My Ministry

"What everyone wants to know," explains the very famous Dr. Jim Withers, "is how you possibly defied the laws of physics and social expectations to live the life that you're living?"

"Hold on," I say into the receiver.

His question constitutes a beer. I walk inside to the fridge and grab one and stroll back to the Beloved back deck and pick the phone back up.

I'd called Jim, the founder of the International Street Medicine Movement, because Dr. Andrew Chapya in Africa had reached out to me for help. After talking about Jim for a few minutes we'd moved on to catching each other up on our personal lives.

"We missed you at the Flotilla," I'd said.

A few years ago I'd convinced Jim he needed a break for the world and there is no better place to leave the real world than Tybee Island.

"Sarah looked good," he replied. "I saw the pictures."

"Yep," I answered, "you should have joined us."

Then he paused and asked me his physics question.

"Beats me," I answered.

"Me too," he replied.

We hung up and I plop down in my chair and prop my bare feet on the railing. My feet are a golden brown, in no small part, because I work mostly naked on the Beloved Back deck everyday. I think about his question.

It is true that I am a technologically advanced minister-at-large with a world wide congregation that never gets together.

My study is my back deck and my secretary is a Palm Tree with oyster eyes, a coconut bra and a grass skirt.

The sanctuary is the beach which was created by God in the first place and, unlike other ministers, I see no reason to try to make improvements on the design.

There is no dress code in this church so there is little pretentiousness that comes with decided what to wear when worshipping God.

Getting here was most interesting and I wouldn't wish the things I've been through on anybody. (That's not true. There are some people I wish it on.) Nevertheless, here I am.

Sipping the beer, I notice how hot it is and decide to go baptize myself.

It's got to be the Seventh Day somewhere.

That's a day of rest.

I give myself the rest of the day off.

It's good work if you can get it.

Laid Back

It has come to my attention over the past several days that I'm pretty laid back.

That's good.

I've worked hard to get here.

My world turns very slow.

Not much bothers me.

Well ... politicians bother me. They can all go to hell. I'm non-discriminatory about it ... they all suck. They start off believing they can make a difference but in the end, the major prophet George Harrison was right when he said, "No matter who runs for office, it's the Government that always gets elected."

Television preachers bother me too. They also suck and can go to the same hell they're telling me I'm going to just because I happen to have broken eight of the ten commandments. They hang around Saints claiming to be with the "In-crowd" whereas I prefer my friends the Sinners. We have more fun and we spend a lot of time laughing at Joel Osteen and T.D. Jakes, just waiting on them to have their "Jim and Tammy Baker" moments.

Other than that though, nothing much bothers me.

My daughter Chelsea is getting married tomorrow and a Tropical Storm happens to be passing over head and everybody's in a tither about it.

"It'll be alright," I tell them with a shrug. "The sun always comes back out."

Besides I've never done a beach wedding in the rain. It could be fun, combining the best elements of nuptials with nipples in a wet tee-shirt contest.

There's also all of the drama that goes with a wedding. Who's coming and who's not? Everyone assumes the worst. I don't get caught up in all of that.

It won't matter anyway. I won't see them as I'll be crying my eyes out.

Plus I'm performing the ceremony as a former "Professional Christian" so I have to multi-task by talking and crying at the same time.

It'll all be alright.

When Sarah and I got married we decided to kidnap a party that was already going on and only invite a few friends. Two hundred people showed and the party someone else was throwing became ours. It was a magical night.

It will all work out.

It always does.