I was one of the speakers at a retreat for college students in the north Georgia mountains. They were great kids and I was the long haired, blue jean wearing, hip dude with the "Rev" in front of his name. We played football together and it reminded me of my own college career when I kidnapped the entire Baptist Student Union intramural football team and introduced them to ... paganism.
During the games, they learned how many other words can be matched up with Jesus or God. While initially shocked at this learning experience throughout the course of the season they all came around. We made the playoffs and out cussed the "Fraternity" team.
Most of what we really learn in college occurs outside of the classroom anyway.
So, it came time for the program and the hundred or so students cleaned themselves up and we headed into this massive lodge with a fireplace that you could stand in. It was early fall so there was no fire and a stage had been set up in front of the slate fireplace. A podium and loudspeakers were there and music was playing. The kids were settling in and ready for the "inspirational" message.
They sang, danced a bit, and prayed a lot. Then the hostess introduced the first speaker.
He was much older than the rest of us. He wore a three piece suit. His hair was slicked back straight and cropped short. As he was introduced, he sat in his chair looking sternly at his audience. The hostess reviewed everything that he had ever done so it sounded a lot like his obituary column ... he just hadn't died yet. He smile and nodded at the milestones she ticked off, looked humbled when she described awards he had won, and beamed when it was over. The students applauded because ... I don't know why they applauded but they did.
Adjusting his tie he stood with his big black Scofield Reference Bible, smiled this large smile for perhaps twenty seconds before saying anything. This is an old preacher's trick. Be silent for a few seconds before you say anything so the crowd will be waiting ... longing ... thirsting ... for what you have to say.
"My dear young people," he began.
Rolling my eyes, I reached into the back pocket of my jeans, pulled out the tin of snuff and threw some between my cheek and gum. Then I reached down and grabbed the Styrofoam coffee cup that I'd taken to the stage with me. When he repeated himself, I spit.
"My dear young people," he told them, "this world is not your home, you are passing through. Pay no attention to this world. It is full of evil and temptation. It is to be endured. Your rewards are not here. Pleasure is not here. Treasures are not here. These things are all in heaven. This life is all about preparation for what is next!," he was yelling at this point and hitting the podium.
I was spitting a lot and watching the kids. A few were listening to him, but most were holding hands, passing notes, giggling, rubbing one another's legs, staring out the window or were asleep.
"THIS LIFE," he screamed as he climaxed, "will be better when it stops. THEN ... WE ... GET ... TO ... BE ... WITH ... GOD."
And he sat down. The kids applauded because they didn't know what else to do.
Then the hostess read my obituary which was much shorter than his.
Spitting out the tobacco, I took the microphone.
"Well," I cleverly began, "after that ... all I can say is that there is another view of all of this. OB-LA-DI OB-LA-DA ... Life goes on ... Brah! ... Enjoy it!"
And I sat down.
He looked at me with confusion obviously never having listened to the Beatles. The hostess had just sat down so she jumped up again. At first a couple of the kids laughed and laughter can sometimes be contagious. This time it was and in just a few second the entire room was filled with the joys of celebration and laughter. Some clapped.
The hostess came back to the podium and looked at me.
"That's it?" she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Seriously?" she said.
So I stood back up and took the microphone again.
"Hey I don't know if y'all heard what she asked. Quite down! She asked 'Is that it?'. So I need to answer."
So the room got quiet again. Everyone was staring at me including the old guy. I waited twenty seconds before saying anything.
"Yep," I concluded. "That's it. We get this one life. Got gave it to us. Don't fuck it up."
And I sat down again.
It was my first standing ovation.
All of these many years later ... I still believe this. God gave us here. God gave us now. It is to be explored and celebrated. Stay away from bad people. Stay away from bad stuff. That's how you fuck it up. If you're in bad relationships or doing bad stuff ... stop fucking yourself.
Now, today is this wonderful gift. I have wonderful people in my life. I am doing rewarding work. I've been through my fair share of hell and don't really want to go back ... so today is this joyful celebration. Because it's one or the other ... either endure or celebrate.
"Choose life or death," the Bible says ... 'for me and mine, I choose life."
Me too.
