Monday, October 31, 2011

S.W.A.T church

Okay. So, it's been almost three months since I posted. Most of the posting has been for my own personal benefit, an emotional enema, if you will. For some who read this blog they have found amusement, maybe a sliver of inspiration, or, in many cases, a diversion to make it through a work day. I won't get big headed about people who say they read my blog: actually, I'd like to, but that wouldn't be humble, and I'm really proud of my humility. The calculated amount of people who read this blog probably reaches into the tens of ones - which is why I mostly blog for my own benefit, but I love the comments after I haven't done it for a while. This is from my former neighbor, Merv,
Kept looking for a blog from Reid and decided he must have broken both arms and couldn't write...

Or, this one from a friend in Arkansas,
I haven't seen a new blog since August 10th... I pray nothing has happened to keep him from writing those as I always look forward to the next one coming out.
Thanks, David, just a reeeeeaally nice way of saying "Stop being so lazy, Reid, and do what you like to do."

Lastly, and probably the best, Thanks for the photos, Christine, sure looks like your husband is losing a lot of hair. Tell him to write his blog.

Nothing like the honesty of friends.

The family and I were driving to church on a Sunday night last month - October. It was an exciting night, the first in a string of nights with the word fest attached to them. Oktoberfest - at church. With the rest of the congregation, we'd been planning Oktoberfest for months. Christine had organized a sheet for people to bring food for the potluck; I had been running down music and a script for the skit. But, what intrigued most people (especially the younger adults and anyone with a last name that sounded even the littlest bit German - you know, names with lots of 'k's' or 'sch's' together) was that we were going to have beer. I know, right, at the church? Beer and brats, throw in the Bible study and you've got a Lutheran rave.

On the way to the church our blue Holden station wagon bounced back and forth between potholes in the road. The floods did great damage to the infrastructure of the highway systems and often driving on country blacktop is like the grainy image of the lunar vehicle bouncing across the moon's surface. As the scenery rolled passed, bounced a little bit, I guess, we noticed life coming back to life. Recent rains had encouraged the grasses to grow again; the dams were full, bursting to the edges while black swans and other fowl floated on the surface. As beautiful as the scenery was, I kept thinking to myself, "Am I doing the right thing? Are we supposed to be having beer after church? Does the Lutheran Church of Australia excommunicate for this sort of thing?"

Most people, when needing directions to Green Pastures Lutheran Church in Lockrose, Queensland, hear that they should turn left after the Brightview Tavern. You know that drinking is part of the culture when the Tavern itself has a children's playground in it, just like the big McDonalds in the States. So, I figured, if people have to be told how to get to church using a bar as a landmark, we might as well make the church hall the very same kind of landmark - not a bar, per se, but a place where people take their time, let their hair down (or in my case, obviously, let my scalp down) and share what's going on in life.

Last week, as I talked with one of the professors from the Lutheran Seminary in Adelaide, I heard him say that it was obvious what Lutheran churches in Australia do really well: they fellowship. He said you could tell what was most important to a church by the size of its buildings. Guess what, the church hall where we gather for events at Green Pastures, is twice as big as the actual sanctuary. Pretty cool, huh?

I turned left at Brightview Tavern noticing the absence of children playing on the monkey bars outside the pub. They must all be heading to church to drink beer. As we neared the small, yellow church, I noticed something different though. At 4:00, the cars were already starting to arrive. Church didn't start until 6:00, so it surprised me that so many were turning up already. Then, I noticed the trailer. Someone had brought a bar-b-q spit! We were going to roast a pig! At Church! And there would be beer! This is the coolest church in the world! Whose idea was it to bring the spit?

I was excited...

Until I noticed Don walking towards me. Don is the chairman of the congregation; he is sturdy and full of laughter. There is almost always a sense that his chest is so full of mirth that any minute the dam might break and I'll be flooded with laughter so deep I might drown in it. He was smiling this night, too, except that it was more of a smirk. We parked our car and I walked over to Don noticing then that all the cars that were parked on the church grounds all looked the same.

"Good evening, Don."
"Evening, Pastor Reid."
"What's going on?" I asked after shaking his hand.
"These guys are some friends of mine from the police department." He motioned toward the hall.
In my head I had sudden flashbacks to college of the police rousting parties that were getting out of hand. But, I'd never heard of the police breaking up a party that hadn't even started yet. Maybe that's how they do it in Australia? It seems to me there are some more disruptive places than churches by the name of Green Pastures to take care of, but, it could have been a slow night.
"Ummm, what are they doing here?" Just as I asked the question, a group of policemen in full body gear came issuing from the hall in full S.W.A.T. gear. They were like angry wasps that buzz out of the nest when you've disturbed them.
"There's going to be a bust in town," Don said.
"Pardon my ignorance," I responded, "But they aren't actually busting Green Pastures' church hall, are they? That probably wouldn't be a good evangelical tool - you know, one of those catchy slogans you'll never put on the billboard, 'Come to Green Pastures: Get saved - Get busted. Don't worry, you're forgiven."
Don laughed. "Nah, it's just up the street. They are just using the hall for a staging point. They should be out of here by the time the service starts."

Excellent. As I looked back again at the trailer, it was not a bar-b-q spit, but a trailer of death: guns, tear gas, ammunition - straight out of a Arnold Schwarzennegar movie. He's got a German last name, he could stay for Oktoberfest. Well, we were in for an interesting night.

Now, the problem that I had was that if the swarm of angry S.W.A.T bees was using the hall for the staging point, how was I going to get the beer in the fridge? It would be kind of strange to walk up to the commanding officer and say, "Excuse me, Captain, I realize that you are kind of busy right now, but do you think it would be alright if I carried a case of beer through your gathering here and put it in the fridge. It's of the utmost importance that this beer stays cold. It could mean life and death to someone."

I couldn't say it like that, but I was pretty sure that people who came to Oktoberfest would rather have cold beer. Deciding to take one for the team I approached one of the officers.

"Excuse me," I stopped one of the black garbed, bullet-proof vested officers who was looking at his machine gun. "Would it be possible for me to go in to the kitchen."

His steely eyes gazed up at me with disdain. Who was this fool with his polo shirt, thinning hair and American accent? Was he a spy from the house that was about to be drug busted?

"What's your name?" he asked me brusquely.

"I'm Pastor Reid Matthias," I hoped that my title would calm his fears and perhaps allow him to lower his weapon of mass destruction. The officer scanned me from head to toe and realized that I was not a threat to him (or to any other segment of the world for that fact).

"No, you can't go in the kitchen."

"But I'm the pastor here. The kitchen needs to be utilized for holding the elements of consecration. The bibles we need are in there. A cross from the Holy City of Adelaide is inside." I didn't really say that but I really wanted to get the beer into the fridge.

"Do you know when we can get into the kitchen?"

"After we leave," the officer responded and then he turned his back on me. Amazing. A pastor turned away from his own...

"Reid," Don said smiling. "They'll be out in a little while. Just let them do their thing. They are trying to be secretive about the bust."

"I can tell," I said sarcastically as I looked over the small army that had assembled. There were roughly fifteen officers in full S.W.A.T. gear (which I looked up means 'Special Weapons and Tactics") two armored vehicles and a whole fleet of unmarked cars. For anyone who lived within five miles of Lockrose, I don't think it was too much of a secret.

The S.W.A.T. team bundled up after about half an hour. While I led Bible study (inside the church, mind you, because the selfish officers wouldn't let us use the hall), the team began to move out. My beautiful wife, in the middle of Bible study got side tracked and began to watch with great amusement until finally, the moment got the best of her and she exclaimed from the back of the church, "They've got two tanks!" Needless to say the kids in the Bible study did a quick calculation of what would be more interesting: Romans, chapter 1 or two armored vehicles motoring down the road to break down the door of a drug lord.

Bible study was over.

When people began to arrive to church, they noticed some of the police vehicles still there. A few of the congregation members verbally expressed their concern by saying, "I wonder what Pastor Reid did? I knew it was only a matter of time - being American and all. We've seen the TV shows, C.O.P.S. Bad Boys, Bad Boys, watcha gonna do?"

It was an interesting night and after the cops left, before the service started, I surreptitiously retreated to my car to carry the case of beer to the ancient fridge. We had to plug the thing in the week before just so that it would be mildly chilled for Oktoberfest. This fridge is so old that the energy rating is negative, I think. But, at least the beer was kept tepid.

It was a great night of worship and fellowship. It made me think of Green Pastures. We have our own Special Weapons and Tactics team. Our weapons don't kill people but ideas like grace and forgiveness are weapons of mass reconstruction. For those that have been beaten down over the years or have been neglected by churches telling them that they are only good in so far as they can 'do something' Lockrose is a place of healing. The tactics we use, special, but not exclusive to Green Pastures, are welcoming and fellowship - finding a place to sit and sing, pray and eat, live and be merry. We toasted the night. We laughed about me verbalizing, "Excellent, we're going to roast a pig tonight," when, in fact, 'pig' is a derogatory term for 'policeman.'

I was wondering why they didn't come back for worship.

Oktoberfest was a moment in time when we realize that church is about relationships, being part of something bigger than our own individual identities, and enjoying life for a while. I guess that's what makes a S.W.A.T. church.

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