Broken Church

After delivering a eulogy, overseeing a memorial lunch, a Sunset wedding on the Beach, writing the bulletin, preparing a sermon and practicing the music, I'm pretty tired when I arrive at Benny's to set up for Bar Church.

Taking tables and bar stools off the raised stage area, I lug massive powered speakers into place, connect them to the sound board, set up microphones and arrange the area for the band ... which I have a vague notion of who it is today.

Bob Fulton arrives showing off his newest guitar. Eric Johnson brings his own microphone and plugs into the board. The steady and always pleasant David Duennebier rolls his self contained bass guitar and sound system into place. Tommy Hall strolls in carrying an electric Fender. Last is Gordon Hill and his suitcase of harmonicas.

As we run through the songs, my guitar isn't fitting in so I jiggle the chord and the electric pickup snaps slipping inside the box.

After fishing it out, David suggested I run it to the outside so I duct tape it into place.

"This is going to be a Hell of a service," I mutter.

Bob engages the make shift congregation with his rendition of John Prine's "When I Get to Heaven."

Eric's really on fire singing two songs about "Daddy" for Father's Day filling the Bar with a holiness.

When it's time for me, I limp through Jimmy Buffett's "Little Mrs. Magic", mercifully redeemed by Gordon's harmonica playing then I proceed to deliver the lamest, rambling, God-awful excuse for a sermon ever preached.

I hate hearing it as I say it.

Somewhere in all this, David's wife Elisa whispers I look angry. I reply I'm merely trying to orchestrate chaos into order.

"Well," she replies. "You should hug Bob."

After the service was over, leaving me feeling incredible inept and longing for redemption, I do as she asked and hug Bob.

Grinning, he says, "Well, another came together just like He planned."

Every believer worth her or his salt has doubts and I have a hard time believing God has anything to do with it.

Remaining at the Bar sit several folks in no hurry to leave.

"Can we ask you something?" they ask.

"You just did," I reply heading for the bathroom.

"Can we get baptized?"

It stops me dead in my tracks.

"In the Bar or the Ocean?"

"The Ocean," three different people agree.

I do not understand the mechanics of Church.

It's a horrible thing for the minister to admit but it's true.

Eric grabs me later, grinning from ear to ear. "I've found my calling," he proclaims. "This is it!"

At home, Sarah Elliott cheerfully asks, "How was it?"

Grimacing, I sit beside my wife and open a beer.

"I have no idea."

"So nothing unusual?" she smiles.

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Tybee Church ministers to those traditional churches can't reach and to continue doing it we are conducting a campaign to raise $10,000 to cover one year's cost. We're over 1/3 of the way there! If you've been helped by Bar Church, are blessed keeping up with us daily on Face Book or want to help Church without walls, you can at

Tybee Church

P.O. Box 1511

Tybee Island, GA 31328

or click https://www.gofundme.com/tybeebarchurch

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THIS SUNDAY AT BAR CHURCH ... we'll get back to you ... soon.

Stepfather my Ass!

I'm a Dad and a Step-Dad.

I hate the term "Step-Dad"!

What the Hell does that mean?

I need to step up to the plate because I'm not part of the chemical equation that made them?

They make me step out of my comfort zone because the values they bring to our family is not the ones I do?

I must keep in step with three girls because I totally outnumbered?

Every day, and every night, I thank God for these girls who fill my life with ... CRAZINESS! ... too much estrogen! ... circular arguments! ... underwear everywhere! ... a sink constantly full of dishes! ... boys they like and I hate! ... ridiculous immediate plans ... an utter lack of understanding of finances!

One of them leaves me exhausted, frustrated and tired ... but there are three ... and they like to gang up on me.

Yet ...

Maddie asks my opinion before talking to her Mother and I'm more zoned on giving her the right counsel, I may as well be negotiating world peace.

Laurel wanders in the kitchen, absentmindedly kisses my cheek smiling like snails died in her mouth, asks what I'm having for lunch ... because she slept way past breakfast ... then collapses in the floor to tell me her plans for the day.

Cassidy streaks into the kitchen to get her 9th candy bar of the morning, trying to hide it by moving extremely fast and slamming her hips into my cheek saying "I love you Mike" then disappearing into her room with God knows how much candy as I try to locate which tooth it was she's knocked out of my mouth.

The other day at The Breakfast Club, where Maddie works and I frequent, it's brought up she'd said she needed to ask her parents something ... meaning Sarah and me ... not the contributor to the chemical equation that made her ... and salt water wells in my eyes hearing it.

"Oh My God! Are you crying?" Caroline asks.

I did.

I'm damn proud of it too.

I love my daughters!

I love being ... whatever in the Hell I am to them ... and I'll tell you this ... I ain't a "step" anything!
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Tomorrow at Tybee Bar Church Monty Parks, Eric Johnson, Bob Fulton, David Dunnibier and Micheal!
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Tybee Church needs help to continue it's ministries and to expand them. If you can, please support through the mail at P.O. Box 1511, Tybee Island, GA 31328

or by clicking https://www.gofundme.com/tybeebarchurch
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Want your wedding to be a laid back island affair? Rev. Micheal Elliott is available to conduct your service. Contact him through the Tybee Bar Church Face Book page.

A Two Pitcher Night

"This hurts me more than it's going to hurt you," my Dad says taking his off belt with one hand and grabbing my wrist with the other.

Dad lied.

I hurt like Hell way more than he did when it was over.


It was Mrs. Johnson's fault for having the audacity to work late after school was long out to call my parents to discuss my classroom behavior ... EVEN WHEN I WASN'T IN CLASS!

Dad always claimed it made him cry but I never saw it jumping from my twin bed to my brother David's while Dad held my wrist in vice grip and hit with the belt.

Today, I could have him arrested but ... Dad's ruled back then.

We went through a real tough time after that.

He's raising an adolescent boy in the late 60s and early 70s and I'm questioning Authority, a mantra of the times and Dad was the ultimate authority!

Decades pass and we eventually make our way back to each other.

Home visiting, we escape the family to slip into a Bar to split a pitcher of beer.

I'm in Seminary which he doesn't understand and he's retired playing golf and cards most every day.

We talk for the first time in years ... about family, I had a son by then so a lot focused on him, Georgia football, people who were gone, good times ... bad times.

It ended up being a two pitcher night.

Afterwards as I grew older and he accelerated the rapid decline that is old age, we talked daily.

If life got in the way and the call didn't occur, he grew sullen and short with my Mom.

I ascend as he declines.

Once in the hospital, I help him pee into the plastic jug Hospitals charge $200 for when my son asked if I'm embarrassed.

"He held it for me when I was little. I'm just paying him back. Same as you're going to do for me one day."

"Gee! Thanks Dad," Jeremy groans.

That's what Father's Day really about though.

Dad's start the birthing process with receptive Mothers.

They do their best to be a parent which is always far more than bargained for though if they're lucky ... and their daughters and sons are blessed ... it goes full circle and we all learn it took everything we gave ... for them to be them ... and for us to be us.

Thanks Dad for kicking off my life.

Happy Father's Day Son.

Blessings to the Mothers who also filled Father's shoes!

Happy Day Everyone!
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Sunday at Bar Church is all about Father's Day though they wouldn't be without Mother's. You can't have one without the other and we don't discriminate! 
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Bar Church really needs some help from the non-Bar crowd. Tips and tithes can be made to

Tybee Church
P.O. Box 1511
Tybee Island, GA 31328

or clicking https://www.gofundme.com/tybeebarchurch

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Micheal is also available to conduct wedding services!

Laughing

"I went to my sister's house and she has a new baby. When she opened the door ... this is a great house by the way ... it looks like a baby lives there! You know, toys all over the floor ... a mess here and a mess there ... I couldn't do it ... I need clean and orderly."

She and I had gone to High School together 40 years ago, now work together at a Hospice ... her kids are grown ... my wife and I are having a baby.

She's flabbergasted I guess.

Old men shouldn't have babies.

I recall standing there half way agreeing but, whatever doubts I have are eclipsed by the love I have for Sarah, our kids and the excitement of ... our baby.

"Hmmm," I remember saying, shrugging my shoulders signifying it's none of her business anyway.

"God love you Micheal," she smiles hugging me ... condescendingly.

Truth be told there wouldn't be a Bible without an old man having a baby.

Abraham is older than dirt.

His wife Sarah is too.

God tells them they're having a baby and the idea is so preposterous the old farts bust out laughing ... only to have a baby ... which begins the lineage of chosen people so that today Judaism, Islam and Christianity all trace their origins to their baby Isaac.

"Isaac" means laughing in Hebrew ... and his old folks did all the way the way to the bank ... to the Promised Land ... and to their graves ... but their family carries on!

Our baby Che has lots of stuff, mostly obtained by her Mom, and every day I see it ... it makes me laugh.

I mean it drives me crazy but it makes me smile.

I'll take tripping over stacks of toys any day.

It beats the Hell out of a clean house and an empty life.
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Sunday at Bar Church Micheal is talking about ... well ... Father's Day ... only because it's scheduled ... he'll likely end up talking about Dave Postle's funeral (meaning legacy) ... Gina and Jennifer's wedding he performing the day before ... cloud formations over the Ocean before singing "Clouds" ... the insanity of living on Tybee Island ... Che ... and other things that could bring a smile to your face.
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Bar Church really needs some help from the non-Bar crowd. Tips and tithes can be made to
Tybee Church
P.O. Box 1511
Tybee Island, GA 31328

or clicking https://www.gofundme.com/tybeebarchurch

If I were God

I'm pondering heaviness.

A friend getting close to the end asks if I'll sing the song "Clouds" when he finally can't climb out of his death bed.

Another confides hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt having risked everything on a business venture and he's so close but time is not his friend.

One more shared she's fighting depression having learned it's up to her to raise her newborn Grandson so her child can going living as she's accustomed ... out every night with a new love every week or two.

I think these things as I'm contemplating the words I'll use at the funeral I'm speaking at in a couple of days.

It'd all be easier if I were God.

"Heal! Rise from your bed and walk ... straight to good times 'cause I know you've been sick so damn long."

"Hey Mr. Businessman, thou shalt immediately invest a couple hundred thousand in this idea so it's genius inventor can pay his bills and you'll make more because of it ... as though you need any more but I'm good that way."

"My Angel Gabriel, I dispatch thee to the dark end of the bar where thou shalt cast light on the beautiful wreck sitting there so love takes hold for her just as it did when Joseph wed Mary though she was pregnant with somebody else's kid and it all turned out perfect."

"I command celebration of the life lived so that his funeral becomes a party with dancing, laughter, good tears that are turned into wine everyone shares freely and get high enough to sneak a peek at what's next."

That's what I'd do if I were God.

In the meantime, I'll keep wishing these things.

Hoping for them.

Praying God'll do em 'cause Lord knows I can't ... the Spirit's willing but the flesh doesn't have a clue ... because every damn one of these friends deserve what I'd do if I were God.

But I'm not.

So I ponder them ... which is my part of the dialogue with God ... and wait for the response ... knowing with everything inside of me ... it'll come.

And even if it doesn't ... my thoughts and prayers are all in the right place.
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You can support Bar Church through a tithe or a tip at
Tybee Church
P.O. Box 1511
Tybee Island, GA 31328

or by clicking https://www.gofundme.com/tybeebarchurch

Obituary: Goddess Elliott (2005-2018)

Goddess Elliott, a lifelong resident of Tybee Island peacefully died in the arms of her loving family after a prolonged yet adventurous illness involving Tybee Island Animal Control, gross overfeeding by numerous neighbors, hundreds of feral cats, a Little Gay Dog (LGD) and a Gender Confused Feline (GCF). 

Abandoned at birth when thrown from a speeding vehicle in a bag with five siblings, Goddess grew into a strong independent bitch who loved life in a house full of girls and Winston, The Little Gay Dog (TLGD). 

She loved leisurely walks around the block passed Shirley Sessions house where Henry Whitaker, a very fat cat, lived and moaned, to Art Vitaglaino who gave treats trying to corrupt her with Auburn Football Bullshit before passing Ann Butler's depository for wayward and kidnapped cats then home again.

When Henry Whitaker died, Goddess pulled her owner through heavy traffic to pay homage but when Art passed away, Goddess peed on the Auburn magnet mailbox and till the day she died, slowed in homage to the man and his treats.

The happiest years of her life commenced when Sarah, Maddie, Laurel and Cassidy moved in, an episode chronicled in the tremendous tome, Winston, The Little Gay Dog (TLGD) ... a love story where Goddess successfully brokered love between a tiny male Chihuahua and Bruce, a large male German Shepard.

Goddess and Winston, TLGD, were the best of friends ... unless food was involved ... when they attacked each other viciously ... a condition grossly encouraged by Che Elliott, born 19 months before Goddess' death. 

Che fed both dogs showing no favoritism with anything she didn't want to eat including fruit, the non-marshmallow parts of Lucky Charms, cookies surrounding the really good middle of Oreo's and Key Lime Pie. 

Goddess and Winston, TLGD, followed Che everywhere offering love and protection including when Che occasionally pooped on the Back Deck ... a matter Goddess promptly resolved. 

In return, Che loved her greatly, kissing her on the head whenever she left the house for Beach walks with her Dad or trips to the Library with her Mom.

"Get rid of the damn dog," long time resident John O'Neill once demanded, only to later admit, "I was wrong. Goddess is a chick magnet."

Goddess loved her family, the visits from Jeremy, Kristen and Chelsea, humping visitors, sniffing every pile of dog shit she ever passed before peeing on it, and prank calling Tybee Island Animal Control with reports of barking dogs at the homes of cat owners and selected member of City Council not supporting dogs on the beach.

A champion of Medical Marijuana for all creatures, Goddess fit right in on Tybee.

She will be missed ... especially at her next scheduled appearance on August 7th in Tybee Island Court.  

The Unlucky People

Walking inside his Hospital room, Pete's flat on the back he broke falling from his house.

His daughter Rene's tenderly caressing his brow while whispering as he intently listens.

Everything about Pete is intense.

After Vietnam, he and his wife tried taking care of mentally ill children in a group home but, he found it boring.

Moving to Tybee he found work at the Department of Public Works but got his rocks off shark fishing.

These were the glory days of the DPW when they mostly played cards under the supervision of Billy Pye and built crosswalks from scratch on private property only to move them after threat of lawsuit.

Pete ... Roger Doger ... Billy ... were the DPW ... running off anyone the City hired if they didn't like them.

But it was the shark fishing that kept Pete on the island.

It wasn't illegal just a few years ago.

"THIS IS THE GREATEST ADRENALIN RUSH SINCE VIETNAM!" he screams while cutting the head off a 9 foot shark halfway in the boat we're in ... tossing the fresh meat at my bare feet and dropping the chomping mouth into the Back River.

Sharks don't die easily.

The severed head continues to chomp disappearing in the brown green water and the gutted carcass flips around my feet ... scaring the Holy Daylights out of me ... as Pete erupts in laughter.

The man is as intense as any shark I've ever encountered.

Sliding into the quiet of the hotel room I hear his daughter softly say, "It's okay Dad. Remember we're the unlucky people. If it's gonna happen then it's going to happen to us. We'll be alright. I don't know how we'll be alright but we'll be alright."

And I can still feel ... the frog in my throat ... salt water in my eyes ... emptiness in my belly.

Pete's eyes cuts to mine and the slightest of thin smiles crosses his face.

"Hey Micheal," Rene says, hugging me.

"You look like shit," I say to Pete afterwards, leaning over the bed staring at him ... our noses almost touching.

"You fall off a roof and lets see what you look like," he snaps.

"Touche," I answer.

"They teach you that in Seminary?"

"My bedside manner?" I laugh. "Na I picked that up on my own."

"It's awful," he says looking at Rene.

"Yeah," I agree as his wife Trish enters the room and we embrace.

"Sooooo," I begin having no idea how to start because if they taught Introductory "Hospital Bedside Manners for Intense Men with Broken Backs" in Seminary, I apparently skipped that day.

"He broke his back," Trish explains matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I heard."

"I may miss some work," Pete adds.

"Ya' think?" I ask.

"We need the money," he says.

"Don't we all?" I muse.

"No seriously, we're broke," he continues. "Living paycheck to paycheck."

These were the days when you could actually live on Tybee paycheck to paycheck ... WAIT A MINUTE!!! ... a lot of us still do!!!

But sometimes luck runs out ... money disappears ... moving becomes real ... friends grow scarce ... bill collectors grow like nests of Vultures waiting on prey to die ... hearts break like bones ... and you're left with nothing but questions for God ... who doesn't seem in the mood to talk.

So you lie there ... drink ... cuss ... cry ... repeatedly asking questions God's obviously not interested in answering.

The "How" questions are easy enough.

How did I end up here?

We can back track and figure that out.

In Pete's case, he didn't have the money to fix the roof but knew how ...  even though he also knows he's too old ... and it's far easier to climb ladders when you're young but gets harder the older  you grow ... and fooling himself to believe he's still young ... he makes his way to the roof ... reaches for something just out of reach and ... falls off his house.

It's the "Why" questions adding to the pain.

Don't get me wrong, Pete's crazy as a loon ... but damn the man's got a great heart ... does things for people other's don't give a shit about ... gives money he doesn't have because it's the right thing to do ... spends hours listening to them bitch about things gone wrong ... and taking them shark fishing on his dime when he can't figure out how else to ease their pain.

And he's rewarded with a broken back trying to save money he doesn't have.

Why?

Why is God so damn silent when the tough questions come?

The honest answer is, "I don't know."

I wish to God I did but I don't.

It pisses me off.

God doesn't seem to care.

And now ... I don't have an answer though there is an end to the story.

I was on the plane Pete and Trish took when they left the country ... Tybee ... the debt ... the house they left to to Rene ... the creditors ... the craziness ... the broken things.

Trish sat in First Class with a dog wearing a yellow "Service Dog" jacket though it's just the little Terrier she's carried with her forever.

Pete's on the last row seated directly in front of the bathrooms.

Both are wearing special badges proclaiming, "American Ambassador Special Needs."

Sitting in the middle of the plane, Trish sends me a Vonka Tonic.

Pete talks loudly from the rear drowning out the instructions on how to buckle a safety belt.

Disembarking in Atlanta, we huddle at the Gate, hugging as I ask, "Where are y'all going?"

"Mexico" they smile.

"How long?" I wonder.

"We're never coming back," Pete says ... "We'd be arrested."

Without knowing ... somehow I know that.

So we hug again ... and kiss ... and when Pete loudly kisses me in the middle of a crowded Atlanta Airport .... it isn't pretty .. and that's the last time I've seen them.

Though it isn't the last time we've talked ... keeping up with each other on Face Book.

I have no idea how they're financing it but ... damn there they are ... in a land with no Winter!

Trish paints.

Pete takes long walks up a mountain to visit a Shaman.

Rene visits often.

They've never returned to the United States.

I've known lots of unlucky people in my life.

Most are dead.

I'm glad I'm not one of them.

I've experienced ... no I am experiencing way too much ... unlucky stuff in my life ... but here I am ... for another day anyway ... telling you a true story about some people I love ... who've gotten through it somehow ... though I'm certain it's not as easy as it seems for them ... it's certainly not for Sarah and me.

I'm sure a fair number of you are feeling pretty unlucky about something or another ... wondering how you're managing to be here ... when reason says there's no way in Hell you can continue.

But you have.

And you do.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not upon your own understanding," the Proverbs counsel (3:5).

Leaning not upon my own understanding is easy enough because I don't understand any of this.

Trusting in the Lord with all my heart would be a lot easier if God wasn't so Goddamned quiet ... but She is ... so it's all about the trusting.

So I trust.

I don't know why I do ... but I do.

And I'm banking on the day when Sarah and I stand there holding our tickets ... and she's in First Class as she should be ... and I'm in the back in front of the rest rooms cause I gotta go all the time anyway ... and the Announcers voice sounds strangely like what we believe God sounds like says, "Boarding Now."

Dancing In Church

BAR CHURCH CONFESSIONS # 17
True Stories from Tybee Church

When Jeanmarie worshiped, she danced.

There was no stopping her.

Occasionally we'd stick her behind drums but they never held her back for very long.

First a smile breaks out ... then she screams, "YES!" ... tiny feet jump and in an instant Jeanmarie is leaping crazily around the Bar!

Were it not for the perpetual smile on her face, the police may have been called.

There was a song ... "Dance Like David Danced" and were it played, she surely exceeded anything the great King of Israel may have done bringing the Ark of the Covenant into Jerusalem.

Jeanmarie also hugged ... A LOT!

Before the service she'd walk up and hug you but once worship began, she danced over, gave a hug and kept dancing ... and smiling.

It was impossible to not love her as she transformed herself into the very embodiment of worship in the highest degree.

Perhaps she weighed 90 pounds, which makes sense given all the dancing she did.

In the end she danced her way straight through cancer and into the arms of Jesus who happily took her arms smiling and the two of them haven't stopped yet!
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Tybee Church is raising $10,000 necessary to continue offering open worship in a Bar! The money is to cover the costs of fees, insurance, ministries and supplies. Currently 38% of what's needed has been given. Please help if you can by clicking https://www.gofundme.com/tybeebarchurch 
or through mail to Tybee Church P. O. Box 1511, Tybee Island, GA 31328
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A SPECIAL BAR CHURCH MEMORIAL DAY SERVICE & COOK OUT WITH LIVE MUSIC will be on May 27th in the covered Pavilion in Memorial Park beginning at 10nish on Tybee Island. There's a Potluck, a little story telling and lots of fun. It's free so come on and experience Bar Church without a Bar! NON-SMOKERS WANTED.

Moms R Us

Three old ladies are sitting in the court yard of the Oceanside Nursing Home as Che and I breeze through looking for Jim.

We hear one say, “My son is so devoted to me, for my birthday he gave me an all-expenses-paid cruise around the world.” 

The second pipes in, “That’s nothing. Mine threw a huge catered affair for me, and he flew in all my friends from the East.” 

The third woman smirks at them both. “Without a doubt, my son is the most devoted. Three times a week he goes to his therapist. A hundred and thirty dollars a session he pays. And what does he talk about the whole time? Me!”

No doubt, huh?

When I worked with homeless families I saw first hand how awful lots of mothers really are.

Pam is a large, rotund, roly poly mother of three ... though her 14 year old daughter Nicki is tall, thin, straight, pretty and obviously in charge of the family. 

Entering their room for the first time Nicki exclaims, "Wow this is nice Mom?"

 That's sad itself isn't it? ... a homeless shelter is nice?

Pam doesn't respond. She's too overwhelmed by losing the boyfriend they lived with ... her addiction to crack cocaine ... the tremendous debt she's amassed trying to be a good mother ... and the understanding somehow that deep in her clouded mind ... Nicki is the one running the family because she's totally incapable.

They go on to become a success ... sort of anyway.

Pam kicks her habit for a while, gets a job, finds housing and moves her family to a decent place with a new man.

Nicki graduates High School.

A couple of years later the whole sad episode happens again except, this time ... Nicki's the Mom.

Sometimes it's a shame what Hallmark has done to Mother's Day.

Buy a $7 card to honor your Mother ... and next month buy another one for your Dad.

It's gotten crazy.

Yesterday I posted a new Face Book profile picture of me holding Che.

Immediately someone quips, "This does not look like a Mother's Day picture."

"What's that got to do with anything?" I wonder. "Like any other man who's worth his salt I can get in touch with my feminine side and express Mother tendencies ... just as any woman can muster up her masculinity.

Beside, my mother loves the picture posting 5 hearts to prove it!

Like much in the world, it's all gotten so out of hand.

"Honor your Father and Mother! Then you may live a long full life in the land the Lord God has given you" (Exodus 20:12).

Why?

God knows we've sentimentalized the Hell out of it but honestly speaking it's not always the easiest of relationship ... Mom and child.

Jesus himself seems to have had a strange one with his Mom.

The first thing he does when he get old enough is run away from home.

After three days, they back track until they find him and Mother Mary tells him, "Behold, thy Father and I have sought thee sorrowing" (Luke 2:48) ... or in today's vernacular ... "I thought it was my fault losing you but now I see it's yours and ..."

Well, lets be honest ... our mothers would have beaten the tar out of us ... but today's mother's would threaten taking away his phone from him ... but never actually do it.

The Bible doesn't say what Jesus' punishment was but he's not heard from again for 19 years so I imagine it was pretty extreme.

Then when he's 30, Jesus attends a wedding with his family and they run out of wine.

We all know there's nothing worse than being anywhere ... especially a wedding not involving an immediate member of your family ... and running out of wine.

Mary tells her son to do something about this and turn water into wine so nobody feels bad about this horrific happening.

"Woman what have you to do with me?" John 2:4), is how Jesus responds.

Not even calling her Mom, Jesus is obviously perturbed at his ol' lady wanting him to do things he doesn't want to do ... we've all been there.

"Go tell the Police it was you," my Mom demands after officers beat on our door demanding to know if I was involved in stealing 15 fire extinguishers from a local plant.

Apparently Mr. Gnann who lived across from the plant believes he saw me with my best friend Gene Prevatt and Robert Mixon carrying fire extinguishers to the fort we have built in the woods for a fight to end all fights.

Somehow the police investigative team found the empty cans with our fingerprints on them.

Just like Jesus I say to my Mom, "Woman what have you to do with me?"

Unlike Jesus, my Mom backhanded me across the room, told the police I did it and there went my summer vacation.

Jesus listened to his and turned the water into wine but it took me a long time to forgive mine. 

The next time Mary wants Jesus, things only get worse.

Jesus is flying high, everybody wants him, his popularity is through the roof and he's famous, adored, sought out and beloved by all.

Just when things couldn't have been going any better for Jesus, his mother shows up demanding to see him ... "Tell him his Momma needs to see him right now," Mary says so the message is conveyed to her boy.

"Who?" Jesus replies (Matthew 12:46). "Who is my mother?"

Hallmark still hasn't figured out how to use this on a card.

"Our mothers, like our fathers, are to be honored, the Good Book says. But if Jesus is to be our guide, honoring them doesn't mean either idealizing or idolizing them. It means seeing them both for who they are and for who they are not. It means speaking the truth to them. It means the best way of repaying them for their love is to love God and our neighbor as faithfully and selflessly as at their best our parents have tried to love us. It means seeing they are taken care of to the end of their days" (Frederick Buechner).

Let me be straight, I've tried to be pretty good whenever I talk to my Mom but, Lord knows she gets upset with me to this day ... when I cuss in public though she herself has done so ... made bad choices when she's done that too ... or screwed up badly because she's done her fair amount of screwing up.

The reason we honor our mothers ... our fathers too for that matter ... is because they gave us our life.

We wouldn't be here without them and even if they were the worst parents ever born ... they still gave you YOU!

That's the real honor of it all.

Face it, there would be no Jesus without his mother ... regardless of who is Daddy is.

Same with you and me.

At the end of his life, Jesus has one last encounter with his Mom.

Hanging on the cross, bleary eyed in pain, he looks down at her standing in the crowd and says, "Woman, behold your son."

It's funny he still doesn't call her Mom but "Woman" instead but, I think what he's saying is, "This is what you've given the world ... just me ... right here ... doing what I'm doing."

When all was said and done, Jesus ended up honoring the ol' lady by changing the world and centuries later we're still talking about him ... and her.

So the best thing you can do on this Mother's Day, whether your Mom is still living or not, is to say to her ... "Woman, behold your son" ... "Behold your daughter" ... this is what you've given the world ... ME! ... and the world wouldn't be complete without me ... meaning of course the world can't be complete at all if I weren't here ... but I am ... thanks to you.

Now Mom, it's time for me to LIVE This Mother's Day ... just like it is for me to truly live every day ... being your gift to the world.

Prayer For the Lost Credit Card

"Why me Lord?" What have I ever done? To deserve even one of the pleasures I've known?"

Eric Johnson sits, strumming an open string guitar and sings as Ricky Stokes plays a mean acoustic lead, Gordo moans on a mouth harp, David sadly thumbs bass strings, Davy taps the box while John's fingers softy make love to the skins of his Congas.

"HEY! WHERE'S THE BARTENDER?"

You ever been in a Church Service that's totally disrupted by something? ... a plane crash ... fire? ... women fainting? ... or the minister admitting to an affair with the lead Soprano in the Choir? ... and how everybody keeps on singing pretending if they don't notice what's happening it'll go away?

It was like that at Bar Church Sunday.

Eric's singing and the Band's killing it ... when this Dude storms inside Benny's wearing his bathing suit and nothing else ... looking like he slept on the Beach ... with sand falling out of dirty blond hair ... he seems desperate.

"Hey man," Kevin tells him. "It's Bar Church. There's no bartender. You're welcome to stay ... there's food on the  Pool Table."

"I NEED THE BARTENDER," the kid screams, "I LEFT SOMETHING HERE AND NEED IT BACK NOW!"

Sometimes you simply have to stop singing ... even in the middle of worship ... and this is one of those times.

As "Worship Leader" ... and I use that term loosely ... I hold my hand up, stop the music and call for prayer.

"Dear Lord of the Lost, please help this poor soul find that which he seeks ... the credit card which he left here last night ... forgive him for leaving without paying ... stumbling to where forth he was misled ... and may he remember to tip the bartender upon finding his treasure."

"What?" the kid asks realizing everyone in the Bar is praying for him.

"Come back at 12:30," Kevin explains.

Angrily, the Dude storms out.

The rag tag Congregation erupts in laughter in Holy fellowship as Eric resumes singing.

"Lord help me Jesus, I've wasted it so."

We know all about that at Bar Church.
~~~

Please Support Bar Church through https://www.gofundme.com/tybeebarchurch

The Ever Changing Band

BAR CHURCH CONFESSIONS # 8
True Stories from Tybee Bar Church

Eric doesn't know what to expect on his first visit to Bar Church.

He'd been asked to bring his guitar and a song or two so he has both with him just in case.

Stumbling inside of Benny's Tybee Tavern on a sunny Spring day, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust but he hears Micheal's voice, "Hey Eric! Welcome! You met Davy?"

Davy is a Bar Church co-founder and the drummer ... meaning he's wacky as Hell but keeps a mean beat and everyone loves him dearly.

"I've heard of you," Eric says as they shake hands.

"Uh-oh," Davy moans.

Davy's life ambition is to lay low but life has this way of finding him anyway.

Thomas Oliver sleepily stumbles inside and we naturally think he's confused because he's never up this early.

Tom Cooler breezes in looking like he just his gig as a Lumberjack

Tommy Hall hauls in multiple instruments followed by Gordo and his lovely bride Mrs. Jaime.

Today's Bar Church Band is born!

Next to nothing is practiced, tried or planned at Bar Church. There is a bulletin but there's no order of worship because ... God only knows what's going to happen.

We tried practice once before the Easter Sunrise Service but it made people mad so there's uncertainty if it'll ever happen again.

The service begins and somehow ... we don't know how ... it all comes together.

Here's Eric soulfully singing a song perfect for the occasion but listen to Thomas, Gordo and Tommy perfectly complement it.

We think it's nothing short of what choirs of Angels consistently deliver.

Every Sunday the bands different because each week the players change.

It's one of the things making Bar Church such a special worship experience.

Thank you Eric for gracing us and, well you already know, you're always welcome to celebrate home with us.

Support a new worship experience at  https://www.gofundme.com/tybeebarchurch

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