but laugh. “That is crazy, Don.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“It was—my marriage was over and my life was ****. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I met a rich older man and he became my sugar daddy. I had everything that a young gay guy could ever want outwardly. I had the perfect life. Cars, restaurants, hotels, drugs, and clothes. He had a penthouse in a luxury high-rise. I kept an apartment on a lower level. In private I was being tortured. I never knew when the abuse would stop.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“What do you mean abuse?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I was his slave. He would hit me just randomly, just to show his power over me. He would loan me other men to have sex. He would talk to me like I was a piece of ****. I remember him throwing a glass ashtray at me. He barely missed, I couldn’t help but think if that would have hit me, I would have been severely hurt.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“How did you get out of that?” I asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I was 26 and during my time with him, I started going to AA. I got a phone call one day a little over two years into our relationship. I’ll never forget it. I had my foot in some guy’s…” Don continued the story and I cut off the visuals as he described the most bizarre and disgusting thing that I am sure would have made the average gay man quiver. I couldn’t imagine how Don had the capacity to do such twisted things with another person. Don continued.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Someone from the hospital called and told me that Bill was dying and I needed to get there.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I don’t even know what to say to that,” I said. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Bill’s death freed me in a sense. He had reinstated the manners and civility of my childhood. I was socially acceptable and now, a much higher class hooker and I promised myself I would never sell myself that I would never be owned by anyone. I might sell myself, but I would never be owned. My trade was primarily Sn’M.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“What do you mean by Sn’M?” Scott Michael queried.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">Sadomasochism,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">“Oh.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">“</span>I was good at it. Eventually AIDS and maturity took a heavy toll on my life. The extreme loss of so many people, friends in such short time was overwhelming. Sn’M prostitution, and my AA group were the only things I knew, I found a real job, had a real lover and he died. Then I met the man I’m with today. I love him and he loves me. We have built a good life—almost 18 years now and we own a home and a business.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“The Vintage Clothing shop,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“That’s right,” Don said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey guys, I think I need to jet. I actually have to work tomorrow,” Scott Michael said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Well, I guess we will have to hang out again and hear more of your story, Don,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“You two can’t handle it, every time I mention having sex with a guy, your faces get sour,” Don responded.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Don, we wouldn’t want to get graphic about heterosexual sex if that makes you feel better, I mean I think we get the point when you mention Crisco,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">We paid Seema and tipped her well and headed to our cars. On the way home I wondered what I could expect with Don. We gave awkward hugs to Don and Scott Michael and I walked to our vehicles. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I don’t know what to think,” Scott Michael said playing with his keys. “AIDS, family disowning him, drugs, male prostitution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shivers went up my spine as he talked about that. This little man has been tormented through so much of his life. I can’t get that out of my head. Good God, Chris, I mean, I’m glad for the opportunity to share part of his life with this lost soul, but I’m still skeptical that this will really amount to anything.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I don’t know either, bro. I’ll see you.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I didn’t know if I wanted to get to know his world. What would it cost me in terms of reputation? I mean those stories alone are things that you could never repeat among Christians or civilized people. It was too—dark. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">But then, I wondered—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is that what the tax collectors and prostitutes talked about when Jesus hung around them.</i> No wonder the Pharisees were a bit perturbed. They might have overheard what Jesus was allowing to be said in front of him and thought he was condoning their behavior.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I wish Matthew, Mark, Luke or John would have written down what Jesus was talking about inside the tax collector’s house. I wish when Jesus hung out with sinners there was a reality TV camera following him around and watching him change the world right before anyone’s eyes. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">How and why did they change? I think that is the thing as I sat in that coffee shop I just kept thinking about. What made anyone fall in love with Jesus. Was it the miracles? Or was it that he listened? I mean he really listened to people. He heard them. I wondered if I had enough Spirit in me to cause people to change just by hanging out with them. I did believe that the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lived in me. I did. That is how Rob had come to Christ—not by being argued into it, but by recognizing the power that lived in me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">If Jesus could stomach it and extend grace and love, what choice did we as Christians have but to do the same thing?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
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</div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-23947070497193065782011-03-28T08:28:00.001-07:002011-03-28T08:28:56.395-07:00Chapter 8: Dinner<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;">Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black;">--From the Gospel of Luke</span></div><h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358295"><u><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 8: Dinner</span></u></a></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Café Brazil was crowded as always. I smiled at Seema as she pointed us to a four top by the coffee bar. She then came by and took our orders. Don looked at me and asked, “You guys don’t pray before you eat do you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Pray, you don’t pray before you eat do you? I hate that. It gives me the “heebie jeebies.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“We sure do and since you’re here with us, you gotta join.” I smiled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“The hell I will.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">True to his word, when the food came and Scott Michael and I went to pray Don got up and went to the bathroom. When he came back, he smiled and said, “Now that is one thing you will never get me to do. Whenever I see Christians praying I can’t help but think that it is all a big show. I mean why do you do that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I want to thank God for the food.” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Can’t you do that without praying out loud and bowing over your food?” Don asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah, I guess so.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Then please do that when you’re with me, or at least warn me before you pray so I can excuse myself.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Fair enough.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“So Don, tell us about yourself,” Scott Michael said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, what the hell do you want to know?” Don replied.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, we don’t know that many homosexuals for one,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“That’s okay, I don’t know many straight guys,” Don said and smiled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well what made you homosexual?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I don’t know if anything made me gay. And please say gay, not homosexual, homosexual sounds—so scientific—I have been gay ever since I could remember. I always wanted to be with men and never women. I was just born that way.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I thought about reminding Don that no one had ever proven scientifically that there is such thing as a gay gene, but I left it alone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You know we actually prayed for a way into the gay community. Kind of cool that you popped into our lives.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Why the hell would you pray that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Well, for the past couple months our Bible study has been ministering to a homeless homosexual guy. He lived with me for a bit, but after a stint with drugs and not wanting to leave that life, we had to kick him out.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What, you asked a homeless man to live with you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah, well, I wanted to get him on his feet.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Why the hell would you do that?” asked Don.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Cause the Bible tells us to love the poor. They are made in God’s image. If you ever want to go down to the Day Resource Center and feed the homeless, let me know.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">A man with a white tight trimmed beard looked over at us as if he was a part of the conversation. “You know about the DRC?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah, I know about the DRC,” I said looking at the man who sounded articulate as if a cultivated business man relaxing late at night at Café Brazil in his jeans and denim shirt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You try the First Methodist Church downtown, they have some good chow there.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I know that church, it is the one that says, “I am traditional, I am spiritual, I am First Methodist or something like that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“That’s the one,” the man smiled. “I can usually get seconds and thirds there if I save my belly up to eat.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I then realized that this gentleman was homeless. I laughed to myself as I wouldn’t have normally misjudged a homeless guy for a business man, but I guess I hadn’t looked too closely.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">He had a red pigment to his pale skin, which Scott Michael pointed out to me later. He had deemed the man an alcoholic and possibly demon possessed. I wasn’t so sure. But I could feel my demeanor change. My patience for his talking waned. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I was sure that Don was watching us interact with this “dreg of society,” I felt like I had to be on my best behavior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not want to come across as not authentic—I mean, how could I be telling Don about the love of Jesus Christ and on the other hand spit in the face of a guy that needs Him and more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You want to know what’s really going on down there?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What do you mean?” I said smiling and wondering if this might be another conspiracy that I was going to get the inside scoop on. It seemed that every homeless guy had the inside scoop on every conspiracy from the mayor to the president. I wondered for a moment if I should get the secret service on standby. The man stirred his coffee and then stuck the spoon in my face to make a point.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Listen, the Dallas City Council is corrupt. I know people and let me tell you, they are really trying to take advantage of us poor folk. Want to move us right out of town. They’re going to see to it that they get rid of us. We need to unite.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don looked on in awkward wonder at what was transpiring before his eyes. I nodded at the man and told him I would get back to him on that, but right now really wasn’t a good time for uniting. He made a face and went back to stirring his coffee.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Scott Michael pulled out his iPhone and put it in Don’s face. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don do you ever listen to Christian music?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“No, why would I? Are they any good?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sure, listen.” Scott Michael pulled out a set of head phones and let Don listen to Chris Tomlin. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“It’s okay.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Scott Michael gave him another song and Don listened intently.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“It’s okay. Who is that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Demon Hunter.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Don nodded, and then asked, “I know this is a long shot and I know there is probably no way you have heard of this band, but my cousin plays in a band and I was wondering if you heard of it,” Don said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What’s your cousin’s name?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Jack Parker,” Don said, “I guess he’s my cousin-in-law. He married my cousin, Jana. He plays in a band called—****—what’s the name of it—Chowder Band—Dave Chowder or something like that.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“David Crowder Band?” Scott Michael and I asked in unison.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Yeah, you’ve heard of them?” Don asked shocked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Don, they’re like one of the most famous bands in the Christian world,” Scott Michael’s voice pitched high.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Really? I always gave them vintage clothes, cause I couldn’t figure out how they would survive. They always gave me their CDs, but I never really listened to them. I’ll have to see if I can find their CDs.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Scott Michael and I sat back in our chairs and just stared at Don. After regaining my composure, I decided this would be a good time to find out a little more about Don’s background.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" /></span>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-65554366822978583352011-03-27T20:15:00.001-07:002011-03-27T20:15:42.167-07:00Chapter 7: SPF7<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">study</span> the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">--From the Gospel of John </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"></span></div><h1 align="center" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358294"><u><span style="font-size: small;">Chapter 7: SPF7</span></u></a></h1><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">From: "Don Dent" </span></div><div class="MsoPlainText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">To: "'Chris Plekenpol'" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Sun 11/11/2007 10:41 PM</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Chris, good evening. Thanks again for last evening--walking outside was so cool. In Dallas, I rarely walk anywhere even around the block, I have spent lots of time in Boston where I walked everywhere. It’s therapeutic and easy talking. The conversations flowed and I wasn’t embarrassed to be in the company of Christians. Normally I don’t give a damn what people think. It’s odd to me I’d care about my image considering my background as a hustler/prostitute, addict, and things I’m not ready to divulge, all the sordid things I am okay with, but being seen with Christians, well that’s just too much. Weird isn’t it?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"> I want to say something I’ve never had the inclination or the desire to say—ever. I’m PROUD OF YOU—for your military service. I can’t believe I’m saying that, had I never read your book, I would not have understood the day-to-day horrors of responsibility you had.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I am beginning to know you. IT MAY NEVER COME OUT OF MY MOUTH AGAIN—I AM PROUD OF YOU and THANKYOU—from the core of my being. I’ll try my best to be there tomorrow. I do need to know how long this lasts. I do have home responsibilities.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">My number is 214-XXX-XXXX.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I smiled as I read Don’s email the next morning. I wasn’t sure what he meant by the hustler/prostitute comment, but I figured I’d find out soon enough. My hunch on his gayness was on target. How God was going to work in this, I had no idea, but it was clear he was up to something. Here’s a guy who would rather be shot and killed than be seen in a conservative evangelical church and now he’s enjoying hearing the Gospel. Weird. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God help me with this guy. </i>I wanted the right words to say. I had invited him to my Monday night Bible Study and prayed he might accept—and oddly enough he had.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I arrived early and set up the small room in Dallas Seminary’s coffee shop, used by the President and its board to make decisions for the school. They called the room, the “President’s Room” and pictures of DTS alumni, Andy Stanley, Chuck Swindoll, Tony Evans, Tommy Nelson stared at me from their positions on the wall. I considered them superstars for their ability to clearly make the Word of God come alive. I wanted to do that one day. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">My gaze left my heroes and moves to the men filing in. Bill Davison, one of the founders of this little Bible Study Group walked in. Bill’s life had been filled with hard times, hard women and hard language. He made me laugh. I loved the way the Holy Spirit was in the process of refining him. He had no qualms with being where he was, yet he was anxious for more community. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Back-slap hugs were exchanged among the men and I looked up when Don “fell” in the room. Evidently he had paused contemplating his entrance, Scott Michael who was standing behind him seeing his wavering decided to help him make his decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scott Michael put his boot on his backside and gave him a hearty push.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don stumbled in, uttering a string of profanity and looking utterly shocked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All gave Don their quick attention.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don wore some camouflage military pants that he might as well have stolen from my closet where I keep my old uniforms. He had a black couple-decade old, worn leather jacket and a pair of ratty army boots. He took off his jacket revealing a black, Harley t-shirt with the sleeves torn off that read, “put your ass on some class.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I laughed to myself as Don started barking at Scott Michael in good humored fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scott Michael just smiled back at him and laughed, “Try putting your ass on that classy seminary seat instead”.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">At this Bible study I set up two projectors. One projected the Bible and the other projected an excel spreadsheet that we wrote our observations, interpretations, and applications: Basic Methodical Bible Study Methods.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Men, this is Don, he is a friend of mine from Fellowship and I’m sure several of you have seen him at church. Don, this is SPF7, which stands for Safe Place to Fall at 7pm. Anything you say here that you want to stay here, will stay here. We open up about anything and everything.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don looked around excited and agitated and unsure. I smiled at him trying to let him know he was welcome.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">We opened to the book of Matthew and I had the men break into groups of two to analyze this Gospel. Brit Carpenter, a fellow DTS student, and a man that had walked through the trials and tribulations of reaching other men for the cause of Christ with me partnered with Don. This was intentional as I knew that Brit would gravitate towards Don. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">After about 20 minutes I asked the men to report on their observations. Some read from their Bible’s notes and attached their opinions to them. At first Don was silent and stared at each speaker fascinated at their statements. At one point, Don spoke up.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Why are you quoting General MacArthur?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“General MacArthur?” I asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Yeah, Scott Michael just quoted Douglass MacArthur as an authority on the Bible. I could see asking MacArthur about what he thought about Truman or the best way to attack the Korean Peninsula, but what does that have to do with Matthew chapter 8?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Not Douglass MacArthur,” I laughed. “John MacArthur—he’s a Pastor.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">The men laughed and Don joined in spite of himself and put his hands in the air and smiled.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“What am I supposed to think? How the hell was I supposed to know there was a John MacArthur? The only MacArthur I know was a General.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">The Bible study continued for another hour, the men sharing their lives, and continuing to be real. Guys shared everything from needing freedom from lust, to needing God to come through with a job. Other guys needed help in their marriage. The prayer requests puzzled Don.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“I don’t know what you could pray for me about,” he paused. “You can pray for my shop. I own a vintage clothing store and we need to move buildings. Please pray for that.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">And we did. We then walked out of the room and headed for the parking lot. Bill pulled me aside as he was walking to his truck. “You know Don’s gay and probably HIV+?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Yeah,” I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Just makin’ sure,” Bill said as he walked away. “I like him, he is a good addition to the freak show we’ve already accumulated.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I watched Bill walk off and turned around to see Scott Michael and Don exiting the building.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Hey you guys want to go to Café Brazil?” I asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">“Sure,” Scott Michael smiled.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Don looked at his watch for a moment and then said, “Okay, I guess I could do that.”</div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-42490889842992741162011-03-27T12:50:00.001-07:002011-03-27T12:50:36.400-07:00Chapter 6: Unlocked<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">--From the Gospel of John<span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358293"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">Chapter 6: Unlocked</span></span></a><span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;"></span></span></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Now during the final months Rob joked that we had never given him a FAITH visit, which is a visit that we give to all who come to the church if they fill out a visitor registration card and share our faith with them,” I said.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Oh god, you are one of those people? You visit people and pressure them to convert? Damn it! I knew you people were crazy.” Don stood up as if wanting to leave.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Just listen, Don.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Okay, fine, go ahead.” Don sat down.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“I thought Rob was joking, but there was some truth to it. So on my final week of being at Fayetteville, I called Rob.” </span></span><span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">‘Rob we are going to come over and do a FAITH visit, is that cool?’</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">He was like, ‘No, I am over at Schmitty’s house having a beer, not tonight.’ I was disappointed, but ten minutes later my cell phone rang. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">‘Can you be at the house in 10 minutes?’ Rob asked. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">‘No problem,’ I told him. </span></span><span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Now we went over there with my friends Trace and Joy. On the way, I also called Leslee and told her to meet us there. Joy would be the one to give the presentation of salvation. She had never done it before, so we figured this would be the perfect time to do it, since she was comfortable with Rob and she could mess it up and it would be no big deal. Plus Rob had heard the FAITH presentation a couple times before from me and some of my other friends.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Before we went in our apartment, I prayed with Trace and Joy. We prayed as normal, that God would speak to Rob. Honestly, I really didn’t think anything spectacular was going to happen, merely because he had heard the presentation a million times, and this was more of a practice for Joy than anything else. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“</span></span><span>We went into the apartment and we all sat down around Rob. Joy began the faith presentation. She was worse than I had suspected. She read directly from her card in a monotone voice. It would have been really embarrassing if it had been someone from the church we were visiting, but it was just as disappointing because I knew that Rob would get nothing from this. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Then </span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">something strange happened. While I was listening to Joy read the verses from the Bible that were printed on her card that lead to salvation, the air for me got very heavy. I was thinking <i>this is weird.</i> But the more she read the more tears streamed down my face. I looked away so that no one could see I was losing it. Finally, Joy asked Rob the question, “Understanding what you have heard would you like to accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior.” Rob paused. I held my breath. </span></span><span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">‘No, I am not ready, I need to pray about it,’ he said. </span></span><span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“</span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">At that moment, I started crying. Not just the crying that is like a sad weepy cry. We are talking whimpering, body convulsing, like you are four years old and you just threw a tantrum crying. I left the room, embarrassed, because this was so unexpected. </span></span><span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“</span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">Rob followed me into the foyer, and just hugged me. </span></span><span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“</span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">I said, ‘Rob, I love you so much man, but just think how much more God loves you.’</span></span><span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">‘I know, I know,’ he said. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“That episode was on a Tuesday. You can imagine the rest of that week was just awkward. I avoided Rob and just felt weird. But Saturday night I went to his room and asked him if he wouldn’t mind coming to my last Sunday School class. He obliged and I was pumped because I had worked so hard on a three point evangelistic sermon to which no one could say, ‘no.’</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“The next morning I woke Rob up and reminded him of his promise to come to church. He acknowledged me and then rolled back over. I thought for sure he would be there. I had the class wait a couple extra minutes in hope that he would arrive, but he didn’t. Disappointed, I preached that sermon and then went to sing in the choir. After singing, I sat with the congregation as opposed to my usual spot in the choir loft. My dad was there—he was helping me drive my stuff down to Ft. Benning, GA and I sat next to him. Next to my dad was—Rob. I motioned to him, like, ‘what gives?’ and he mouthed back that he was sorry. I was just glad that he was there to be honest and prayed the pastor might be able to somehow speak to Rob. Dr. Martin, the pastor, preached a sermon entitled—get this… </span></span><span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Jesus is the Key that Unlocks your Heart.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Holy ****,” Don said.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“My heart about came out of my throat while I was listening to the sermon. Rob the whole time I knew him was like, God doesn’t speak to me like he speaks to you and in one moment, it was as if God held a megaphone to Rob’s head.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“After the sermon there was an altar call. You know where the pastor invites those who want to know Christ forward. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“I have seen them before.” Don said. “A long time ago,” he added.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“At the altar call, Rob got up went down and told the Pastor that he wanted Jesus to unlock his heart. He accepted Christ. My prayer had been answered, Don. A couple months later Rob got baptized and a year later he got engaged.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“To Leslee?” Don asked.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“To Leslee,” I said. “And it is not like Rob was saved and that is it. He has volunteered to teach Sunday school for the singles a couple of times and has shared his testimony with the youth. And when Rob and I get together now, we talk about how amazing God is—like he has been saved his entire life. Maybe one day that will happen to you.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“I don’t know about that,” Don said. “You have an incredible memory. You remembered so many details.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Well, I have told the story a couple times, Don. When something like that happens, it is hard not to tell. But that is what I was talking about with my faith. This thing of Jesus is real. I have a bunch more stories like that.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“I would like to hear them,” Don said. “But not tonight. It’s late. Who would have thought I would be hanging out with two Christians on a curb in uptown? This is surreal.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Well you can call us anytime,” I said and Scott Michael nodded.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>We parted ways and Scott Michael and I went to his truck. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“What do you think,” he asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I don’t know, I hope he keeps coming to church and that he keeps coming to hang out. I think God is working on him,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Yeah, cool night. He at least listened. I mean those were some long stories and he was engaged the whole time. God has to be working.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Are you saying I talked too much?” I smiled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“No, I’m just saying that was a lot to listen to and he stuck it out. He wanted to hear it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Scott Michael dropped me off and headed home. I went inside to my apartment and prayed for Don and then went to bed.<br />
<br />
</span></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-44127517731085505462011-03-26T14:31:00.001-07:002011-03-26T14:31:20.735-07:00Chapter 5: Rob<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times","serif";">--From the Gospel of John </span></div><h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358292">Chapter 5: Rob</a></h1><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I looked at Don and wondered if he could handle a long story, but he looked like he could and the story of Rob was one that helped me keep the faith in combat and one that had inspired thousands around the country when I spoke. So I decided to go for it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Okay, I am going to tell you the</span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"> story of Rob. When I first met Rob, I didn’t know what to think of him. He immediately thought I was a fruitcake and pretty much like all the other religious fanatics that he’d met.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“I wonder why.” Don chimed. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“And it even came to a point where I asked Rob, ‘You don’t like me much, do you?’ He agreed with that statement.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“I like Rob, already,” Don said.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“But in hanging out with Rob he eventually began to see that I was not just a big religious show, that there was something to it. Thus we began to talk about faith. Rob was an agnostic and a failed Buddhist. He had really liked the premise of Buddhism because it gave him meaning in a world filled with a lot of crap. Rob’s a genius who can talk intelligently about any subject you want to bring up. From how the smallest particle we know of is the quark to the finer points of Nietzsche’s philosophy on why God is dead to why the New York Jets will win the Super Bowl this year.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Okay,” Don said and sat down on the curb.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“I started praying for Rob in June of 2001. I saw that within the heart of this man was something that surpassed me and the average Christian by far. Within him was the ability to treat people right, because that is just what you do. He did not take advantage of others. He treated everyone with respect. He was humble. He was humble when he could have looked down on all of us mental midgets. He was giving. He would go with me to homeless shelters and spend time with my little brother from big brothers/big sisters. He would go the extra mile whenever you asked him and would usually never complain. I couldn’t understand how one could be so self-controlled and not have Jesus. Rob inspired me to be better.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“But at the same time of having it together, there were small holes where you could see to the core of Rob and know that he was missing God. So beginning in June of 2001, I began to pray every day for Rob. Any spare moment I had, I would pray for Rob. My cell phone greeting read, “Pray for Rob.” Anytime people took prayer requests, I would say, “Pray for Rob.” I would tell him sometimes that I was praying for him and he would politely say thanks…with the old adage, “if it doesn’t hurt anyone, why not.” </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“You Christians are crazy,” Don said.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Now Rob has tattoos. And all of them have deep meaning. This may help you to understand Rob a little more. On his chest from the T-shirt line down to his abs is a tattoo of a city skyline. There is a man and a woman, holding hands, looking at the city skyline from a distance, wondering if the industrialization of society is a good thing or a bad thing, if they should walk toward it and be a part of it, or walk away and have nothing to do with it.” </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">Don smiled.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“His next tattoo is from his midsection down to his navel. It is a tattoo of a man in prison, counting down the days until he gets out. His flesh is slowly rotting off of his bones as he sits in prison. On the outside of the prison bars is a fish eating a fish eating another fish. Below the fish is a crab with a dollar sign on its back to represent how Capitalism and greed is imprisoning us as we eat each other in search of a better life. And in all reality, we are merely here counting down the days until we die.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“I want to meet him,” Don said.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“On his back on the upper left corner, there is a tattoo of a metronome. On the pendulum of the metronome is an eyeball. This is to represent how time in always watching us and that we can never ever escape it. In the center top portion of the back is a man walking through a nuclear holocaust screaming. In the upper right of his back is a man whose hands look as though a huge anvil in a cartoon just dropped on them and they are now swollen to 40x their normal size and he is screaming because his hands hurt. Because no matter how much toil he does with his hands, there is no satisfaction for his soul.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“On the small of his back is a mummy’s face embalmed tightly. There is a safety pin over his mouth to represent how the government is trying to sensor us. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“On his left shoulder is a tattoo of a razor blade coming out of the pit of hell with angel wings and a halo. This represents that when he was 17 and at USC he took an acid trip and he thought he killed the entire world. So, feeling guilty, he punched holes in his dorm room window. Taking a shard of glass he started cutting his biceps with it. He cut and cut and cut until a pool of blood filled the room. As he was about to pass out, he called his dorm neighbor and asked him for a Band-Aid. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“He was ******,” Don said.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“When he awoke from the experience, it gave him a sense of clarity on life and that it really was worth living. It was not as though he was any closer to God. But when his parents showed up and were genuinely worried, it gave him purpose. As long as he was going to live life, he might as well live it to the full. Soon after that experience, Rob applied to West Point.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“West Point is the last place I’d go,” said Don.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“On his right shoulder is a tattoo of his mom—naked—crucified to the fallopian tubes. This represents how his Mom who is an Episcopalian Priest was discriminated against because she was a Woman in the church. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“I like that one,” Don said.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“As Rob and I grew closer, we spent a lot more time together. He finally came to my Sunday school class, drunk, sometimes with a hangover or whatever. He came to my bible study almost every Monday night. There were two classes, mine and another guy’s, and he would sometimes come to mine and sometimes to the other one. He just came. He also was starting to fall in love with an amazing friend of mine, Leslee Holt. But he understood that there would be no chance of anything ever happening, because he was not a Christian. He also was experiencing people loving him really unconditionally for the first time and this was a new and hard thing to deal with.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“His next tattoo went to his right collarbone. It was a man straining—like Atlas with the world—under the weight of a very large heart to represent how love is a burden. Now, Rob and I had also been reading books together. We read Spong, Sartre, Nietzsche, as well as Christian existentialists like Tillich. Then we also read Apologists such as Strobel and Hannegraf. Then we got to the book that it all began with, the Bible. We would talk over the points of these books and discussed different aspects of faith. It was fun and not argumentative ever. I had my views, he had his views. Also during the time that we lived together, anytime Rob fell asleep in the living room, I would play my Bible on CD very softly in hopes that somehow it would wake him up and give him an epiphany.”</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“You’re so sleazy. I don’t know if I trust you,” Don said.</span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">“Rob also got another tattoo. His heart was broken, because he understood he had no chance with Leslee. He was frustrated with the God thing, because he never felt anything that I would talk about. God never “spoke” to him, like he seemingly spoke to me. So his last tattoo was of a Rhinoceros soldier wearing a helmet and carrying a sword. He was standing in front on an X-Ray machine. Looking into the chest of the Rhino, you could see his ribs and bones and what not. But over the heart, there was a lock. I asked Rob, “What’s the deal with the lock?” His answer was one that stayed firmly embedded in my head and I will never forget it. </span></span><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="postbody1"><span style="font-size: 9pt;">‘I am locking out love, and I am locking out God.’</span></span><span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Here is the tattoo. I keep a picture of it in my wallet.” I pulled out the picture and Don studied it.</span></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-72617499975534164672011-03-20T12:42:00.001-07:002011-03-20T12:42:52.967-07:00Chapter 4: email<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black;">Do not be surprised, my brothers and sisters, if the world hates you</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">--From John’s First Letter to the Churches<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></div><h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358291">Chapter 4: Email</a></h1><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I spent the next couple days at Café Brazil pulling all-nighters at the never vacant coffee shop. The white noise keeps me focused. It also makes Greek a lot cooler when a 22 year old Co-ed from SMU looks impressed for a moment that I am studying Greek—at least that’s what I told myself. I finished my first Romans Exegetical, a ridiculously meticulous paper on what the text really means starting from the Greek, parsing the verbs, translating into English, and deriving its meaning for practical application. Brutal. I was so absorbed that I didn’t bother to check my email, but when I did I noticed Don had contacted me—a lot.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Wed 11/7/2007 12:18 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Chris, good afternoon. You mentioned coming by the shop this morning. I don’t know to expect you or not. I have no idea of your integrity, it doesn’t matter if you visit or not - I’d like the visit. That would be cool. More important is that your word is reliable, letting me know if you’re coming or not is the best way to understand/trust you, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>bye, and thanks, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don 214-XXX-XXXX </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>PS: you can call me anytime. I’m not always online.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Wed 11/7/2007 12:46 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Hey Chris, interested in having coffee with me this afternoon?<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don Dent 214-XXX-XXXX</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Wed 11/7/2007 3:39 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>What do you know about faith? It’s come to my attention that maybe that is what I need to have. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Thu 11/8/2007 1:48 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Chris, I’m not a co-dependent kind of guy. The fact I’ve written you several times recently doesn’t infer cyber stalker. I normally don’t give a damn, ESPECIALLY ABOUT YOU CHRISTIANS. [HOWEVER SOMETHING IS CAUSING ME TO QUESTION MY BELIEF SYSTEM ]. My ONLY motivation in writing you, was to further my understanding of your relationship, with your god, whatever road that leads. I’M NOT APOLOGIZING FOR MULTIPLE ATTEMPTS. I will now, as of this moment cease any more communication with you, the next move, my friend, is yours.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Fri 11/9/2007 2:20 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Want to go get a burger? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don Dent 214-XXX-XXXX</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Sat 11/10/2007 1:36 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Chris, good afternoon. I hope I didn’t come across as a total jerk in my previous email. Sometimes I say the inappropriate things and the results are opposite of what I intend. Please accept my apologies, if I did offend you. Don Dent</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span>Creepy.</span></i><span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I picked up my phone and stared at Don’s name. What was I getting myself into? Don had seemed unstable, but this might be over the top. <i>God, give me wisdom. </i>I looked at the ceiling for a moment and then back at my phone. I realized that I accidentally hit call</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Hey do you want to hang out tonight?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Love to, Chris. Where?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“West Village, Starbucks.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Okay, is 6 o’clock okay?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Yeah it is, see you then.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I hung up and called Scott Michael. A little back up never hurt. I had met him in Iraq while stuck at a truck stop waiting for tires for the flatbed trucks that carried our tanks. I’m not sure if the Pakistani drivers somehow popped the tires on purpose to get paid more, but we were stuck in Scania, Iraq prolonging our stay in theater a week which nobody was happy about.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span><span> </span>So stuck in the middle of nowhere Iraq I made it to a chapel service and met Scott Michael, a lieutenant and budding musician. I always called him Scott Michael because I felt it might help him get in the music business. It didn’t, but the name stuck.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span><span> </span>“Sure what kind?” Scott Michael asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Talking to a lost dude tonight at West Village Starbucks.” I smiled into the phone. “I think he’s gay.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I better come in case this guy is hitting on you, wouldn’t want you to cross over to the other side—Wouldn’t want him to seduce you.”<span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Shut up, man, he’s old.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“All the more reason to worry.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Come to my place at five forty five and we’ll meet Don at six.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Okay, see you then.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Scott Michael showed up wearing a suede 70s leather jacket, a thrift store pearl snap shirt and tan thrift store cowboy boots. The urban cowboy had arrived.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I think Don might hit on you way before he hits on me,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Why is that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Just messing with you, you ready to go?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I grabbed my <i>Life Application Study Bible (NAS)</i> and headed for his truck. Scott Michael looked at me and then my Bible with a toothy grin. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“You got your sword?” he asked. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I don’t roll without it.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>We parked in the West Village parking garage and walked toward Starbucks. My phone buzzed indicating Don’s impatience. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“We’re here, Don,” I said into the phone. “See you in a sec.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Okay, I’m sitting down in the back with coffee.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Scott Michael and I opened the door of Starbucks and were greeted by the warm smell of fresh coffee and the energy of a downtown coffee bar. Scott Michael tapped me on the shoulder, nodded towards don and whispered, “Is he that old scrawny guy over there?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>We made our way past laptops, coffee, and caffeinated conversations to find Don on a couch with a coffee table stretched before him. Scott Michael and I sat down.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I didn’t know this was going to be a party,” Don said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Don, meet Scott Michael.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Nice to meet you. Are you a Christian?” Don asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Yes I am,” Scott Michael smiled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“What the **** is that?” Don asked pointing to my Bible. “Why did you bring your family Bible. That is the biggest ******* Bible I have ever seen.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Scott Michael slid his pocket edition New Testament in his pocket.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“It’s not my family Bible. I figured if you had any questions I could just show you here in the Bible where the answers are. I just want you to see that Jesus loves you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don ducked as if someone might be trying to conduct a drive-by outside. “Keep your ******* voice down. Look Chris, people know me here. I can’t be seen with a Bible. I have a reputation you know.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Scott Michael and I just looked at Don.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Well what do you want to do?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I want to get the **** outta here, that’s for sure. Let’s go for a walk or something.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Okay, let’s do it,” I said. “Let me put my Bible back into Scott Michael’s truck and we will just take a walk.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I made my way back to the truck and then back to Scott Michael and Don sitting outside Starbucks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don looked at me, “Both of you guys served in the Army?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Yeah that is where we met—Iraq.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“This is ******* surreal. I don’t think I have ever met someone who served in the Army. Let me guess, you love George Bush, too”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Yep.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Surreal. ******* Surreal.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>We started walking along the sidewalk towards Borders. A crowded trolley passed and Don checked to see if he knew anyone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Why are you so jumpy?” Scott Michael asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I’m not jumpy. I’m just trying to figure out why I’m hanging out with you guys,” Don’s eyes rested on the two of us for a moment. I do believe everything has a purpose.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“But you don’t believe in God?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I don’t know if I believe in God. How would I know if there was a God? Has he ever talked to you?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“You mean audibly?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“How else would he talk to you?” Don replied.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“No, not audibly. I mean not yet, anyway. But God knows how to get people’s attention. He got yours didn’t he?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Not that I know of,” Don said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Well then why are we here?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“**** if I know. I just wanted to know if faith is something that you might have and that I might need. I learned about trusting a higher power in AA. But that doesn’t make sense. God could be a doorknob or a light fixture as long as it wasn’t you. It didn’t make sense to me, but I have been sober for 25 years and let me tell you, that is a ******* accomplishment.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Congrats.” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Have you ever been high or drunk?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“No.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Figures.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I have,” piped in Scott Michael. “When I was in college, I used to get high and listen to Metallica.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Finally, something normal about you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Don, why did you even come to Fellowship in the first place?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Good question. I had no intention of going to that ******* place, but I was on my way to work out. And on the way back from my gym, I saw one of those box churches. I immediately got pissed off and went home and looked up the church online and wrote them an email.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“What did it say?” I laughed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Well, I told them to get out of my neighborhood. I didn’t wish them any harm, but they needed to go to North Dallas or something—box churches don’t belong in my neighborhood. I told them that I wished they all would get raptured or something. I didn’t wish them any harm, I just wanted them to leave.” Don paused thinking. “I think I asked them if they used snakes and tambourines in their services.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“What response did you get?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Well the pastor, Chris McGregor, wrote me and told me I was rude and that I was being judgmental about something I don’t know anything about.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“He called you out.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Yeah, he did. So I was ******. In AA they told us not to judge. And so I had to go and apologize for being an ass. I showed up at the church and met Chris and apologized.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“What did you think of the place the first time you showed up?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Well it wasn’t like any church I’d seen before. It was like a big Starbucks with an auditorium. The music was cool and the message was interesting. So I kept coming.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“How long have you kept coming?” Scott Michael asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Well, it’s been about 8 months now.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Wow, 8 months?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Yeah, 8 months.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“And you’re still embarrassed about it?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“None of my friends know. I keep it to myself.” Don looked across the street and stared at the crosswalk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“You want to know why I have faith?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Yeah,” Don said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I’ve seen too much, Don. There’ve been way too many coincidences for me to say that God’s not real. It seems that God gives me front row seats to see him do amazing stuff in the lives of people.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Like what?” Don asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Well, it’s kind of a long story.” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“I got all night.”</span></div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2272738116646396548.post-70579250293250331072011-03-20T12:36:00.000-07:002011-03-20T12:36:16.456-07:00Chapter 3: Response<div class="MsoNormal">For Ezra had set his heart to study the law of the LORD and to practice it, and to teach His statutes and ordinances in Israel</div><div class="MsoNormal">--From the book of Ezra <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></div><h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=2272738116646396548" name="_Toc285358290">Chapter 3: Response</a></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I left Fellowship Downtown smiling at the bizarre conversation featuring Don. I loved Fellowship Church because of that. I mean where else would the weirdest people feel comfortable? I pulled into café Brazil, waved at my waitress, Seema. She nodded as I went to a two-top in corner. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">She brought me a fruit plate and smiled and went to the other customers. There was a special feeling about being a regular—a sense of comfort from being known. I pulled out my Greek homework and started to get to the parsing of verbs that made my eyes roll into the back of my head.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I pulled the laptop out and it instantly started downloading email.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I saw a message from Don and as I read it, I laughed out loud. <i>Who was this guy? </i>I read the last few lines of the email over again and continued laughing. A couple sitting next to me gave me an evil eye and I realized I might have been just a little loud. I notice Seema smiling at me and I smiled back. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO LISTENING TO YOUR OPINIONS, IF YOU’RE NOT REAL WITH ME, YOU WILL LOSE ANY RESPECT YOU MAY HAVE RECEIVED. I know I sound like an ass, but this Christian thing is affecting me and I’m cautious as to what I put into my mind.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Questions started popping into my head. I couldn’t stop them. I wanted to return his email, but right now I had too much work to do. If I got into an email exchange now I might never return to reality. I quickly prayed that God would work things out with Don and give me the words to say and the right attitude about serving this character. I knew God was working in him. It had to be only a matter of time until God got his way in Don’s life. It was hard, but I disconnected from the internet and forced myself to focus on this Greek. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Dr. Hoehner, my Romans professor, was killing me. I mean the guy was brilliant and had set a standard way above us average folk as far as what he expected from us. I had learned back at West Point to quit whining when something got hard. I figured if it wasn’t hard, it wouldn’t be Dallas Seminary. I signed up for the best, and I was definitely getting it. I also had a quiz that I wasn’t looking forward to the following day and the New Testament department was more like the Grinch than Santa when it came to grades.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Do you want more coffee, Chris?” Seema asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">“Yeah, it’s gonna be a long night.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">There was a man there, his name Zacchaeus, the head tax man and quite rich. He wanted desperately to see Jesus, but the crowd was in his way</div><div class="MsoNormal">--From the Gospel of Luke <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></div><h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="" name="_Toc285358289">Chapter 2: Euphoric</a></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don went with Chris McGregor for a sandwich. It was late, but McGregor didn’t seem to mind. Don knew that Don’s euphoric nature was intoxicating as he sounded like an iPod stuck on replay recounting the events of the night as if Christine Amanpour. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“**** tonight was surreal, Chris,” Don kept saying. McGregor nodded.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>“Who knew that people believed in these crazy metaphors as real life. I mean who knew that anyone would believe this stuff.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don wanted more of that and he didn’t even know why. He gave no thought to manners and just talked and chewed and talked and chewed. McGregor just listened. He was always good at that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don just knew that this was a new high and he wanted to continue the conversation. He got home, but didn’t go to bed right away, he grabbed his computer and pecked out a message to the other Chris—Chris Plekenpol, Type A Chris.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Tue 11/6/2007 10:48 PM</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Hey Chris,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Good seeing you tonight. I’ve missed your smart-ass comments toward me. I didn’t get to fully appreciate the nuance of Chris last time, since you had to leave so soon. Tonight was surreal. I have never been in a conversation with 3 other Christian guys and I did feel overwhelmed. It was a high for me I didn’t want to come down from. Why? Hell, if I know, I never have had that opportunity. I really enjoyed it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Tonight after group, I went to grab a sandwich with Chris McGregor, He’s cool, and I‘m grateful for his friendship. He is real; I can scent bull**** a mile away, usually. I have been conned, but not easily. Are you for real? I will find out if you’re full of ****. Don’t try to pull one over on me. I won’t bull**** you. Fair? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>I get you from the book, at least the Iraq part, but the analogies? Like I said tonight, is everything a Christian analogy—even spilling coffee? It’s sorta over whelming to grasp. You’re overwhelming to grasp. I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO LISTENING TO YOUR OPINIONS, IF YOU’RE NOT REAL WITH ME, YOU WILL LOSE ANY RESPECT YOU MAY HAVE RECEIVED. I know I sound like an ass, but this Christian thing is affecting me and I’m cautious as to what I put into my mind. I hope you can appreciate my candidness, I don’t know how to be anything other than who I am, sorry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span><span> </span>Thanks again for your cockiness, I do get that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>Don. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span>He hit send and smiled at his own wit. <i>That was a good email.</i> Don left his computer in the study and went to the bedroom where his partner was already asleep. He kissed him on the cheek and got in bed—but couldn’t sleep. He thought about Jesus and Christians and what their real motive was. He would find out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Is Love Wrong by Chris Plekenpolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00885695658783526299noreply@blogger.com0