Preaching

Preaching is a tiring job. At this point in my maturity level, I seem to be good for one sermon a day. Yesterday the preacher at my church was not here and I had not preached recently so it was my turn as the youth minister. I am not trying to be a hot head or anything, but my morning sermon was really good and I had many comments on it. But afterwards, my mind felt blown. I was emotionally spent. I tried to get ready for the evening sermon and my mind was gone. My evening sermon was not good. ANd when I think back to it, probably the main reason is that it was not bathed in prayer as my morning sermon had been. I was also not very prepared for it. So my conclusion is this: From now on, only agree to one sermon a week so that there is time to prepare and pray for it. More than that with all of my other responsibilities is too much and it robs the congregation of what they could hear from someone else. Maybe there will come a day when I am able to handle more, but today is not it.

Sometimes the Human race is disappointing

Yesterday was a very frustrating day. It started out OK because Jen and I went fishing. She was fishing for Crappie and I was fishing for Bass. She caught a whole lot more than I did (around 10, we kept 7) and I caught one good size bass which was kind of exciting. Well, I have as of late decided to put my fish into a bucket of water because the last few times I have gone fishing, a snake has latched on to one of my fish. Anyway, so I put my bass in the bucket along with three of Jen's crappie. I walked off and continued fishing until a heard a dreadful noise. Thump...flap, flap, flap...splash! That's right, you guessed it, my big bass had escaped from the bucket and back into the water. That was pretty frustrating... but it was OK because Jen had caught some fish.

Jen and I headed home around 8 because it was getting too hot to do anymore fishing. So I was sitting there eating my breakfast when the doorbell rang. I get up and get the door expecting it to be someone from my church. It was not who I expected. It's the Sheriff. My heart suddenly leaps into my throat thinking of all the times I have accidentally, and only slightly purposefully broken the law.

Luckily, he was not there because I had broken the law, at least not in Oklahoma. He was there to serve me a court order and inform me that I was being sued.

Three and a half years ago, on December 30, 2002, I was heading back to OC and got caught in a blizzard in Limon, CO. A semi jack-knifed about a mile in front of me and stopped traffic. I was going about 30 miles per hour when I saw the break lights directly ahead of me. I began to pull my vehicle onto the shoulder trying to avoid hitting somebody. But a woman had parked her car there. Needless to say, I slammed on the breaks, but to no avail. I rear ended her and it was of course my fault. Luckily, the police officer did not give me a ticket because there were so many accidents that day.

For those of you who do not know (I did not know until yesterday), you cannot sue somebody for injuries in an automobile accident once three years have passed. This woman filed her suit on December 30, 2005, exactly three years after the accident. I was livid. I jumped around and yelled for a while until I realized that was not getting me anywhere. To make a long story short, I called my insurance company from the time of the accident and their lawyers are going to take care of it.

But this whole ordeal makes me disappointed in the human race. It is obvious that this woman was not seriously hurt in the accident. For one thing, they took me to Limon to call my parents. We were all checked over EMT's on an ambulance. There were no injuries to any of them. Plus, if they were actually injured seriously, they would have made a claim many months earlier than the last day to get anything out of it. Why are people like this? They use the extra long arm of our legal system to twist arms of people they will never have to be in the presence of.

The only thing that gives me peace in all of this is that God knows the truth. He knows whether they are actually injured in such a way that they do need monitary help or whether they are just misusing our legal system and trying to get something for nothing. God is the judge and I put it into his hands.

May 22nd on the mission trip

In the Warehouse

We arrived in Pascagoula last night. I was not sure what to expect on our way down. I thought we would be staying with church members. Where we were staying was quite a shock! The preacher called it a warehouse (I found out later that the reason it was called a warehouse is because a bunch of donations were stored in the rest of the building). It is a three room bulding with bunk beds and very dirty, probably from all the workers staying there.

Last night we also met one of the carpentars that we would be working with. I can't remember his name (it's James) but I do remember his story. He came down here 2 months ago, got attached to the place and is now living in the church building. He was hit by a truck while on the job and he is currently working with his lawyers to get workmans comp for all the time that he was not able to work and his current condition. He wants to stay and work for about three more years. He was also recently baptized and he asked the preacher why he had to put on a body bag (the baptismal clothes). Did I mention he was from Michigan? He has that nazily Michigan tone.

Also, when we arrived there was another group staying in the "warehouse" from Wichita Falls, Texas. They are leaving this morning and we will then have the one shower and two toilets to ourselves.