I met Bill at Baylor University. He was a fellow ministerial student who imprinted his fraternity shirt with a mock Latin phrase, “Quid tibi est?”
In 1978, Google was a long way off, so my fellow pledges asked him to translate it.
“What’s it to you?” he asked.
“Oh, come on,” we said. “Just tell us what it means.”
Mocking us as lowly plebes, he weighted the last two words, “What’s it TO YOU?”
Like most pastors, I send out a weekly email to church members and friends previewing my sermon topic and promoting upcoming events.
After the November election, I received this email from a person I’ll call Joe Christian:
“Please remove us from your e-mail list. I wish to get as far away as possible from the poison in this country that is evangelical Christianity.”
Last month, before I was to speak at the Sacramento Rotary Club, my wife Becky asked, “Do you think you’ll ever fully retire?”
I answered, “Definitely! Mostly. Maybe?”
She asks because she knows I sometimes struggle to write this column, travel for speaking engagements and pastor a small church.
It’s all rewarding, but a lot of work.
Sometimes, I feel like the man who had enough with life’s difficulties and went to live in a monastery.
Once in the monastery, the man was instructed to speak only two words per year.
After his first year, he met with his abbot. His two words, “Bed hard.”
After his second year, he told his abbot, “Food bad.”
Finally, on his third year, he came to the abbot’s office and said, “I quit.”
Headed to the airport to drop off my wife Becky, a question popped into my head.
“Why did God have to make his Ten Commandments so negative?” I asked.
“Pardon me?” she replied.
My non sequiturs confuse many people. Becky usually plays along.
“When we were raising kids, you taught me to use affirming directions rather than negative ones,” I said. “For example, you suggested I not say, ‘Don’t run,’ but instead say, ‘Please walk.’”
I was 28 when the Air Force sent me to Air University at Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery, Alabama, to complete Chaplain Basic Training.
For three weeks, I was elbow-to-elbow with other young chaplain wannabes.
On my left sat the first of many chaplain priest friends. Yet from the beginning, Father Frank found me disturbing on two levels.
