Flashback Friday: "Have you got a match?"

Every April with the start of baseball season this story comes to mind and the horror is fresh all over again. I've shared it here before; it's here again today as a great Flashback Friday blast from the past. Enjoy!

In April of 1982 I was working at New Garden Friends Meeting, and we had some great things going on in the ministry. Lots of students were attending, Donna Haynes and I were exploring all kinds of new programs and events, and we had just claimed (not won, but claimed!) victory at the annual North Carolina Yearly Meeting Field Day at Quaker Lake. It was in this atmosphere of success that I planned a quick trip to Atlanta to see a Braves games for myself and a few of our high school guys. It would be a most memorable weekend.

There were signs all along the way that this would be an unusual event. First of all, the Braves, pitiful for so long, had begun the season with 13 straight wins, a major league record. We would see their 14th game. Since there were 6 of us going, my car was not large enough, so I borrowed a station wagon from some parents of the youth, Loy and Connie Newby. As we left Greensboro and began the trek down I-85, we were excited and loud, a regular car full of regular young men. Somewhere in South Carolina we found a radio station that was doing a unique event. It was a song challenge. They would play 2 songs to battle each other, and then a third song while people called in their votes. This being WAY before cell phones, we couldn't vote, but it was fun to listen. The winning song would then be give another competitor and played again. After a few rounds of this, the AC/DC song Highway to Hell became the champion. And then it won again. And again. And again! We soon grew sick of the song (it finally lost to the Beatles!) but we realized then and there this trip had a theme, and it was not a good one! Entering Georgia, we stopped at a truck stop for gas and several of us decided to try a Nehi Peach Soda, which may have been the most disgusting thing I have ever tried to drink, and remember, I was a youth pastor and was used to disgusting things! But finally, we arrived in Atlanta.

After checking in at our hotel, a Ramada Inn (I think) across from Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, we headed over for the game. It was exciting to be there when the crowd was actually thinking the Braves could win. We settled in and watched as the Braves lost for the first time that year. Bob Horner hit a home run for the Braves, but I missed it while standing in line for food. More signs- but we still didn't see them. As we left the game it was still light out, so we decided to walk up and visit the golden dome of the Georgia state capitol building which was just up the street.

I should tell you a little about the group. Marshall Ratledge, later to become a Quaker Lake legend himself; Danny and Darek Newby (whose parents loaned me the car), who were both black belts in some sort of martial arts; Jimmy Hale, a golfer; Bruce Reynolds, football player and track star; and myself made up our merry band. We were all dressed in classic preppy, and we headed into downtown Atlanta on foot absolutely clueless of what we were about to encounter. As we started down the sidewalk we had came to a group of young men who were standing on corner, and smiled as we came to them. One of them stepped out and asked if we had a match. None of us were smokers, but we felt in our pockets and acted disappointed that we could not help out. We then continued on. We saw the dome, and were not impressed, so we started back to the hotel, now walking the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. As we reached the bridge over I-20 and started across, we began to hear voices yelling. We looked across the street, and it was our friends who wanted a match. I could here one of them yelling "6 on 6! Come on, 6 on 6!" In my coolest leader voice I said to the guys "just ignore them and keep walking." Then the first glass beer bottle hit near us and shattered, and, still being cool, I said "pick up the pace." As more more bottles hit, and finally a plastic flask full of liquor, I very calmly shouted "RUN!!!!" As we sprinted up the slight hill towards a stop light where a policeman was directing traffic, three very interesting things were happening. They had come to our side of the street, but weren't really chasing us. We were sprinting, and I was in FRONT, meaning I was out-running our track star Bruce! And finally, as I counted heads, I kept getting 5, when there were in fact 6 of us! I looked back to see that Darek was not running. He was very calmly walking behind us. When we all reached the corner, we hurried to tell the police officer the whole story. He just starred at me. After lecturing me for walking downtown in the early evening in a city where gangs ruled, he then cut to the chase. "A match" he informed us, "is gang talk for a fight. When they were yelling 6 on 6 they were calling you out. When you walked by them and checked your pockets for a real match, they took that as a sign of disrespect. Now go back to your hotel and DO NOT leave it again tonight!"  We did just that. After arriving in our rooms, we locked every lock we could find, and then began talking trash about how we could have beaten them...to ourselves, of course! We also began to question what good it was two have 2 black belts with us if they were not going to protect us. What could have been a real disaster turned into a memory I will never forget, and I suspect they won't either. I have been to Atlanta with groups many times since, and I never fail to tell the story of the night the 6 preppies almost got in a gang fight!

On the trip back we only had one major incident. We were filling the gas tank when the automatic shut off on the pump failed, and we pumped a few gallons of gas all over the car and the parking lot. All in all, we survived the "highway to hell" and lived to tell about it. And as with many other youth trips over the years, this shared history became a cornerstone of our relationships.  And our relationships with each other lead to a better understanding of our relationship with God.

I suppose there should be a moral to this story, so here it is: NEVER drink Nehi Peach Soda!


Because of Jesus,

Throwback Thursday: The Legend of the Country Quakers

Happy Throwback Thursday! Yesterday was the great Tony Campolo's 80th birthday. Tony is one of the great storytellers our our time, quoted in sermons on a regular basis. But to celebrate here, I thought I would share my favorite story (originally posted in 2009) ABOUT Tony. It's one for the ages...

In the late 70's or early 80's (those years really run together in my mind!) Alan Brown showed up at my house one day having written most of a song about a blue pick-up truck. It was the type of song where heartbreak is all around- a true parody of country music. I helped him (very little) finish it, and it became legendary around Quaker Lake Camp and NC Young Friends events. As time passed, Alan was not around those events much and I took to singing it by myself. In 1986 I sang it at New England Yearly Meeting and it killed. It seemed that people everywhere could get into this song.

At the 1987 National Youth Workers Convention in Atlanta there was going to be a "talent show" at the annual Wittenburg Door Banquet. I had brought my guitar with me, and at some point Terry Venable, Ray Luther and I decided we would audition for the banquet and sing Blue Pick-Up Truck. The three of us had never performed the song together before, but we would be bound together by history. Ray would follow me as Youth Pastor at Springfield Friends Meeting, and then would follow Terry as Senior Pastor there. He was still Pastor there until December of 2014. Ray was by far the best singer of the group; I knew the verses; Terry was there for moral support! We auditioned under the name The Country Quakers. They let us sing part of the song and then told us we would get a call letting us know if we were in. The call came, and we would make our debut in front of 800  or so youth workers. 

The Wittenburg Door Banquet was a wild affair each year, and 1987 was no different. We were sharing a table with some Mennonites who were wearing suits and hotel shower caps. People dressed crazy, acted crazy and had lots of fun, all without the benefit of alcohol! Wayne Rice did his Sinatra impression ("I did it His way...") and Mike Yaconelli made fun of everyone. Before we knew it, it was our time to take the stage, one of the final acts of the night.

I introduced the song in my usual way- "How many of you like country music?" After the cheer went up in response, I said, "Well then you will hate this..."  It got a good laugh and started the song. The first verse and chorus passed with some laughter, but we had no indication of what was about to happen. People began to clap along with the music. After the second verse, as we started the chorus again, I jokingly yelled out, "Sing it if you know it!"  To our shock, they did!  "There's a blue pick-up truck where my heart used to be" rang out like Born to Run at a Springsteen concert! The place was now rocking, and we were really getting into it. Everyone in the place was standing and clapping along. The room itself was pretty dark, with candles on every table. Sometime during the final verse we noticed that someone at one of the front tables was standing in a chair and waving a candle. Others began to copy him, until he and some of the crowd were actually on the tables singing and waving candles. We couldn't really see at the time, but when the lights came up we discovered it was Tony Campolo, world renowned speaker and teacher, who had been the lead dancer! We received a huge standing ovation, and Wayne Rice told me he thought we might be the biggest hit in the history of the banquet. Tic Long, who selected the acts for the night, told us later he had chosen us because he thought we would get booed off the stage; we were supposed to have been the "Gong Show" act of the night! I just hate that this was before the days of video phones; I would love to have a tape of it all!

The next day we were full-blown celebrities. Everyone wanted to say hi and offer congratulations. Yohann Anderson wanted to publish the song. Tony himself stopped me in the hall to tell me how much fun it had been for him. The Wittenburg Door Banquet was discontinued shorty thereafter, so that was my one and only bit of  NYWC fame. It was also the one and only performance of The Country Quakers.  Always leave 'em wanting more, right? 

Because of Jesus,

Magic Moments: The 6 Preppies

Marshall & Darek in NYC

It's another Throwback Thursday. and today I begin my countdown of 10 magic moments in youth ministry that I know I will never forget. This week we go back to the beginning. In April of 1982 I was working at New Garden Friends Meeting, and I planned a quick trip to Atlanta to see a Braves games for myself and a few of our high school guys. It would be a most memorable weekend for 6 naive white boys from small town NC...

There were signs all along the way that this would be an unusual event.  First of all, the Braves, pitiful for so long, had begun the season with 13 straight wins, a major league record. We would see their 14th game.  Since there were 6 of us going, my car was not large enough, so I borrowed a station wagon from some parents of the youth, Loy and Connie Newby. As we left Greensboro and began the trek down I-85, we were excited and loud, a regular car full of regular young men.  Somewhere in South Carolina we found a radio station that was doing a unique event. It was a song challenge.  They would play 2 songs to battle each other, and then a third song while people called in their votes. This being WAY before cell phones we couldn't vote, but it was fun to listen.  The winning song would then be give another competitor and played again.  After a few rounds of this, the AC/DC song Highway to Hell became the champion.  And then it won again.  And again.  And again!  We soon grew sick of the song (it finally lost to the Beatles!) but we realized then and there this trip had a theme, and it was not a good one!  Entering Georgia we stopped at a truck stop for gas, and several of us decided to try a Nehi Peach Soda, which may have been the most disgusting thing I have ever tried to drink, and remember, I was a youth pastor and used to disgusting things!  But finally, we arrived in Atlanta.

After checking in at our hotel, a Ramada Inn (I think) across from Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, we headed over for the game.  It was exciting to be there when the crowd was actually thinking the Braves could win.  We settled in and watched as the Braves lost for the first time that year.  Bob Horner hit a home run for the Braves, but I missed it while standing in line for food.  More signs- but we still didn't see them.  As we left the game it was still light out, so we decided to walk up and visit the golden dome of the Georgia state capitol building which was just up the street.

I should tell you a little about the group.  Marshall Ratledge, later to become a Quaker Lake Camp legend as The Magnet; Danny and Darek Newby (whose parents loaned me the car), who also eventually worked at camp and were both black belts in some sort of martial arts; Jimmy Hale, a golfer; Bruce Reynolds, football player and track star; and myself made up our merry band.  We were all dressed in classic preppy, and we headed into downtown Atlanta on foot absolutely clueless of what we were about to encounter. As we started down the sidewalk we had came to a group of young men who were standing on corner, and smiled as we came to them.  One of them stepped out and asked if we had a match.  None of us were smokers, but we felt in our pockets and acted disappointed that we could not help out.  We then continued on.  We saw the dome, and were not impressed, so we started back to the hotel, now walking the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.  As we reached the bridge over I-20 and started across, we began to hear voices yelling.  We looked across the street, and it was our friends who wanted a match.  I could here one of them yelling "6 on 6! Come on, 6 on 6!"  In my coolest leader voice I said to the guys "just ignore them and keep walking."  Then the first glass beer bottle hit near us and shattered, and, still being cool, I said "pick up the pace."  As more more bottles hit, and finally a plastic flask full of liquor, I very calmly shouted "RUN!!!!"  As we sprinted up the slight hill towards a stop light where a policeman was directing traffic, three very interesting things were happening.  They had come to our side of the street, but weren't really chasing us.  We were sprinting, and I was in FRONT, meaning I was out-running our track star Bruce!  And finally, as I counted heads, I kept getting 5, when there were in fact 6 of us!  I looked back to see that Darek was not running.  He was very calmly walking behind us.  When we all reached the corner, we hurried to tell the police officer the whole story.  He just starred at me.  After lecturing me for walking downtown in the early evening in a city where gangs ruled, he then cut to the chase.  "A match" he informed us, "is gang talk for a fight. When they were yelling 6 on 6 they were calling you out.  When you walked by them and checked your pockets for a real match, they took that as a sign of disrespect.  Now go back to your hotel and DO NOT leave it again tonight!"  We did just that. After arriving in our rooms, we locked every lock we could find, and then began talking trash about how we could have beaten them...to ourselves, of course!  We also began to question what good it was two have 2 black belts with us if they were not going to protect us.  What could have been a real disaster turned into a memory I have never forgotten, and I suspect they haven't either.  I have been to Atlanta with groups many times since, and I never fail to tell the story of the night the 6 preppies almost got in a gang fight!

On the trip back we only had one major incident.  We were filling the gas tank when the automatic shut off on the pump failed, and we pumped a few gallons of gas all over the car and the parking lot.  All in all, we survived the "highway to hell" and lived to tell about it. And as with many other youth trips over the years, this shared history became a cornerstone of our relationships.  And our relationships with each other lead to a better understanding of our relationship with God.

Choosing that night as one of my top 10 Magic Moments was a no-brainer. And since I suppose there should be a moral to this story,  here it is: NEVER drink Nehi Peach Soda!

Because of Jesus,

Friday Flashback: One Weird Night In Atlanta

The old Springfield gang, including
Natalie, Beth & "Sam!"

Today we flashback to an older post from my days in High Point, NC (1986-1994).  If you follow this blog or know me at all, then you know I have had many adventures in Atlanta over the years (see my posts about getting mugged and table dancing).  One summer (I think 1992) a small group of us travelled from Springfield Friends Meeting to Hotlanta on our yearly trip to see the Braves play baseball.  I remember very little about the game.  I do, however, have vivid memories of two late night adventures. There are few stories I can tell you that reveal more about the weird, wild and wacky nature of youth ministry...

In those days it was not unusual at all for me to drive the church van and be the only adult on short over-night trips, something that would of course never happen today.  We always stayed in "bargain" motels, so the rooms were a bit iffy.  After the game we had returned to the motel and were getting ready for bed when I heard a knock at my door.  Natalie Whitaker (and I think Beth Brown and Jill Gilbreth) were standing there looking a bit goofy.  They explained to me that their toilet was clogged.  I said I would come take a look at it.  They were giggling as we walked over, so I knew something was not quite right. They led me to the toilet, watching me carefully for my reaction.  As I starred into the porcelain abyss, I saw why.  In this room full of young teenage girls, someone had created the single largest piece of poop I had (or have) ever seen in my life.  And it would not flush!  The artist behind this "masterpiece" was not any of the girls named above, and to protect the guilty we will call the culprit Sam.  Sam sat on one of the beds, smiling and blushing as I gasped at the size of her creation.  I called the front desk, but it was too late for maintenance- so they sent up a plunger for me to use.  I could not plunge the toilet- I had to use the plunger to break up the monster into smaller pieces.  Only then could I flush.  I left their room a bit shaken, thinking the strangest part of my night was behind me.  I was so very wrong...

A few hours later, around 1 AM, I was sound asleep when I heard another knock.  This time Sam was standing there, and she had a problem.  That special time of the month had arrived, and she had no supplies.  (As a side note I should mention that any male who plans on being in youth ministry for any amount of time had better learn to talk about these things.  Because you WILL have to do it sooner or later- and, based on my personal experience, you will have to do it on EVERY ski trip!)  So at this ungodly hour I loaded Sam into our 15 passenger church van (name on the side, of course) and drove her to look for a convenience store.  There was very little open, and the part of Atlanta we were in was rather scary.  We finally found an open store, but there was a catch.  No one could actually enter the store.  They had a drive-thru window, with metal bars protecting the worker.  This, of course, meant I would have to place an order for the needed supplies.  I pulled up and placed my order- and was told they did not have the particular brand name that Sam used.  The worker told me what they had, and Sam said she did not use that brand.  My response was simple- "You do now!"  We made our purchase, headed back to the motel and called it a night- AGAIN!  I lay in bed for another hour or so, contemplating my career choice and my sanity, but understanding that this was exactly what I had signed up for- to serve students in the name of Jesus.  Before I knew it, it was morning and I had survived that most strange night. 


"Sam," I know you are out there reading, and I know you know I love ya!  Thanks for a night I will never forget...no matter how hard I try!  Youth ministry is many things.  Dull is almost never one of them...

Because of Jesus,

The Legend of The Country Quakers

As I mentioned yesterday, the Youth Specialties National Youth Workers Convention is in Atlanta this week.  I attended several conventions in Atlanta, but there is always one moment that stands out in my mind above all others.  This is that story.

Alan & I at QLC

In the late 70's or early 80's (those years really run together in my mind!) Alan Brown showed up at my house one day having written most of a song about a blue pick-up truck. It was the type of song where heartbreak is all around- a true parody of country music.  I helped him finish it, and it became legendary around Quaker Lake Camp and NC Young Friends events.  As time passed, Alan was not around those events much and I took to singing it by myself.  In 1986 I sang it at New England Yearly Meeting and it killed.  It seemed that people everywhere could get into this song.

At the 1987 National Youth Workers Convention in Atlanta there was going to be a "talent show" at the annual Wittenburg Door Banquet.  I had brought my guitar with me, and at some point Terry Venable, Ray Luther and I decided we would audition for the banquet and sing Blue Pick-Up Truck.  The three of us had never performed the song together before, but we woould be bound together by history.  Ray would follow me as Youth Pastor at Springfield Friends Meeting, and they would follow Terry as Senior Pastor. He is still Pastor there today.   Ray was by far the best singer of the group; I knew the verses; Terry was there for moral support!  We auditioned under the name The Country Quakers.  They let us sing part of the song and then told us we would get a call letting us know if we were in.  The call came, and we would make our debut in front of 800 or so youth workers.  

The Wittenburg Door Banquet was a wild affair each year, and 1987 was no different.  We were sharing a table with some Mennonites who were wearing hotel shower caps.  People dressed crazy, acted crazy and had lots of fun, all without the benefit of alcohol!  Wayne Rice did his Sinatra impression ("I did it His way...") and Mike Yaconelli made fun of everyone.  Before we knew it, it was our time to take the stage, one of the final acts of the night.

I introduced the song in my usual way- "How many of you like country music?"  After the cheer went up in response, I would say, "Well then you will hate this..."   We got a good laugh and started the song.  The first verse and chorus passed with some laughter, but we had no indication of what was about to happen. People began to clap along with the music.  After the second verse, as we started the chorus again, I jokingly yelled out, "Sing it if you know it!"  To our shock, they did!  The place was now rocking, and we were really getting into it.  Everyone in the room was standing and clapping along.  The room itself was pretty dark, with candles on every table.  Sometime during the final verse we noticed that someone at one of the front tables was standing in a chair and waving a candle.  Others began to copy him, until he and some of the crowd were actually on the tables singing and waving candles.  We couldn't really see at the time, but when the lights came up we discovered it was Tony Campolo, world renowned speaker and teacher, who had been our biggest fan!  We received a huge standing ovation, and Wayne Rice told me he thought we might be the biggest hit in the history of the banquet.  Tic Long, who selected the acts for the night, told us later he had chosen us because he thought we would get booed off the stage; we were supposed to have been the "Gong Show" act of the night!    I just hate that this was before the days of video phones; I would love to have a tape of it all.  But trust me, the song is EPIC!  I will consider recording the song to publish here on the blog- if enough of you request it! :)

The next day we were full blown celebrities.  Everyone wanted to say hi and offer congratulations.  Yohann Anderson wanted to publish the song.  Tony himself stopped me in the hall to tell me how much fun it had been for him.  The Wittenburg Door Banquet changed and then was discontinued, so that was my one and only bit of  NYWC fame.  It was also the one and only performance of The Country Quakers.  Always leave 'em wanting more, right?  


Because of Jesus,

The One and Only Senior Trip

Front Row:  Cyndi Reep, Teresa Reep, Tommy Weaver
Back Row:  Jacob Lupfer, Cindy Franklin, Ben Thompson, Nate Hill, Matt Stewart
The clown is NOT Jill Souther!

I got into a bit of trouble here yesterday when I mentioned certain graduating classes that had a special impact on my life and ministry at the First United Methodist Church of Kissimmee and failed to mention some others.  Someone (choosing to remain anonymous, although my money is on Erica) commented that the Class of '03 was small (Caitlin Esry, Erica Souther, Josh Fry and Eric Jakobsen) but faithful.  And they were right.  So was the Class of '02 (Amber Herrick, Sarah Crudele, Adam Hill, Andrew Rogers and friends) and the Class of '00 ( or should I just say John Holmes- I think he was it for that year!).  I also heard from Catie Cook, reminding me that she too was a part of the class of 2001.  But the comment that really caught my attention came from another anonymous person who said the the Class of '99 was the most special.  And after a moment of reflection, I couldn't argue with that statement.  The Class of '99 was indeed special.

For many years I had been aware that we in student ministry do a poor job of marking significant events in the lives of our students.  Rites of passage like drivers licences and moving into high school often go unmarked when they should be celebrated.  At various times I offered to take students to dinner when they turned 16 and other special times.  Our Senior Roasts were often the highlights of  the graduation season for our youth.  I had always wanted to do a senior trip, but it was one of those things I had never been able to fit into my schedule or theirs.  In early 1999, I decided to change that.  I began talking with that phenomenal group about a trip, and after some serious planning we picked a weekend and decided to go to Atlanta.  Not everyone could go, but as you can see from the picture at the top (I could have sworn Erin Bay & Jill Souther went too- am I nuts?), we had a good group.  And we had a blast.

We went to an Atlanta Hawks game (that's where we met the clown).  We toured the World Of Coke and Underground Atlanta.  While there we ate lunch at Hooter's, which at the time seemed scandalous!  Nate made us go see The Matrix, and (at least) Teresa and I feel asleep.  We visited the Hard Rock Cafe.  And we celebrated the memories and friendships that had made the previous 5 years so special.  It was a wonderful weekend.

I realized that this was something I should have been doing for years, and was excited to begin a new tradition.  I didn't know at the time that 1999 would be the last class I would see graduate during my time at FUMC-K, and the only Senior Trip I would ever lead.  I didn't fully understand how important such a trip could be until early 2000 when I announced I was leaving.  The aforementioned John Holmes, one of our only active seniors that year, was devastated that he would not get a senior trip- even if it was just the two of us.  Relationships formed in the name of Jesus are amazing and powerful, and far too often underestimated.  Tomorrow I will tell you about another trip (from another church with an entirely different group of people) that also demonstrates the significance of those bonds.  But for today, I say thank you to the Class of 1999 for their leadership, their friendship, and the amazing part they played in my spiritual growth during our years together.    I also want to welcome you all to my Hall of Fame.  Come on down to Tampa and we'll do it again...

Because of Jesus,

Atlanta Oops

Report on Just Me & the Dog, Day 1-  Took a long nap, watched the Rays game, watched the Cubs game, made chocolate chip cookies.  This may work out after all!  :)

As I have mentioned here before, it seems like a ridiculous number of things have happened to me in Atlanta over the years.  You can flashback to previous posts and hear stories of gang fights, table dancing, roadside barfing, ticket "sculpting" and more.  Today I want to tell you two stories from the Kissimmee years that took place on two separate trips to Atlanta.  Both of them are OOPS Moments, and the first oops is all mine...

We left FUMC-K early one morning and drove to Atlanta, headed up for my annual trip to see the Braves play.  I didn't purchase tickets in advance, and planned on buying tickets at Turner Field.  We pulled up in front of the ballpark, and I began to wheel and deal with some of the locals selling tickets.  I don't remember what year it was, but I do remember that Karen Fry was with me, and she was worried something bad was going to happen to me dealing with such unsavory folks.  I assured her there was nothing to worry about.  I found a guy who had as many tickets as we needed together at a price I liked, and I purchased them.  It was a very simple transaction.  I got back in the van, feeling rather proud of myself.  I began to show the tickets to the kids when I realized something was terribly wrong.  The tickets were not for that night; they were for later that weekend.  I ran back out to find the guy, but he was long gone.  I eventually sold the tickets at a huge loss and we got cheaper seats for the game.  That was my last adventure with scalping tickets.  I also believe that this was the same trip when the van broke down on the way home and we spent several hours at a gas station in Gainesville.  The whole trip was one giant OOPS.

We were back in Atlanta in the summer of 1999.  Chad Deetz (far left) had replaced Jerry Hanbery as my Summer Intern, and was just starting to really feel comfortable in those rather large shoes.  We happened to be in town at the same time as Ozfest, a heavy metal festival headlined by Ozzy Osborne.  We came back to our motel after the game, had some worship time together, and then headed off for bed.  I remember I was rooming with the youngest guys, and Chad was with some of the other guys.  I know for sure he was with Josh Fry and Eric Jakobsen.  Sometimes after midnight I got a call telling me to come to their room, that there was trouble.  I walked to the other side of our floor and discovered that the police had come to their room.  It seems that my guys, led by my intern, had been out on the balcony having a water fight with the girls next door.  The officer had been doing a drive-thru of the motel parking lot and had seen the water war.  Thinking these young people might be in Atlanta for Ozfest, and therefore likely to be on drugs (his thinking, not mine), he came up to the room.  He demanded to see ID, but Josh was only 13 or 14 and had none.  The officer did not believe Josh was that young, since at that age he could already grow a full beard!  We got it all worked out, and I made the guys apologize to the front desk the next morning, which was really funny because the front desk had no idea anything had happened.  It was just a wild night.  Later that summer Chad spent a lot of time lost with the second van while driving around Nashville on our Mission Trip. It is safe to say he earned his stripes that summer, and went on to full time youth ministry as a vocation.  But that night he almost lost a job that didn't really pay anything to begin with...

I hope you can see how doing youth ministry for 28 years made for a very strong prayer life.  :)   Only one month left in my year of blogging, so stay with me.  There is really good stuff still to come!

Because of Jesus,

A Frosty Experience

Lauren Carr was one of my favorite youth from the first day I met her.  There was just something about Lauren that was special.  She is pictured at left with Amber Herrick and Chrissy Weaver, who often referred to themselves as Carl's Angels.  I have many memories of the three of them, including a lunch at Friendly's after I moved to Chicago and came back for Lisa Kraus's wedding that I will NEVER forget!  But there is one Lauren story that stands above all the rest...

I already knew before the Mid-High Adventure Trip of 1995 that Lauren required a specific diet.  Her favorite food- in fact, the ONLY real food she would eat- was macaroni and cheese.  And not just any mac and cheese; it had to be Kraft!  I do have some memory of riding around Atlanta trying to find her some KFC so she could eat the skin off of the chicken, but for the most part it was Kraft mac and cheese or bust.  Upon reaching the Ocoee Inn on the trip we ate in their restaurant, where they had mac and cheese, but alas it was not Kraft.  Lauren would eat junk food when we stopped for gas, but for the most part she just did not eat much on our trips. 

We were coming back through Atlanta on our way home to Kissimmee when we stopped at a Wendy's, and Lauren got a Frosty.  We proceeded on down the highway, and for the second time in my life (see A Waste of Good Cookies) I had someone tell me, in the midst of Atlanta rush hour traffic, that they might need to stop because of a stomach issue.  And before we knew what was happening, Lauren was sick.  And there was Frosty everywhere.  Inside the white van.  Outside the white van.  ALL OVER the white van!   I cannot fully express to you how unpleasant it was to see this Frosty for the second time.  We pulled off the interstate as hundreds of cars went flying by, and we tried to clean up.  It was at this point that one of our Youth Counselors, Mike Mangan, performed a historic act of bravery.  Mike was helping clean up the mess (which was significant!) and we didn't have nearly enough napkins or paper towels.  Mike was wearing a gray Georgetown University t-shirt, and in a great act of personal sacrifice he took off the shirt and began to use it to soak up the secondhand Frosty.  He mopped up the puke until his shirt was completely saturated.  As we finished our clean-up and were getting back in the van, Mike stood by the roadside, starring at his shirt.  It was almost as if he was saying good-bye.  He then turned and tossed the Frosty stained t-shirt into some bushes by the highway and returned to then van.  Seldom has one man sacrificed so much so that others could ride in a barf-free van...

Lauren got married earlier this year, and I assume her eating habits have improved.  I have no idea if she was ever able to eat a Frosty again.  Mike (about whom I will blog again at a later date) was a great help in our ministry in many more ways than just his janitorial services.  The group that lived through the event loved to tell the story, and were in fact bound together by the experience.  It was just another example of how a shared history brings groups closer together than any lesson, program or event ever could.  Lauren survived.  Mike survived, although his shirt did not.  And the poor white van was never the same again...inside or out!  Used Frosty will never be a popular color for vans...

Because of Jesus,

Sculpting Tickets

Our final stop before heading for home to Kissimmee on our 1994 mission trip was a fun stop in Atlanta.  I had not really made any plans for this stop; I just knew I wanted us to have some fun to wrap up what had at times been a very stressful trip.  And we did have some fun...

We got rooms in a Days Inn just off the interstate and located behind a strip club.  It turned out we were not is a very nice part of town, but we didn't really care.  It was decided we would try to go to an Atlanta Braves game.  We had no tickets, but I had been to enough Braves games to know you can always scalp tickets outside the stadium.  So off we went.  I remember absolutely nothing about the game.  To tell you the truth, I don't even remember if we got in.  I do remember how excited Jocelyn Sessions was that we were going to scalp tickets.  She just kept talking about it.  Only thing was, she kept referring to the fact that we were going to "sculpt" tickets.  It was hilarious.  We all kept joking about what that would look like; to see artists sitting in front of Fulton County Stadium forging tickets out of clay.  "Sculpting" tickets became a catch phrase I used for many years.  Jocelyn would have many more "moments" in the coming years, and you will read about them here;  they would only reinforce what a special part of our youth family she was!

The next day (I think) we visited Underground Atlanta.  Again, I have very little memory of the event, but it did produce one of my all-time favorite group pictures (at top).  Getting dressed up, posing for the photo and laughing so hard we couldn't stand up was exactly the finish the trip needed.  The guys look so serious because the photographer wanted us to look like old west bandits- and it worked.  The girls were just supposed to look pretty- and they did!  It was all great fun.  We headed home with a new bond, new enthusiasm and a bright future.  God can do amazing things when we surrender to Him.  Dr. Jill definitely got it right- it was the best worst week ever!  See you tomorrow.

Because of Jesus,

A Strange Night In Atlanta

If you follow this blog or know me, then you know I have had many adventures in Atlanta over the years (see my posts about getting mugged and table dancing).  One summer (I think 1992) a group of us travelled from Springfield Friends Meeting to Atlanta on our yearly trip to see the Braves play baseball.  I remember very little about the game.  I do, however, have vivid memories of two late night adventures.

We always stayed in "bargain" motels on these trips, so the rooms were a bit iffy.  After the game we had returned to the motel and were getting ready for bed when I heard a knock at my door.  Natalie Whitaker (and I think Beth Brown and Jill Gilbreth, but I could be wrong) were standing there looking a bit goofy.  They explained to me that their toilet was clogged.  I said I would come take a look at it.  They were giggling as we walked over, so I knew something was not quite right. They led me to the toilet, watching me carefully for my reaction.  As I starred into the porcelain abyss, I saw why.  In this room full of young teenage girls, someone had created the single largest piece of poop I had (or have) ever seen in my life.  And it would not flush!  The artist behind this "masterpiece" was not any of the girls named above, and to protect the guilty we will call the villain Sam.  Sam sat on one of the beds, smiling and blushing as I gasped at the size of her creation.  I called the front desk, but it was too late for maintenance- so they sent up a plunger for me to use.  I could not plunge the toilet- I had to use the plunger to break up the monster into smaller pieces.  Only then could I flush.  I left their room a bit shaken, thinking the strangest part of my night was behind me.  I was so very wrong...

A few hours later, around 1 AM, I was sound asleep when I heard another knock.  This time Sam was standing there, and she had a problem.  That special time of the month had arrived, and she had no supplies.  (As a side note I should mention that any male who plans on being in youth ministry for any amount of time had better learn to talk about these things.  Because you WILL have to do it sooner or later- and you will have to do it on EVERY ski trip!)  So at this ungodly hour I loaded Sam into our 15 passenger church van (name on the side, of course) and drove her to look for a convenience store.  There was very little open, and the part of Atlanta we were in was rather scary.  We finally found an open store, but there was a catch.  No one could actually enter the store.  They had a drive-thru window, with metal bars protecting the worker.  This, of course, meant I would have to place an order for the needed supplies.  I pulled up and placed my order- and was told they did not have the particular brand name that Sam used.  The worker told me what they had, and Sam said she did not use that brand.  My response was simple- "You do now!"  We made our purchase, headed back to the motel and called it a night- AGAIN!  I lay in bed for another hour or so, contemplating my career choice and my sanity, but understanding that this was exactly what I had signed up for- to serve students in the name of Jesus.  Before I knew it, it was morning and I had survived that most strange night.  And "Sam," if you are out there reading this- we love ya!

Because of Jesus,

"There's A Blue Pick-Up Truck Where My Heart Used To Be"

In the late 70's or early 80's (those years really run together in my mind!) Alan Brown showed up at my house one day having written most of a song about a blue pick-up truck. It was the type of song where heartbreak is all around- a true parody of country music.  I helped him finish it, and it became legendary around Quaker Lake Camp and NC Young Friends events.  As time passed, Alan was not around those events much and I took to singing it by myself.  In 1986 I sang it at New England Yearly Meeting and it killed.  It seemed that people everywhere could get into this song.

At the 1987 National Youth Workers Convention in Atlanta there was going to be a "talent show" at the annual Wittenburg Door Banquet.  I had brought my guitar with me, and at some point Terry Venable, Ray Luther and I decided we would audition for the banquet and sing Blue Pick-Up Truck.  The three of us had never performed the song together before, but we would be bound together by history.  Ray would follow me as Youth Pastor at Springfield Friends Meeting, and they would follow Terry as Senior Pastor. He is still Pastor there today.   Ray was by far the best singer of the group; I knew the verses; Terry was there for moral support!  We auditioned under the name The Country Quakers.  They let us sing part of the song and then told us we would get a call letting us know if we were in.  The call came, and we would make our debut in front of 800 or so youth workers. 

The Wittenburg Door Banquet was a wild affair each year, and 1987 was no different.  We were sharing a table with some Mennonites who were wearing hotel shower caps.  People dressed crazy, acted crazy and had lots of fun, all without the benefit of alcohol!  Wayne Rice did his Sinatra impression ("I did it His way...") and Mike Yaconelli made fun of everyone.  Before we knew it, it was our time to take the stage, one of the final acts of the night.

I introduced the song in my usual way- "How many of you like country music?"  After the cheer went up in response, I said, "Well then you will hate this..."   We got a good laugh and started the song.  The first verse and chorus passed with some laughter, but we had no indication of what was about to happen. People began to clap along with the music.  After the second verse, as we started the chorus again, I jokingly yelled out, "Sing it if you know it!"  To our shock, they did!  The place was now rocking, and we were really getting into it.  Everyone in the room was standing and clapping along.  The room itself was pretty dark, with candles on every table.  Sometime during the final verse we noticed that someone at one of the front tables was standing in a chair and waving a candle.  Others began to copy him, until he and some of the crowd were actually on the tables singing and waving candles.  We couldn't really see at the time, but when the lights came up we discovered it was Tony Campolo, world renowned speaker and teacher, who had been our biggest fan!  We received a huge standing ovation, and Wayne Rice told me he thought we might be the biggest hit in the history of the banquet.  Tic Long, who selected the acts for the night, told us later he had chosen us because he thought we would get booed off the stage; we were supposed to have been the "Gong Show" act of the night!    I just hate that this was before the days of video phones; I would love to have a tape of it all!

The next day we were full blown celebrities.  Everyone wanted to say hi and offer congratulations.  Yohann Anderson wanted to publish the song.  Tony himself stopped me in the hall to tell me how much fun it had been for him.  The Wittenburg Door Banquet was discontinued shorty thereafter, so that was my one and only bit of  NYWC fame.  It was also the one and only performance of The Country Quakers.  Always leave 'em wanting more, right? 

Because of Jesus,

Atlanta, 1987

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After a five year absence I returned to the Youth Specialties National Youth Workers Convention (NYWC) in Atlanta in the Fall of 1987.  This time, however, I did not go alone!  Terry Venable, Ray Luther and I made the six hour drive south and shared a room together at the Westin Peachtree Plaza (pictured above).  This was a very eventful trip in many ways, so I will I share a few stories today and one big story tomorrow...

We checked in and began to explore this huge tower of a hotel, riding the elevators to the top and checking out the rotating roof top restaurant (which, after checking the prices, we knew we would NOT see again!) and the indoor swimming pool.  We entered the pool area (fully dressed) and found one guy swimming.  He saw us and asked if we were youth workers, and we proudly proclaimed that we were.  Without hesitation, he took his hand and splashed water all over the three of us!  We laughed and moved on, but we also thought him to be somewhat of a jerk.  Later, we found out we had just been splashed by Rick Bundschuh, noted author and illustrator of youth curriculum and a seminar leader at the NYWC. For years after this we would pronounce his name Bund-is-shuu-shuu-shuu, with much the same attitude with which Seinfeld would later say "Newman!"  Rick later became a friend of mine, and as I got to know him I understood that we could have suffered a much worse fate!  Rick was one of the great examples of what it meant to live on the edge for Christ, once losing his job for giving away pew Bibles to youth that didn't have any.  To this day I still refer to it as a "Bundschuh" when someone is fired for the glory of God.  He also wrote the brilliant book Don't Rock the Boat- Capsize It! in 2005.  The book is subtitled "Loving the church too much to leave it the way it is."  Rick is currently a pastor in Hawaii.  It's a tough gig, but someone has to do it!

At some point during the NYWC I took a seminar on publicity and promotion led by Greg McKinnon.  I came out of the session making two promises to myself.  The next summer I was going to program in a brand new way, taking advantage of the free time and the boredom most kids have during summer break.  Secondly, I was going to take our communication with our students to a whole new level.  The direct results of this seminar were the summer booklets I would do for the next 15 years, and the infamous Youth Group Hotline.  In all my years at the NYWC, only a couple of seminars had greater impact on my ministry.

The real story of Atlanta, 1987, however, was a performance by a previously unknown band called The Country Quakers that led to a most unlikely audience member dancing on his table at the Wittenburg Door Banquet.  But that's tomorrow's story!

Because of Jesus,

A Waste of Good Cookies

This coming weekend, October 2-4, they are having a Quaker Lake staff reunion that we will not be able to attend. In honor of this gathering of some of my favorite people, every post this week will have a Quaker Lake connection. It's my little way of participating in the festivities!

Those of you who have been following along with this blog for the past month will be aware of the name Carl Semmler (at right- he's the groom! Also in this picture are Beth, Tammy, Donna, Steve, Martha and Alan from previous posts.). Carl and I grew up going to school together; his brother Steve was my best friend for many years; he worked as a lifeguard at QLC for several summers; and he, Alan Brown and I took a cross country trip in May of 1979. He has been featured in several stories here already, including his work on the infamous Project Myrtle. Today I want to tell you a few more.

When we were in high school our New Garden Friends youth group attended a gathering of local Quaker youth groups called a Quarterly Meeting. We knew almost no one else there, and realized quickly that some of the other groups were a good bit more "religious" than we were. After some gathering time, we were seated in a circle, with the groups sitting together. The leader said we were going to go around the circle and introduce ourselves, and from where they started there were maybe 7 or 8 youth who would go before our first representative, Carl. The first person began by telling their name, church and the exact day and time they had been "saved." This was not a word we had in our spiritual vocabulary. We talked about "walking in the Light" and being on a "spiritual journey," not about THE day we met Jesus. As each person followed the same pattern, we grew more uncomfortable and wondered what Carl would say. When his turn arrived, he kept it simple: "I'm Carl Semmler from New Garden, and I play basketball." The pressure was immediately off the rest of us, and we were very grateful to Carl for his courage to say only what he knew to be true at the time.

Carl was a master prank player at QLC (although he and Mark Farlow were the recipients of maybe the greatest prank ever, when the Dentiste twins and Emily Ballus went in their room in the lodge and stringed it, making it look like one of those laser systems thieves have to avoid in the movies. They then put molasses on the string and hung extremely stinky lake weed all over the room. It was a classic!). One summer Carl had decided to try a nasty and daring prank on one of the female staff members who used a shampoo that was dark and gooey- much like pancake syrup! He thought he would replace her shampoo with syrup and see what would happen. Unfortunately for Carl, this was the summer the "no wasteful pranks rules" went into effect, and so he could not use syrup. He spent all summer trying to make his own, boiling down tree bark to get sap and hoping for a miracle. He did not get one, but he did manage to ruin a perfectly good pot from the kitchen in the process. Ah, what might have been...

Carl, Alan and I began our trip out west by leaving Greensboro for Chatanooga and Carl's Uncle Ronnie's house. We left in my Dad's Honda Civic wagon that we called Clyde, and we were loaded down with camping gear, luggage and a tin of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies given to us by Martha Ratledge. For reasons I no longer remember, we went from NC to TN by way of Atlanta. We hit Atlanta around afternoon rush hour, and Alan was driving and Carl was asleep in the back seat. He awoke to find us in the middle of a traffic jam, and greeted us with the following words: "No rush guys, but I need to find a bathroom." Less than a minute later he was throwing up all over the back seat. Desperate for damage control, I dumped Martha's cookies on the floor and handed him the tin to barf in- but it was no use. We finally worked our way off of the interstate and to a gas station, where we cleaned up the car- but the smell was unbearable. The first day of a month long trip and Carl had totaled the interior of Clyde. Lacking anything else (and apparently common sense as well) we used my Gillette Foamy Lemon-Lime shaving creme on the vinyl seats to try and mask the smell. The result was a smell never before or since found in this world or any other. We made it to Chatanooga and begged Uncle Ronnie to keep Carl, but he refused, and so we carried on without further incident.

My theme for this week will be simple- Quaker Lake Camp is a very ordinary place that has always been made special by extraordinary people. It is also a place where people have been moved by God, whether they are on a "spiritual journey" or have been "saved." Carl Semmler is one of those extraordinary people...even if he did make us waste some perfectly good cookies!

Because of Jesus,