It's Just "Guy Talk"

“It’s just guy talk.”

Man, I hate this phrase. Especially after this weekend.
So let me begin by stating this up front…

No.

No, it’s not.

As I sit here today on my couch, I am a husband to a wife.

I am a son to a mother.

I am a brother to a sister.

I am an uncle to nieces.

I am a great-uncle to great-nieces.

I am a grandson to grandmothers.

I am a nephew to aunts.

I am a friend, cousin, and co-worker to many women.

I am a teacher of both young men and young women.

And I’m also hoping that maybe one day I’ll get the chance to be a dad to a daughter.

I am a guy.

And yet for the life of me,

I can’t possibly think of a single instance where I would be ok with ANY guy talking about or treating ANY women or girls in my life in a way that was lewd, objectifying, demeaning, or sexist.

Not one.

So no. It’s not just “guy talk.”

Not only that, I can’t think of a single instance where I would be ok with my nephews, the boys and young men that I teach, or even my future sons becoming men who thought it was ok to talk about or treat women in a way that was lewd, objectifying, demeaning, or sexist.

Not one.

So no. It’s not just “guy talk.”

In fact, if any guy I know is in any of the categories I just mentioned, and he DOESN’T have a problem with someone talking about or treating the females in his life in a way that is lewd, objectifying, demeaning, or sexist, then I am truly nervous for those women and girls.

I can’t imagine ever being ok with my daughter growing up even slightly thinking she’s less-than, because of so-called “guy talk.”

But I also have to say, I even feel bad for the guy who actually believes that talking cheaply about women is “just guy talk.”

Because he has proudly and blindly swallowed a harmful lie.

Hook, line, and sinker. 

IT’S AN ENABLING PHRASE

Some argue that words are just words. Talk is just talk, after all.

But you see, words always encompass an idea. A thought. A belief.

When used well, talk can be powerful, especially if the core idea is good.

If the core idea is harmful, or demeaning, words can sometimes end up causing damage, either directly, or even indirectly by deemphasizing the REAL consequences of the idea that they’re connected to.

It’s the mental equivalent of wrapping a towel around a sledgehammer.

Sure we “know” that objectifying women is a terrible thing to do.

Sure we “know” that treating women unfairly is wrong.

Sure we “know” that assaulting women is no laughing matter.

But if we joke about it…it can become one.

Words and ideas always pave the way for actions.

If you believe “it’s what guys say,” it can become what you say.

If you believe “it’s how guys think,” it can become what you think.

If you believe “it’s what guys do,” then it can become what you do.

Jesus put it this way: “what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person.”

Simply put, our words, whether spoken publicly or “privately,” matter.

Our hearts shout the loudest through the words we speak in secret.

SIDE NOTE: this is why it boggles my mind that any professing believer or follower of Jesus would even CONSIDER uttering or ignoring the phrase “It’s just guy talk.” We cannot say we are wholeheartedly following Jesus’ teachings in moments when we perpetuate this lie. 

Jesus makes NO distinction between our thoughts, our words, and our actions.

Lusting after someone is the same thing as actually taking advantage of them.

Hating someone is the same as killing them.

Calling someone a name can invoke the wrath of hellfire.

A little extreme, right? A little shocking, right?

Of course. Because these extremes point to a truth: our thoughts, our words, can eventually become actions. Like seeds bearing poisonous fruit.

TRUTH: WORDS BECOME REALITY

Regardless of who you are, if I can look down on you in my mind, if I can disrespect you with my jokes, if I can minimize you with my words, then it’s the very same thing as actually harming you, because if I can allow my self to imagine you as being below me, or not worthy of dignity, I will eventually treat you that way.

(By the way, the same thing goes for how we treat other ethnicities and even people from other religions, but that’s for another post.)

But if instead, I choose to see you the way we were both created –in the image of God– then that means two things:

• we are of equal value
• that value is higher than I can afford

Which makes YOU worth talking about with integrity.

Which makes YOU worth uplifting with my words and actions.

Which makes YOU…

…worth me exerting self control around

…worth me treating fairly

…worth me seeking your best interests and goodwill.

According to the creation story, it even makes you worth dying for.

So no.
I will NOT be teaching my future son that it's ok to objectify women, to treat them as less-than, or speak lewdly of them, just as long as he says it behind closed doors with other guys.
Because it is not ok. Ever. Even if the whole world is doing it.
That's weak. And I want him to learn to be strong.

I will NOT ignore, or worse: attempt to justify, when I see others do it, regardless of who they are or what position they are in, lest I teach my future daughters and sons that it's ok for them to do the same.

I will NOT perpetuate a phrase or an idea that allows someone to willingly and shamelessly devalue someone else, because if they devalue someone else in their eyes, they also devalue themselves at the same time.

Integrity, Strength. Honor, Self control, Encouragement...

This is real “guy talk.”

Anything else is just plain foolishness.

Trailer Park Pastor - The Next Chapter

“This is your last walk home.”

The thought plummeted from my head to my gut yesterday as I paused on the trail that bridges the trailer park to the church parking lot.

The trail itself suddenly seemed sacred to me. If there had ever been holy ground in my life, I was certainly standing on it right then. 
And after nearly five years, this was the final trek.

To be completely candid, I had originally expected this day to come sooner than it did. When I unpacked my life and few belongings into that doublewide in the Fall of 2011, I planned on giving it two years. I had no clue what to expect. I just figured I’d learn a little, teach a little, do some Good, then I’d be off to my next venture.

God, as he often does, had other plans.

For two years turned into three. Then four.

Then one day last summer, my life altered course.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a crazy weekend, as most summer weekends are at church. But I remember that day vividly. Due to a fluke (aka a hot, sunny day), a sudden shortage of adults left us a tinge outnumbered by children. Our staff was testy, the children were testing, and I was having a hard time finding a smile to stick on my face.

Luckily, I bumped into someone who had enough smiles to share.

Well, ‘bumped’ might be too tame of a word, truthfully.

A tsunami of kids bounded and bansheed around the corner, bowling me over. But in the middle of the deafening wave, I noticed a smile.

Perhaps I noticed it because it was the first one I’d seen all day.

Or perhaps because the smile stood about twice as tall as the wave.

Regardless, I saw the smile, and when its owner saw me, the smile split into a laugh and shouted “This is so much fun!”

“Well it is, now!” I thought.

I discovered that the smile belonged to a beautiful gal named Elizabeth. At that very moment, she lent me a smile, and a year later I still haven’t given it back. People say it looks good on me, and I tend to agree, so I’m planning on just keeping it. She’s got more than enough of them anyway.

~~~~~~~

In a few short days, I’ll be marrying the girl who gave me my smile.

We’ll be packing my bag and moving it to join hers in a cool little town that has practically everything. Well, everything except a discernable street pattern.

Amid the avalanche of feelings in my head and heart, joy and excitement currently have the lead in delegate counts. Don’t get me wrong… there are other feelings in the running, but there will be no contested convention in my July.

The only thing that outnumbers the feelings in my head is the amount of questions I’ve been asked. And none has been asked more than this: What am I going to do with the trailer?

Will I sell it? Will I move it? Will I turn it into a spaceship? (Kindergarteners rock.)

Well, the much-awaited answer is…

I’m giving it away.

Why?

Because I didn’t pay a dime for it. 

Since someone bought it and gave it to me, the least I could do is give it to someone else.

Although I never knew when I would leave the park, I always knew that whenever it happened, I wanted to give it away.

So as soon as I DID know that I was moving out, I started praying and asking God to send someone who wanted to take over. I didn’t want to have to search. Planning a wedding would give me enough to do.

I asked him to have this person seek ME out, since this kind of work requires a person with high initiative.

I asked him to send someone who would be coming with a roommate, because it’s difficult to do it alone.

I asked him to send someone who could take it over immediately after my wedding, because summertime is the best time to connect in the neighborhood.

And as He has done with every prayer that I’ve prayed about/for this place…

(That’s right… Every. Single. Prayer.)

…He answered it.

About a month later, an intern at our church asked if she could talk to me. She wasn’t in my department, and I didn’t know her well. I’m not sure we had ever had a single conversation before.

Not knowing that I would be moving out, she told me she felt like God was pushing on her heart to do trailer park ministry stuff like I was doing, and she wanted to know how I thought she should go about getting started.

I asked her if she had a neighborhood picked out, and she said she hadn’t.

I asked her if she was planning on doing this venture alone, and she said her roommate was planning on doing it with her.

I asked her when she was hoping to move into a new place and she said they were looking at July. Right after my wedding.

I then asked her if she wanted my house.

Because if she did, it was hers.

No strings attached.

No expectations.

Because that’s how it was given to me.

Needless to say… we are excited to announce that in July, I will be turning the trailer and the trailer park ministry over to Brooke Holtslag.

If you don’t know who she is, you need to. She’s awesome.

And we can’t wait to see what God is going to do through her.

~~~~~~~

There are so many things I could write right now.
And by the grace of God maybe one day I will.

But wedding details await.

So for now, with grateful tears swelling my eyes (seriously, the people in Starbucks must think me crazy), I have one last thing to say today.

Thank you.

Thank you to every person who has supported this journey.

Thank you to every person who…

tutored a park kid

sent a kid to camp

bought a Christmas gift

filled and hid an Easter egg

gave furniture

helped a resident find a job

volunteered at VBS

donated snacks

lead a Bible study

picked up trash
sent your kid to pick up trash

covered a utility bill for a single mom

dropped off a Thanksgiving dinner

planted a flower in someone’s yard

mowed a lawn

raked some leaves

fixed a leaky toilet

painted a wall
lead a game of soccer on the playground

gave a ride to a resident

lead a small group

joined me in praying for my neighbors

loved like Jesus

replaced a window or two (or eleven)

You have no idea how you’ve impacted me.

You have no idea how you’ve impacted them.

You have no idea how you’ve impacted the world.

Thank you for being the hands and feet of Jesus to this community.

Elizabeth and I have NO idea what’s next.

But if the last five years are any indication, we know it’s gonna be one great, wild ride.

“Come further up, come further in!” – C.S. Lewis

Not Just Regular Guys

Gentlemen.

I have something to tell you.  Something you need to know:

I’m not who I should be, and I’m not who you think I am.

Before I explain, let me introduce you to a couple of men:

Roscoe, Carl, Randy, Dave C., Raymond

Bob, Tommy, Matt M, Dave O, PJ

If you met any one of them on the street tomorrow, you probably wouldn’t take much notice. In fact, most of them were just “regular” guys.

One guy fixes computers.

One works at the GM plant in Flint.

One crunches numbers at a bank.

One sets up displays at Home Depot

One guy is between jobs.

When I first met them, some were married. Some were not. Some had kids. Some did not.

One dude was 19. One guy was my dad’s age.

And I think one of them went to high school with Moses.

To themselves and others, they were ordinary. But to me? They were extraordinary.

Because at some point, each of them were MY leader or teacher at church when I was young.

I’M NOT WHO I SHOULD BE

I say this, because if the events in my story and my family history were tossed into a statistic, I SHOULD be an absolute trainwreck. Or living in a van down by the river at the very least.

But thanks to Jesus, I’m not.

And thanks to these dudes who joined others in telling me about Jesus, I’m not.

These guys showed up, and they didn’t have to.

Looking back, most of them weren’t even “qualified” for the job.

They didn’t have all the answers to my questions. And it was ok.

Heck, they didn’t have all the answers to their OWN questions. And it was ok.

They were busy guys, with busy lives. Sometimes they took weekends off from leading us. And it was ok.

Very few of them lead us because working with kids was “their thing.” And it was ok.

One was my leader for only a year. Another for 3 years. And it was ok.

Most of them were just trying to figure things out themselves. And it was ok.

NONE of them had any idea how to make me shut up and sit still. And it was ok.

In fact, for me, it was MORE than ok.

For me, it was life-shaping, because I got to see how “regular guys” live out their faith. Which in turn helped me figure out my own faith a little more each week, and slowly changed the course of my life one fist bump at a time.

I’M NOT WHO YOU THINK I AM

By nature of the job, most ministers pretty much live in the spotlight.

Some love the idea, and it suits them well.

Some of us, however, are sometimes horrified by it.

For me, the thing prickles the most is the thought that when people see me serve/speak/lead, they might think that it’s me.

I shudder at the notion that someone might think I do what I do simply because it’s “who I am.”

Because what people DON’T know is that…

Every time I get on stage to speak, they see a little bit of Randy & Tommy

Every time I embark on a faith conversation, they see a little bit of Raymond & Roscoe

Every time I lead a worship song, they see a little bit of Carl

Every time I pray with someone, they see a little bit of Bob & Dave O.

Every time I read a Bible verse out loud, they see a little bit of Dave C.

Every time I serve and meet a need, they see a little bit of Matt

Every time I toilet-paper a house, visit my students at lunch, or encourage kids to eat disgusting foods on stage so they’ll remember a bible story, they see a whole lot of PJ

So again, gentlemen,

I’m not who you think I am, and I’m not who I should be.

Because of these “regular” guys.

And every weekend in KKids, we have classrooms full of FUTURE men who are in need of CURRENT men to come help them become the men that they “shouldn’t” be.

They’re in need of some “regular guys” who are willing to give up a couple dozen hours a year to show them what it looks like to be a “regular guy” who prays, who serves, who learns, and who loves God and others.

And there seems to be a shortage of men who are willing to step up to the plate.

FUTURE MEN WITH FUTURE LISTS

I am fully convinced that there are future Dave Wilsons running through our kids’ area every weekend. There are future Steve Andrews laughing obnoxiously loud while silently plotting their plans to change the world. There are future Ryan Morrills thinking deeply about pioneering new lands, future Dave Shumans breaking all our rules, and even future PJ’s (Heaven help us).

There are also future Roscoes, Carls, Raymonds, Randys, Daves, Bobs, Tommys, and Matts who will be “ordinary” guys who do extraordinary things in the lives of others.

And I guarantee you that none of these future men are looking for qualified experts.

However, all of them ARE looking for a familiar face,

an exploding fist-bump.

a person who knows their name

a person willing to pray with them (we’ll even teach you how)

a person willing to pray FOR them all week

a person willing to play games with them (we’ll even provide the stuff)

a person willing to toss them a football

a person willing to ask them questions that will help them learn and apply the most important truths they’ll ever hear (we’ll even provide the questions!)

Right now, regardless of whether or not he knows it, every single one of these future men in our program is ALREADY forming a list of his own. A list of “regular guys” who helped shape his life, one fist bump at a time. 

Wouldn’t it be great if one of the names on those future lists was yours?

All you gotta do is say yes.

(If any of this interests you at all, send me an email, or send me a message. You don’t need to be a professional. We’ll do our best to help you get what you need, and then Jesus will take care of the rest. He’s pretty good at it.)

(NOTE: WOMEN ARE AWESOME TOO! I thank GOD for the women who were equal & major stakeholders in my life. Missy, Louise, Debi, Cindy, Michelle, and Stephanie were pillars and lifelines for me as a kid/teen. Those women taught me more about Jesus and doctrine than all of my university Bible professors combined. We need women in kid’s ministry, too. But women seem to be quicker than men when it comes to saying yes to God on these kinds of things. ;-))