day thirty-six: tuesday breakfast

I arrive about 7:25 a.m. and they're already at our usual table, halfway through their first cup. As soon as I sit down our waitress puts the once-white mug in front of me, stained from what must be decades of use. This is no coffeehouse organic fair-trade blend or skinny sugar-free soy cinnamon dolce latte. It's just coffee...black.

This mug is entirely too clean. Clearly this photo is from the internet.

I could order for them: two pancakes with two eggs (scrambled) and bacon for Larry; French toast for Paul; one egg scrambled with ham, grits, and a biscuit for Andy. If Margaret were here, she would have an omelet with sausage patties, no grits. What else could they order? This is Tuesday breakfast.

Ever since I started working at this church, for almost three years, I've held "out-of-office hours" on Tuesday mornings at a local breakfast joint. It's an idea I stole from my advisor and mentor in divinity school, Diane Lipsett. And I'm glad I did. I've gotten to know the 20-or-so people who have come over these three years in a way I couldn't have sitting behind my desk in my office. But I would expect nothing less when we sit down to share a meal together, to share life together.

Tuesday breakfasts not only feed my cholesterol levels and caffeine addiction, they feed my being. It's nice to just talk - no sermon, no lesson, no agenda - just talk. They seem less like parishioners and more like people. I feel less like a minister and more like a human being...just another person, eating bacon and drinking coffee, getting ready to go to work for the day.

How I feel on Sundays at church...priestly.

How I feel on Tuesdays at breakfast...human.

I picked up the check. "I've got it today guys." In other words, thanks for letting me be me and get to know you as you, even if it's just for an hour once a week.

day sixteen: college.ministry.friends.

Remember college life? Dorm rooms. Late night pizza. Spring Break. Eating at those "collegiate" restaurants, the ones that everyone went to with fairly decent food and usually plenty of it for not too much money. Remember how nice it was when a friend's parents took their son/daughter, you and others out to dinner? You could go to restaurants you didn't eat at very often, order whatever you like, and not have to worry about paying?

Ah yes...the life of a college student...

Our baby boy in Columbia. Someone's parents did come to town...and brought that someone with them.

Tonight I drove with Suzy and the baby to Columbia so she could go to dinner and celebrate a bachelorette party for a friend (although with a baby along for the ride and a husband who has to be at work the next morning, it's not the crazy night it may have once been). I dropped her off for dinner and took the baby to meet up with three college students from our church for dinner.

Alex, Jimmy, and Kevin are all sophomores at USC (that's the University of South Carolina, regardless of what some southern Californians and their lawsuit may say), and they've all grown up as a part of the church. Since they are in Columbia, we don't get to see them as much, so I thought a little man-date for dinner (my treat) would be a good way to catch up while I was in town.

We met at Tsunami, a sushi restaurant in the Vista area of Columbia that has a cousin in Greenville. The sushi was solid, per usual, and a great deal to boot - Happy Hour special: 3 six-piece rolls for $8.95. I thoroughly enjoyed just getting to hang out with these guys: not on a mission trip or trying to lead a Bible study, but just sitting around the table and talking. I'd love to say that the conversation was profoundly meaningful, or that we connected on a deeper level, or that I think they were affected by our dinner. But it wasn't, we didn't, and I don't. In fact, I don't even think we prayed before we ate.

Even so, in all the joking around and story-telling, through what may seem like superficial conversation, they may not have been affected...but I was. Because tonight I didn't feel like their minister...I felt like their friend. And it was around the table that I realized in many ways, in the best of cases, there's really no difference between the two.

here we go...

I’m finally doing it. I’ve toyed with the idea of starting a blog for a while now, and I’ve given in. I realize that I’m a little late getting on the blogging bandwagon, but what the heck…here we go…

I’m a wannabe foodie, and I enjoy everything from fried chicken to duck confit, from Krispy Kreme donuts to crème brulee.  I am no chef or professional food critic, but I love to eat.

And,

I’m a minister, in the business of “the care of souls.” I work in the church and in the community, trying to realize the kingdom of God, surrounded by theology in practice.

And that’s what I hope this blog will be: theology in practice.

Our faith is put into practice when we gather around a table (and as a life-long Baptist, we take every opportunity to sit down at the table). We connect on a basic human level over food, whether it’s over Grammy’s mac-and-cheese, fried pork belly at The Lazy Goat, or those tasteless wafers and juice on a Sunday morning. Transformation happens when we sit down with others and celebrate one of God’s greatest and most basic gifts—nourishment.

But don’t think that all you’ll find here are lofty ideals and abstract thoughts. My plan is to have two or three entries a week. Some will be reflections on the meaning of special times I’ve had around the table; others will be more like restaurant reviews of amazing (and sometimes not-so-amazing) food I’ve eaten; some may be links to articles or websites that I find along the way; and a good portion will probably just be my random thoughts about food, faith, and fellowship.

So, in the spirit of Martin Luther's idea of "table talk," I hope you'll contribute your thoughts and questions to the conversation around this blog-table. And maybe along the way, it will be nourishing to us all.