How it all began
6 years ago I fell for something. I was the last of my friends to get into it,and I was the only one to get entrenched by it. In 2004 the poker boom took off amidst an average nobody amateur poker player named Chris Moneymaker winning the World Series of Poker main event and 6 million dollars. Suddenly teenage boys and grown men everywhere were playing no limit Texas hold em' with their friends, thanks to the 'everyman' hitting it rich in Vegas. Sure poker had always been a staple in some way. You always see it being played in the old westerns and sitcoms spanning back to the 1950's. The game was usually five card stud back then. But with Moneymaker winning the title in 2004, no limit hold em took off due to the TV coverage,the Internet accessibility,and the casino prevalence.
I had a few friends who started playing friendly five dollar games on Friday nights at their houses. I never wanted to play because I didn't want to learn how. It seemed complicated and I thought I would just be donating five dollars to the cause. I finally learned that If I wanted to do something on weekends, I better join in.
The first time I played I didn't know what I was doing. I kept winning hands just playing stupid and getting lucky. I had a cheat sheet that showed me the ranks of the hands that I had to check almost every hand.
At some point in the next few months I started playing online and depositing money. It started as 20 bucks. I remember the first time I lost 50 dollars online I was devastated. I said I was not going to do it again but a few days later I put in another 50. Somewhere around the summer of 2005, I started turning a slight profit. I would cash out a couple hundred bucks and leave a few dollars in my account to try to build it up again. Over the course of the next few years, what started as twenty dollar games turned into 50,100,200,300,500,and 1000 respectfully.
I became obsessed with the game. It was a game of math and Psyche. I would study everything and anything I could; On TV, in books, atonline forums. I was a student of the game in every measure. I would go to the casinos and everyone else at the table would be socializing and I would just be staring at them and listening. I never said a word. Any little tidbit I could pick up was going to mean profit. And every little moment I let my guard down to fraternize with my competitors could lead to hundreds or thousands of dollars lost.
By September of 2006 I was making enough money to only work part time. I worked two overnights a week and played poker as my main source of income. I kept strict records of wins and losses and paid my taxes. It was a business to me. Many days I would sit at my computer for 16 to 20 hours without even eating. I would go to bed and do it again the next day. I was ranked in the top half of the top one percent of all online players for short handed sit and go's in the world. I would pay 500 dollars, play one other guy who also put up 500, and play until one of us got all the chips and the thousand dollars. These games would take about 10 to 20 minutes. Since we were playing the highest stakes on the site at the time, people would "rail bird" our games and try to chat with us. I remember one person telling me that I was their hero and they had been watching me play for weeks. On one site,within their online community, I was very well known for dominating the 200 to 500 dollar heads up sit and go's.
But I was masking many things behind that computer screen. I was sick and very unhealthy. My mind was one tracked and I would often torture myself over decisions that cost me large sums of money. I was in fact, numb to money. I was numb to winning.
But you never,ever become numb to losing. When I lost it would feel like an avalanche pouring down on my head. The thrill of winning never compared to the pain of losing. The turn of one card would often decide thousand dollar pots. I believed I was trapped in the game because being sick and all, it seemed like the only way to make a legitimate living. Years went by of being anti-social, distant ,and addicted to a game that in my own mind validated my worth. I knew I was good at it. Others knew I was good at it. I was finding the answers to my worthiness through this game. Today I know who I am through God.
How it all ended
I started feeling God tug at my coattails about this when my girlfriend broke up with me because of the poker lifestyle, in February 2009. To this day I believe that relationship was sent as God's way of saving my life. It wasn't meant to last, but the lessons learned were meant to change eternity.
Over the course of the next few months, I battled to quit, but never achieved true victory. In July of 2009, I had an afternoon which went like this. Around noon I sat down at a table with 3000 dollars. By 3pm I had ran it up to over 14,000 dollars. By six pm, all 14,000 was gone. Between your lunch and your dinner, I had won and lost enough money to buy a brand new car. This was my tipping point. I knew I had to quit. And I knew God's grace was the only chance I had at achieving that goal. What I got a few months later was more then grace. It was a miracle.
The Miracle from Jesus
I was still gambling in September, when a friend of mine from work named Billy had became extremely distraught about a breakup between him and his longtime girlfriend. I remember he was very upset and one night was texting me that he didn't see any way out of the darkness. I felt God telling me to text him about God's love. It was very, very awkward because I had never spoken to him about God at all and I was coming out of left field with it. But I text him something along the lines of "There is hope with God" and he text me back " I can't see hope in anything right now, but thanks for trying." At least the ice had been broken and God's hand had began writing the script that would save both me and Billy's lives.
A few weeks later was a night I will never forget. Things hadn't gotten any better for Billy. It was a Thursday night and my phone rang. It was Billy. I was gambling online and when I gambled online I rarely would pick up the phone. So I ignored the call and didn't think of it again..... Until the next day.
I got a phone call from another co-worker saying Billy was missing. To make a long story short, he ended up ingesting a massive amount of pills and alcohol that night in a suicide attempt. With the amount he took, for all intensive purposes, he should have died.
When I got wind of this I was shook to the core. A few weeks later when I saw him I asked him why he called me that night. We hadn't been particularly close at that point and for a few weeks I wondered If it was possible he was crying out for help to me for some reason. He told me that he didn't know why he had called me and that I was indeed the last person he thinks he tried to call. It bowled me over and instantly made complete and utter sense what God was doing.
He was using my gambling and the selfishness it had led to,to wake me up. I had laid the foundation in a struggling man's life of the love of God, and when the same man reached out to me only weeks later, I ignored him for poker. Sure I had no way of knowing that at the time. But God knew I wouldn't know until I needed to know. God knew exactly what he was doing moment by moment leading up to that night.
I confessed to Billy that I ignored his call that night because I was in a poker trance. I told him how guilty I feel and how guilty I would have felt had he died and I was the last person he had tried to, and unsuccessfully contact. As I apologized to him I knew what had to be done. A few days later I quit gambling.
And on the 40th day.....
When the previously mentioned ex girlfriend broke up with me she asked me if I would quit playing poker for 40 days and see what God would show me. I snickered at the notion when she told me this. But eight months later on the 40th day of not gambling there was a small electrical fire at the group home where me and Billy worked. When the smoke alarms went off one of the clients, who usually will get up and go on command, decided that she wanted to stay in bed. So she layed in bed as the fire was put out. The overnight was usually a one staff operation and had it been a bigger fire there would have been no way to get the client out with just one person. So management decided for the next month to have 2 staff on the overnights to carry her out in case of a fire. Why they did this only for a month and why not permanently I'll never know. Well actually yes I do know. It was all God.
During that month, Billy and I worked together many times on the overnight. Just me and him. We got time together to talk and God gave me words to say to him. He allowed me to tell him the way to heaven, which is acceptance of Jesus Christ as his saviour. I had been giving a laminated print out of the Roman's Road, from a Pastor that I sought out a few months before to help me stop gambling. The Roman's road is a point by point biblical reference of why we have fallen short of heaven without Jesus, and how simple the prayer is to gain eternal glory's access. One night on the overnight I gave Billy the print out and asked him if he was ready to pray Jesus into his heart and seal his destiny. He wasn't at that particular time but said he would take it home with him. I joked that If he didn't pray it soon I was going to be extremely mad at him. He joked back that it sounded like I might blow up his car.
The next day I woke up to the most significant text message I have ever received. It simply said " I prayed it. Don't blow up my car." The man who should have been dead without ever knowing God in September, was now alive and forever stamped in the book of life in November.
God's stories are perfect. This story is perfect. He needed my attention. He needed me to stop gambling because he had things he needed me to do. His timing was perfect. He wasn't going to let Billy die that night. He knew I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. And he knew Billy was meant to be a child of his. Only God can tie this type of story together. "Quit for 40 days and see what God will do." Satan is the only one snickering now.
Since he got saved Billy has been baptized and recently married the love of his life, whom he had been so broken hearted about losing last year. She is also a born again christian. Another example of God working. That relationship had to end temporarily, so that Billy and I could be saved.
The Sovereignty of December 1st
You may have figured out by now that these stories of quitting occurred between September and November and you may be wondering what makes December 1st the one year anniversary. Well I slipped up after 2 months and played once on December 1st, 2009, online. On that day I took my computer and plucked it out per say. I brought it to my sisters and told her I don't want a computer in my house anymore.
Last night on the eve of my one year anniversary I decided I wanted my computer back (without Internet), so I could type out my blogs and save them to flash drive. I was setting my computer up a little before midnight and it wouldn't work. So I pulled down an old shoebox from the top of my fridge to try to look for the re-boot disc. In a shoebox full of papers, the first thing I saw and grabbed was a small envelope. I pulled out what was inside and it was a sheet of paper torn in 3 pieces. Those 3 pieces of paper were my certificate of water baptism at my church in 2008. It had my name on it and a seal of approval with the date and a scripture verse. It's funny because In the Romans Road it says that after you get saved you should do 2 things. 1) Tell a friend. 2) Get water baptized. Billy told me he was saved, and got water baptized a few months later..... All the while I had no recollection that I had destroyed my symbol of water baptism over a poker game.
I realized as I pulled out the 3 sheets of ripped paper that I had torn it off my wall and ripped it up after an online poker loss a year or two ago. I decided to tape it back together and as I finished taping it, it hit me. I grabbed my phone to look at the time and it read, December 1st,2010: 12:05am. The time between finding it and taping it back together took about 5 minutes.
At exactly midnight on the one year anniversary of obeying God and giving up gambling, the Lord helped me find the remnants of a night of gamblings angst; and put it back together. All while trying to hook up a computer that I yanked out as a symbol of hope a year ago. Three pieces of paper torn; The Father,The Son, and The Holy Spirit. I had ripped them apart and made something else my God. And now they hang on my wall as one again. I knew that was a gift from God in that moment. His way of saying "One year Joe. One year. Do you see now how much I love you? I couldn't even wait one minute past midnight to say Happy Birthday to you. I am so proud of you." All I know is this; When God says I am proud of you so profoundly, it is a slice of heaven on earth.
For non-believers it is so easy to say that there is no proof of God and that they just can't wrap their heads around something that isn't tangible. I don't know why God has blessed me so much to ensure that I can't doubt his existence,but I am thankful. Some may think my stories and the stories above are coincidence. But knowing what God has done and how real he has shown himself to me causes me to implore any unsaved who are reading this to believe me. This is not coincidence. We are not coincidence. There are so many ways to die, but there is only one way to live after we die. Jesus is the only way to heaven. If you want to join me and Billy one day with the Lord, please pray this prayer. It's no strings attached, and it doesn't require an audience. It's not religion. Does the love I describe above sound like ritual or does it sound like love?
A year later I am a free man. I have seen 7 people come to Christ. I want 8. Satan tried to devour me through gambling and sickness. God had other plan's. Pray this prayer from the Roman's road and check out the link. I wouldn't want to have to blow up your car.....
I want to thank Jim Carpenter,Dan Wallace,my Sister,my Brother and my Mother for helping me thru the gambling years and believing I could do this the past year. I'll never forget non-chalantly showing off and blowing a hundred dollars on one spin of a roulette wheel when Jim came to visit me at the casino once and me saying " Ah well" and him quipping back, " Next time just hand it to me. My kids need clothes."
And all my mom's words of hope that I would quit one day, even as I was setting up her 600 dollar, 32 inch TV as her Christmas gift one year. I couldn't have gotten thru it without you five guys love. Here is that Roman's prayer..a link to a great song of hope and a picture of part of the taped together certificate from last night. God Bless.
"Dear God, I confess that I am a sinner, and I am sorry. I need
a Savior. I know I cannot save myself. I believe by faith that Jesus, your
Son, died on the cross to be my Savior. I believe He arose from the grave
to live as my Lord. I turn from my sin. I ask You, Lord Jesus, to forgive my
sin and come into my heart. I trust you as my Savior and receive you as
my Lord. Thank you, Jesus, for saving me."
Link to full Roman's Road page : http://theromanroad.org/
Link to a beautiful song of hope. I think the link only opens in full screen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYW3eT0RZ9Y&feature=related
Taped together Scripture on certificate of water baptism: https://mail.google.com/mail/?ui=2&ik=743296c1e7&view=att&th=12ca3fc85ef80388&attid=0.0&disp=inline&zw
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The Night I Turned Cliff Lee's Career Around and He Paid My Rent.
Through my 3 or 4 years of playing poker for a living I ran across a few professional and collegiate athletes at my table. Tim Connolly of the Buffalo Sabres once tried goofy talking me into making a bad raise into his preflop pocket kings. I once bluffed Fred Jackson, running back for the Buffalo Bills, out of a pot of about a thousand dollars. And Paul Harris once told me, as he played his hands without looking at his cards with no regard for money, that he was going to graduate from Syracuse because he promised his Grandma he would. A year later he was opting out of his senior year and entering the NBA draft. But one of the favorite stories of my days at a poker table, or any table for that matter,is the night I spent sitting next to Cliff Lee. While he was mired in obscurity in the minor leagues playing for Buffalo, the farm team of the Cleveland Indians, he would come to the casino and play cards on free nights. It was the summer of 2007, and little did I know I was playing cards and chit chatting with a man that less then 3 years later would one of the top 3 pitchers on earth.
Somewhere around 7pm that nite, a young ,athletic looking man sat down in the seat to my right. He wore a watch that was almost as big as a baseball. He started chatting it up with the table and somebody asked him what he did for a living. The man stated he played professional baseball. The same man asked what his name was. “Cliff Lee”, he said. Then came the sound of crickets, as noone had ever heard of him except me. A few seconds later I said , “ I know you! You were on my fantasy team last year. You stunk so much I had to release you .” Cliff Lee and the whole table laughed and Cliff declared, “Ya I still stink.”
As we continued to sit next to each other we started on a private conversation. I asked him what went wrong that he was pitching in the minors after a pretty good year in the majors a few years back. He told me that the problems started a few weeks back. He was the 4th or 5th starter on the Indians roster and was the starting pitcher on Sammy Sosa night in Texas. “ I hit Sammy Sosa in the head on Sammy Sosa night and he had to leave the game,” Lee non-chalantly explained to me. “What?”, I said. “Ya, then me and Victor Martinez (Indians all star catcher at the time), got into a fist fight in the dugout. He was mad and said I threw at him on purpose.” “Did you?”, I asked. “Ya he was crowding my plate so I nailed him.” I laughed as he told me this story straight faced. “So wait you hit Sosa on Sosa night and fought your catcher, and then got sent to the minors?”. “ Ya. But also I can’t get anyone out ,and Laffey (Indians 5th starter at the time) was pitching decent and not fighting his own catcher, so they sent me down.” The man was brutally honest about his short-comings the last few years on the mound. And every few minutes as we sat next to each other that night I turned to him laughing ,saying “Really man,,,... On Sammy Sosa Night?!!?”
Here is how one newspaper detailed the night Lee hit Sosa. Notice how Lee didn't admit he hit him on purpose. Maybe I am the only one he told the truth to?
"The argument escalated in the third inning when Lee hit Sammy Sosa in the head with a fastball. Sosa, honored before the game by a large delegation of family, friends and politicians from the Dominican Republic for hitting his 600th homer June 20, had to leave the game.
Lee said he had no intention of hitting Sosa, especially in the head. Martinez reportedly was upset for Lee's lack of remorse. He felt he should have at least come to the plate to see how Sosa was doing."
So as the night went on we kept talking. About his family and life on the road. He told me how much he missed his kids and how hard it was to be away from them. Every few hands he stepped away from the table to use his cell phone. I asked him why his watch was the size of a small country? He asked me If I knew anywhere good to eat in this casino. “The hot dogs are nasty, stay away from the hot dogs.That’s all I know” He thanked me for the advice.
At some point in the night I felt there was an opening to actually give him a little pep talk. The way he talked about his career that night was with a big question mark and a humility that bordered on giving off a vibe that he might be ready to call it quits. Between his being away from home and not being sure if he was ever going to get back to the big leagues, I found Cliff Lee at a poker table that night with an obvious amount of self doubt for himself. As we got talking I remember apologizing for releasing him from my fantasy team. He laughed and said “ I would have released me too."
It was right around this point that I did indeed decide to give Cliff Lee a pep talk. I told him in so many terms, “ Listen, hang in there, You are a lefty,which is a valuable commodity. You are still young and you know you have great stuff. Just keep pitching hard and I know you will find yourself back in the show someday.” “Thanks man. I hope so.”
Three years later, Cliff Lee is not only back in the majors, but he has amassed the best postseason numbers to start a career of all time. Three years later Cliff Lee is arguably the best pitcher on the planet. Last night he became the 2nd postseason pitcher of all time to record 10 strikeouts in 3 postseason starts in the same season. He is 7 and 0 to start his playoff career with an Era in the low 1's. He is 55 and 25 since that night with an era in the low 3's.
That night I played a big hand one on one with Cliff Lee. I had pocket kings ( the 2nd best starting hand possible in poker),and he had a pair of sixes in the hole. We were isolated in the hand ,and on the flop came a 6, blank blank board. My kings looked good to me. He bet, I raised, he re-raised. I went into the think tank and after a few seconds decided my Kings might be good and I was going to put my last 3 or 4 hundred into the pot . (Really a bad read by me all things considered)
It was then that Cliff Lee did something I have never seen anyone do at a poker table before. He turned his sixes over and showed me what he had. (He had an unbeatable set of sixes.) He said to me “ Save your money kid , I got you crushed.” This minor league baseball pitcher decided to spare me a ton of money, in a kind act of humanity. I said “Thanks a lot Cliff Lee, you saved me a ton.” The whole table was stunned that he spared me. Cliff Lee just went on with his business. I wonder if he had mercy on me because he was flattered that not only did I know who he was ,but I believed in his future.
When he left the table around midnight he made a point to shake all ten people at the table’s hands. He made his way out , and I never saw him again. As I watched him ascend the next few years into one of the most savvy and talented pitchers in the major’s , I have always glowed at his successes as if he was a special friend of mine.
Did my pep talk that night turn around his floundering career and bring his wayward mind back to a place of hope and belief? I don’t think so. But your dog gone right until he refutes it, I am forever going to jokingly gloat that I turned Cliff Lee into the monster he is today. And through his selfless kindness in that one hand, I can also tell people “ Hey did I tell you about the time Cliff Lee paid my rent for me ? "
Yankee fans everywhere can blame me for this today if they want to. And they can also thank me in November when he puts on the pinstripes.
Somewhere around 7pm that nite, a young ,athletic looking man sat down in the seat to my right. He wore a watch that was almost as big as a baseball. He started chatting it up with the table and somebody asked him what he did for a living. The man stated he played professional baseball. The same man asked what his name was. “Cliff Lee”, he said. Then came the sound of crickets, as noone had ever heard of him except me. A few seconds later I said , “ I know you! You were on my fantasy team last year. You stunk so much I had to release you .” Cliff Lee and the whole table laughed and Cliff declared, “Ya I still stink.”
As we continued to sit next to each other we started on a private conversation. I asked him what went wrong that he was pitching in the minors after a pretty good year in the majors a few years back. He told me that the problems started a few weeks back. He was the 4th or 5th starter on the Indians roster and was the starting pitcher on Sammy Sosa night in Texas. “ I hit Sammy Sosa in the head on Sammy Sosa night and he had to leave the game,” Lee non-chalantly explained to me. “What?”, I said. “Ya, then me and Victor Martinez (Indians all star catcher at the time), got into a fist fight in the dugout. He was mad and said I threw at him on purpose.” “Did you?”, I asked. “Ya he was crowding my plate so I nailed him.” I laughed as he told me this story straight faced. “So wait you hit Sosa on Sosa night and fought your catcher, and then got sent to the minors?”. “ Ya. But also I can’t get anyone out ,and Laffey (Indians 5th starter at the time) was pitching decent and not fighting his own catcher, so they sent me down.” The man was brutally honest about his short-comings the last few years on the mound. And every few minutes as we sat next to each other that night I turned to him laughing ,saying “Really man,,,... On Sammy Sosa Night?!!?”
Here is how one newspaper detailed the night Lee hit Sosa. Notice how Lee didn't admit he hit him on purpose. Maybe I am the only one he told the truth to?
"The argument escalated in the third inning when Lee hit Sammy Sosa in the head with a fastball. Sosa, honored before the game by a large delegation of family, friends and politicians from the Dominican Republic for hitting his 600th homer June 20, had to leave the game.
Lee said he had no intention of hitting Sosa, especially in the head. Martinez reportedly was upset for Lee's lack of remorse. He felt he should have at least come to the plate to see how Sosa was doing."
So as the night went on we kept talking. About his family and life on the road. He told me how much he missed his kids and how hard it was to be away from them. Every few hands he stepped away from the table to use his cell phone. I asked him why his watch was the size of a small country? He asked me If I knew anywhere good to eat in this casino. “The hot dogs are nasty, stay away from the hot dogs.That’s all I know” He thanked me for the advice.
At some point in the night I felt there was an opening to actually give him a little pep talk. The way he talked about his career that night was with a big question mark and a humility that bordered on giving off a vibe that he might be ready to call it quits. Between his being away from home and not being sure if he was ever going to get back to the big leagues, I found Cliff Lee at a poker table that night with an obvious amount of self doubt for himself. As we got talking I remember apologizing for releasing him from my fantasy team. He laughed and said “ I would have released me too."
It was right around this point that I did indeed decide to give Cliff Lee a pep talk. I told him in so many terms, “ Listen, hang in there, You are a lefty,which is a valuable commodity. You are still young and you know you have great stuff. Just keep pitching hard and I know you will find yourself back in the show someday.” “Thanks man. I hope so.”
Three years later, Cliff Lee is not only back in the majors, but he has amassed the best postseason numbers to start a career of all time. Three years later Cliff Lee is arguably the best pitcher on the planet. Last night he became the 2nd postseason pitcher of all time to record 10 strikeouts in 3 postseason starts in the same season. He is 7 and 0 to start his playoff career with an Era in the low 1's. He is 55 and 25 since that night with an era in the low 3's.
That night I played a big hand one on one with Cliff Lee. I had pocket kings ( the 2nd best starting hand possible in poker),and he had a pair of sixes in the hole. We were isolated in the hand ,and on the flop came a 6, blank blank board. My kings looked good to me. He bet, I raised, he re-raised. I went into the think tank and after a few seconds decided my Kings might be good and I was going to put my last 3 or 4 hundred into the pot . (Really a bad read by me all things considered)
It was then that Cliff Lee did something I have never seen anyone do at a poker table before. He turned his sixes over and showed me what he had. (He had an unbeatable set of sixes.) He said to me “ Save your money kid , I got you crushed.” This minor league baseball pitcher decided to spare me a ton of money, in a kind act of humanity. I said “Thanks a lot Cliff Lee, you saved me a ton.” The whole table was stunned that he spared me. Cliff Lee just went on with his business. I wonder if he had mercy on me because he was flattered that not only did I know who he was ,but I believed in his future.
When he left the table around midnight he made a point to shake all ten people at the table’s hands. He made his way out , and I never saw him again. As I watched him ascend the next few years into one of the most savvy and talented pitchers in the major’s , I have always glowed at his successes as if he was a special friend of mine.
Did my pep talk that night turn around his floundering career and bring his wayward mind back to a place of hope and belief? I don’t think so. But your dog gone right until he refutes it, I am forever going to jokingly gloat that I turned Cliff Lee into the monster he is today. And through his selfless kindness in that one hand, I can also tell people “ Hey did I tell you about the time Cliff Lee paid my rent for me ? "
Yankee fans everywhere can blame me for this today if they want to. And they can also thank me in November when he puts on the pinstripes.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Pastor Albert Gerhardt
I recently took a course through my now former employer entitled, "Crucial Conversations." It was a class designed to get you ready for the important conversations that will arise in your day to day life. The most striking fact I recall from the 10 or so hours of this class was that 93 percent of what we take out of human interaction is not the actual conversational quotes. That means that only 7 percent of what we take away from an exchange, albeit social, casual, or professional, is the actual quotable dialogue. We remember tone, intent, body language,and unspoken vibe.
True to this statistic, my pastor from 1989 to 2004, Al Gerhardt, left his mark in my life mostly based on his actions and the way he carried himself. Probably the most prevalent quote I can recall of him is his enthusiastic "Hey Joe" when he saw me. I can't really reiterate all the profound or exact words of hope he spoke to me over the course of 15 years. I only recall bits and pieces. What I remember so clearly however is the lessons learned from observing his conduct, kindness, and intense love for Jesus Christ.
He was gentle with me at times and firm in tough love at other times. But the common denominator was his portrayal of Christ's love. I feel unworthy of even writing about him, as I know there are hundreds of others who were closer to him than me. The following are a few memories and thoughts from observation and direct contact with the man most of us so eloquently referred to as "Pastor Al."
My memory of Al Gerhardt passes through two different eras of my life, as well as two very different perspective's of him; One perspective falsely concocted and one dead on accurate. The first 10 years or so I knew him were based off of reverence that I doubled as intimidation. The last couple years were merely based from excitement and appreciation just knowing the man.
"Here He Comes. He Can See Right Through Me. I Better Go the Other Way."
As a young child and right through my teenage years, I was scared of him. It was a self created fear. He was the face of God in my life, and quite frankly I was not sure how I felt about God, or how God felt about me. I didn't fear Pastor Al because of anything he did or said, but I was intimidated by what he represented.
In Mitch Albom's "Have A Little Faith",Albom describes his childhood Rabbi as someone that was a figurehead that embedded fear and quivering inside of him. It was only later in his life that he got to know him as a man first and a Rabbi second.
I could relate to Albom's portrayal because that was much the same timeline I had with Pastor Al. I swore he must have been able to see all the sins I had committed when he looked at me. Of course my imagination was erroneous looking back now. But all I saw back then was God when I saw Al. It's funny because later in his life I still saw the exact same thing in him, only my emotion changed from fear to peace. I think I had trouble relating to him in my youth because of the following fact: If I hadn't made friends with God yet, how would I make friends with the human face of God in my life.
His First Gift to Me
Somewhere around 1990, I received my first gift from Pastor Al. It was in the form of a Christian sports magazine called "Sports Spectrum." He sent it in the mail to me knowing my love for sports as a 10 year old child. These magazines would come with stories of Christian athletes and their fierce faith. They spoke life into me at a very young age and commanded my attention because they were a gift from the most Godly man I knew. Often times the subject of the magazine surprised me, leaving me saying "He is a Christian?” about the athlete on the cover. Magazine after magazine came in every month, Pastor Al renewing my subscription every year.......for six years.
His Sunday Morning Ambiance
I remember on most Sunday mornings, shortly after worship would start, Al would stroll into the sanctuary with his Bible under his arm. Did he come in alone and late in hopes of making a symbolic grand entrance? Hardly. I remember hearing once that he usually would walk in late because he put so much stock in prayer that he would pray for the service in a back room until he heard the worship music begin.
I remember he would usually turn around at some point during worship to see who was in attendance. The look on his face as he scanned the room could best be described as auspicious. I would describe it as an appreciative and humbled awe at what the Lord had entrusted him with. He always let the Holy Spirit move in his services,but also was always sure to bring some sort of word from The Bible even during mornings of spirit led revival.
Studying the Man's Unspoken Nuances
When I was a teenager I loved watching him conduct himself. I remember thinking to myself over the years, "Does his hair ever move?" and "What size shoes is that?"
I spoke in church this past May about overcoming my addiction to poker. Before I went up I knew I wanted to somehow mention Pastor Al's name and give him props. So I decided I would play Al's " Your testimony is going too long, how can I tell you this without getting up and grabbing the microphone" card.
I remember Sunday mornings where people would go up to the altar and give testimony about what the Lord was doing in their life. Al would sometimes mention the importance of brevity, but a lot of times that notion fell on deaf ears. I always had a timer in my head as people shared and tried to guess when Al would start squirming. I was pretty good at hitting the nail on the head in this category. I never wanted it to come to that but once it did I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. He would uncross his leg and switch over to the other leg, look at his watch repeatedly, and do a fake cough routine. Anything to get the person's attention and let them know, “Hey I got a tee time at 2 o' clock." Sometimes the speaker would get the unspoken vibe and other times not. But I loved the fact he was so human and to me at least, so funny about it.
So in May, after about five minutes of giving my testimony I decided it was time to deliver the Pastor Al line. I said to the congregation of which maybe less then half actually had known him, “I have to wrap this up now. I can hear Pastor Al doing his fake cough in my mind." I loved the fact I could acknowledge the person who made it possible for everyone in that room to be there. I loved that I got to drop his name in front of a full room....I loved that people were thinking of him and laughing.
“I Have to Mow his Lawn? What if I Miss a Blade?"
In the summer of 1994, I was 14 years old and my family found itself living in the same apartment complex as Pastor Al. He occasionally would pick me up and take me to church on a Wednesday night for revival meetings. During the 6 years we lived in the same complex, I was often volunteered by my Mom to mow his lawn. He had a small yard and a manual, non-engined mower.
The job literally took me about 10 minutes to do. I remember on one particular hot day, looking over as I was rolling the mower and seeing him standing at the sliding glass door. In my mind I was panicked and sure he was scrutinizing my work. I probably started mowing nervously in crooked lines as he stood there. After a few seconds of watching, he opened the door and said to me, “Don’t forget to come in for iced tea when you're done."...... The face of God had spoken. And strangely enough, he was more concerned about my well-being then his grasses cosmetics.
July 31, 1996
I don't know how I remember the date, I just do. My best friend Jim Carpenter and I were known for our petty, girlish fights. We would argue about the dumbest things as if they were life or death, then not speak for awhile afterwards. During this particular time period we hadn't talked in the longest amount of time we had ever gone. My mom set us up to get us back together. He came over to my house on this summer day and asked me if I wanted to go golfing. We set out to Webster golf course to play a round.
I remember we were still angry at each other and were bickering quite a bit still.As we headed towards one particular hole we saw Pastor Al up ahead of us, pulling his clubs with a hand cart golfing alone.We debated for a few moments whether we should go up to him and converse. I remember thinking," If he asks us to join,we won't be able to curse after a bad shot the rest of the day; and worst of all Jim are I are going to have to pretend that we don't hate each other right now."
We decided to hurry along and catch up to him to say "hi". He asked us if we would like to join him and we did. It was not long, before Pastor Al was displeased with one of his shots and started talking to himself. - "Al, You have got to be kidding me. What were you thinking? You are playing terrible golf."
Throughout the day he berated himself as such after a 'bad' shot. Jim and I laughed about it afterwards because we were so worried about not being able to beat ourselves up while golfing with the pastor, and it turned out he did enough self-scolding for all three of us. He must have beaten us each by 20 strokes and also through pastoral osmosis, Jim and I were getting along great.
Always There at the Lowest Points
When I was 17 years old I became plagued with a difficult digestive disease that left me bed ridden many a time. Over the next 5 years my mom would call Pastor Al on my most dire nights to ask for prayer. He would often head right over to my house and pray with me. Sometimes he would come alone and other times he would bring the elders with him.
One time in particular I was more depressed than sick. He came over and sat with me one on one in the living room. I lived in the basement of my parents house and I remember being so sick and depressed that I wouldn't come up for days.
I remember when I came upstairs on this day that the sun piercing through the blinds had made my vision distorted. I must have not seen the sun in weeks. I slept during the day and stayed up all night. I remember before I could even adjust my eyes to the light Pastor Al was speaking life into me. I don't remember exact words but the gist was “Do you believe God has something better planned for you? Do you believe he is able to save you from death?"
I want to say that the man always knew exactly what to say, but the fact I don't have a lot of direct quotes on him specifically makes me more apt to say this; the man always knew how to love you.
Goodbye Intimidation
There was about a 5 year span where I was very sick, and it was only towards the end of my sickness that my childhood intimidation of him ceased. I worked at a deli in Webster where he shopped and sadly enough, I remember sometimes I would see him coming around the bend and I would hide in the back room. I figured I had nothing good or Godly to report to him, so what would I talk about?
It was towards the end of that period of time that I stopped hiding in the back room and started embracing him. I recall on more than one occasion asking my boss if I could take my break and going up to the diner to have coffee with Al. The man I had so hastily and erroneously labeled as overwhelmingly intimidating,was suddenly my friend.
His Second Gift to Me
I ended up being hospitalized a few times and the first one to join me there after my immediate family was always Pastor Al.
In 2001 I had a bad reaction to a drug and had a temperature of over 107 degrees, ending up in the intensive care unit of Genesee Hospital. He came down to pray with me in the unit and the next Sunday I gave testimony of how God saved my life.
Al prayed for me after my testimony and I still have the audio tape, one that I played last week for the first time in many years in preparation for writing this piece. It was my first time hearing his voice in so long and is my only documented audio of him.
He spoke words over me that 9 years later mean more than they ever have. He said “Joe, the Lord is asking you, do you love me? And you are saying 'Yes Lord, I love you.' And The Lord is saying to you “I love you Joe. Never have any doubt in your mind that I love you. I have always loved you. And I want to take you out of this place of sickness. But it's all contingent on you walking out this love relationship with me."
He went on to talk about how God promises to take me out of this wilderness of illness if I only will allow him to and trust him. As I listened to it recently I couldn't help but get teary-eyed. His voice was so gentle, and his passion so evident. It's fitting that the only documented audio I have of Pastor Al is him speaking in the role of Jesus.
His Third Gift to Me
Sometime during the years of illness, Pastor Al brought me a handkerchief. He told me that it was representative of the hem of Jesus’ garment as documented in the Bible. He said when I feel alone and overcome by illness I could hold onto it as if I was holding onto Jesus himself. As I write this, I am familiarizing myself with the story behind the garment in the Bible.
The story goes that a woman had had an issue of bleeding for 12 years. As the masses tried to get Jesus attention as he walked through the village, the woman reached out and touched the hem of his garment and was immediately healed. I am just realizing now that it has been 12 plus years for me dealing with a disease whose first symptom was loss of blood. I only last week, not having yet familiarized myself with the story of the woman in the Bible, heard God tell me to proclaim that I am healed of all digestive disease.(Five months after I wrote this I was indeed healed of Crohn's Disease, as a doctor told me he couldn't find a trace of it every existing in my body. Hallelujah.)
Looking back perhaps the handkerchief was a prophetic gift. I always held that handkerchief near and dear to my heart not only because it was a gift from Al, but it represented my hope in one day being healed. Sometime after he died I lost the handkerchief. I remember searching deep and wide for it many a time. To this day if I could find just one thing I ever lost it would be that handkerchief.
His Final Gift to Me
In June of 2004 Al Gerhardt passed away from complications of cancer. The sanctuary was so packed with people for his funeral that the church streamed the service on closed circuit television into another room in the church. As some of his grandson's carried out his casket, there was not a dry eye in the building.
A year or two after his death my mom had mentioned to his daughter, Joy, that I was having trouble seeing small print due to the years of steroid use affecting my vision. Joy asked her if I wanted a bible that had large print. It was a Bible Pastor Al had bought later in his life because of the larger print being easier to see. Joy gave my mom the Bible to give to me. I can't express my gratitude to be able to own one of the last Bibles that this ultimate man of God had owned.
In this Bible there is only one spot where he had hand written in it. It is written in pencil, with two verses in it at the bottom of Ephesians 2. Ephesians 2:8 and Isaiah 65:1, and they are as follows. Ephesians 2:8- "For by grace you have been saved through faith and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God." Isaiah 65:1 - “I was sought by those who did not ask for me; I was found by those who did not seek me. I said 'Here I am, here I am,' to a nation that was not called by my name."
Both verses are representative of how unworthy we are of God and how his grace is so precious. How appropriate that in the last years of his life, in perhaps the last Bible he ever owned in perhaps the last markings he ever documented in a Bible, his notes were in regards to how humble we should feel to be receiving God's grace. It is so fitting because when I had finally got past my false image of intimidation, what I found most in Pastor Al was a humble and thankful Christian.
I mentioned earlier that he used to get antsy when testimonies would drag on Sunday mornings and joked about him being late for his tee time. I think its important to point out he wasn't trying to move things along for his own reasons, but he was just always cognizant of keeping things in the realm of the Holy Spirit’s flow for the service. As I mentioned above, he was humbled by what God had given him and always aware of God's presence.
In writing this, I was thinking about when we get to heaven and if we get to request to be able to see and spend time catching up with certain people that have had an impact on our lives on this earth. If this is how it happens I have a feeling Al Gerhardt doesn't get many periods up there where he is not "looked up." The people whose lives he had an impact on are countless,as is I am sure are the amount of people he led to Christ that want to thank him for the glory that has been revealed through his outreaching.
I know when I get there he will be on the top of my list of people to look up. What will I do when I see him? Maybe just give him a gentle hug and a whisper of "Thank you." I will try to keep it brief, but who am I kidding, no I wont.
I guess I'll find out quickly if there are wrist watches and fake coughs in heaven.
True to this statistic, my pastor from 1989 to 2004, Al Gerhardt, left his mark in my life mostly based on his actions and the way he carried himself. Probably the most prevalent quote I can recall of him is his enthusiastic "Hey Joe" when he saw me. I can't really reiterate all the profound or exact words of hope he spoke to me over the course of 15 years. I only recall bits and pieces. What I remember so clearly however is the lessons learned from observing his conduct, kindness, and intense love for Jesus Christ.
He was gentle with me at times and firm in tough love at other times. But the common denominator was his portrayal of Christ's love. I feel unworthy of even writing about him, as I know there are hundreds of others who were closer to him than me. The following are a few memories and thoughts from observation and direct contact with the man most of us so eloquently referred to as "Pastor Al."
My memory of Al Gerhardt passes through two different eras of my life, as well as two very different perspective's of him; One perspective falsely concocted and one dead on accurate. The first 10 years or so I knew him were based off of reverence that I doubled as intimidation. The last couple years were merely based from excitement and appreciation just knowing the man.
"Here He Comes. He Can See Right Through Me. I Better Go the Other Way."
As a young child and right through my teenage years, I was scared of him. It was a self created fear. He was the face of God in my life, and quite frankly I was not sure how I felt about God, or how God felt about me. I didn't fear Pastor Al because of anything he did or said, but I was intimidated by what he represented.
In Mitch Albom's "Have A Little Faith",Albom describes his childhood Rabbi as someone that was a figurehead that embedded fear and quivering inside of him. It was only later in his life that he got to know him as a man first and a Rabbi second.
I could relate to Albom's portrayal because that was much the same timeline I had with Pastor Al. I swore he must have been able to see all the sins I had committed when he looked at me. Of course my imagination was erroneous looking back now. But all I saw back then was God when I saw Al. It's funny because later in his life I still saw the exact same thing in him, only my emotion changed from fear to peace. I think I had trouble relating to him in my youth because of the following fact: If I hadn't made friends with God yet, how would I make friends with the human face of God in my life.
His First Gift to Me
Somewhere around 1990, I received my first gift from Pastor Al. It was in the form of a Christian sports magazine called "Sports Spectrum." He sent it in the mail to me knowing my love for sports as a 10 year old child. These magazines would come with stories of Christian athletes and their fierce faith. They spoke life into me at a very young age and commanded my attention because they were a gift from the most Godly man I knew. Often times the subject of the magazine surprised me, leaving me saying "He is a Christian?” about the athlete on the cover. Magazine after magazine came in every month, Pastor Al renewing my subscription every year.......for six years.
His Sunday Morning Ambiance
I remember on most Sunday mornings, shortly after worship would start, Al would stroll into the sanctuary with his Bible under his arm. Did he come in alone and late in hopes of making a symbolic grand entrance? Hardly. I remember hearing once that he usually would walk in late because he put so much stock in prayer that he would pray for the service in a back room until he heard the worship music begin.
I remember he would usually turn around at some point during worship to see who was in attendance. The look on his face as he scanned the room could best be described as auspicious. I would describe it as an appreciative and humbled awe at what the Lord had entrusted him with. He always let the Holy Spirit move in his services,but also was always sure to bring some sort of word from The Bible even during mornings of spirit led revival.
Studying the Man's Unspoken Nuances
When I was a teenager I loved watching him conduct himself. I remember thinking to myself over the years, "Does his hair ever move?" and "What size shoes is that?"
I spoke in church this past May about overcoming my addiction to poker. Before I went up I knew I wanted to somehow mention Pastor Al's name and give him props. So I decided I would play Al's " Your testimony is going too long, how can I tell you this without getting up and grabbing the microphone" card.
I remember Sunday mornings where people would go up to the altar and give testimony about what the Lord was doing in their life. Al would sometimes mention the importance of brevity, but a lot of times that notion fell on deaf ears. I always had a timer in my head as people shared and tried to guess when Al would start squirming. I was pretty good at hitting the nail on the head in this category. I never wanted it to come to that but once it did I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. He would uncross his leg and switch over to the other leg, look at his watch repeatedly, and do a fake cough routine. Anything to get the person's attention and let them know, “Hey I got a tee time at 2 o' clock." Sometimes the speaker would get the unspoken vibe and other times not. But I loved the fact he was so human and to me at least, so funny about it.
So in May, after about five minutes of giving my testimony I decided it was time to deliver the Pastor Al line. I said to the congregation of which maybe less then half actually had known him, “I have to wrap this up now. I can hear Pastor Al doing his fake cough in my mind." I loved the fact I could acknowledge the person who made it possible for everyone in that room to be there. I loved that I got to drop his name in front of a full room....I loved that people were thinking of him and laughing.
“I Have to Mow his Lawn? What if I Miss a Blade?"
In the summer of 1994, I was 14 years old and my family found itself living in the same apartment complex as Pastor Al. He occasionally would pick me up and take me to church on a Wednesday night for revival meetings. During the 6 years we lived in the same complex, I was often volunteered by my Mom to mow his lawn. He had a small yard and a manual, non-engined mower.
The job literally took me about 10 minutes to do. I remember on one particular hot day, looking over as I was rolling the mower and seeing him standing at the sliding glass door. In my mind I was panicked and sure he was scrutinizing my work. I probably started mowing nervously in crooked lines as he stood there. After a few seconds of watching, he opened the door and said to me, “Don’t forget to come in for iced tea when you're done."...... The face of God had spoken. And strangely enough, he was more concerned about my well-being then his grasses cosmetics.
July 31, 1996
I don't know how I remember the date, I just do. My best friend Jim Carpenter and I were known for our petty, girlish fights. We would argue about the dumbest things as if they were life or death, then not speak for awhile afterwards. During this particular time period we hadn't talked in the longest amount of time we had ever gone. My mom set us up to get us back together. He came over to my house on this summer day and asked me if I wanted to go golfing. We set out to Webster golf course to play a round.
I remember we were still angry at each other and were bickering quite a bit still.As we headed towards one particular hole we saw Pastor Al up ahead of us, pulling his clubs with a hand cart golfing alone.We debated for a few moments whether we should go up to him and converse. I remember thinking," If he asks us to join,we won't be able to curse after a bad shot the rest of the day; and worst of all Jim are I are going to have to pretend that we don't hate each other right now."
We decided to hurry along and catch up to him to say "hi". He asked us if we would like to join him and we did. It was not long, before Pastor Al was displeased with one of his shots and started talking to himself. - "Al, You have got to be kidding me. What were you thinking? You are playing terrible golf."
Throughout the day he berated himself as such after a 'bad' shot. Jim and I laughed about it afterwards because we were so worried about not being able to beat ourselves up while golfing with the pastor, and it turned out he did enough self-scolding for all three of us. He must have beaten us each by 20 strokes and also through pastoral osmosis, Jim and I were getting along great.
Always There at the Lowest Points
When I was 17 years old I became plagued with a difficult digestive disease that left me bed ridden many a time. Over the next 5 years my mom would call Pastor Al on my most dire nights to ask for prayer. He would often head right over to my house and pray with me. Sometimes he would come alone and other times he would bring the elders with him.
One time in particular I was more depressed than sick. He came over and sat with me one on one in the living room. I lived in the basement of my parents house and I remember being so sick and depressed that I wouldn't come up for days.
I remember when I came upstairs on this day that the sun piercing through the blinds had made my vision distorted. I must have not seen the sun in weeks. I slept during the day and stayed up all night. I remember before I could even adjust my eyes to the light Pastor Al was speaking life into me. I don't remember exact words but the gist was “Do you believe God has something better planned for you? Do you believe he is able to save you from death?"
I want to say that the man always knew exactly what to say, but the fact I don't have a lot of direct quotes on him specifically makes me more apt to say this; the man always knew how to love you.
Goodbye Intimidation
There was about a 5 year span where I was very sick, and it was only towards the end of my sickness that my childhood intimidation of him ceased. I worked at a deli in Webster where he shopped and sadly enough, I remember sometimes I would see him coming around the bend and I would hide in the back room. I figured I had nothing good or Godly to report to him, so what would I talk about?
It was towards the end of that period of time that I stopped hiding in the back room and started embracing him. I recall on more than one occasion asking my boss if I could take my break and going up to the diner to have coffee with Al. The man I had so hastily and erroneously labeled as overwhelmingly intimidating,was suddenly my friend.
His Second Gift to Me
I ended up being hospitalized a few times and the first one to join me there after my immediate family was always Pastor Al.
In 2001 I had a bad reaction to a drug and had a temperature of over 107 degrees, ending up in the intensive care unit of Genesee Hospital. He came down to pray with me in the unit and the next Sunday I gave testimony of how God saved my life.
Al prayed for me after my testimony and I still have the audio tape, one that I played last week for the first time in many years in preparation for writing this piece. It was my first time hearing his voice in so long and is my only documented audio of him.
He spoke words over me that 9 years later mean more than they ever have. He said “Joe, the Lord is asking you, do you love me? And you are saying 'Yes Lord, I love you.' And The Lord is saying to you “I love you Joe. Never have any doubt in your mind that I love you. I have always loved you. And I want to take you out of this place of sickness. But it's all contingent on you walking out this love relationship with me."
He went on to talk about how God promises to take me out of this wilderness of illness if I only will allow him to and trust him. As I listened to it recently I couldn't help but get teary-eyed. His voice was so gentle, and his passion so evident. It's fitting that the only documented audio I have of Pastor Al is him speaking in the role of Jesus.
His Third Gift to Me
Sometime during the years of illness, Pastor Al brought me a handkerchief. He told me that it was representative of the hem of Jesus’ garment as documented in the Bible. He said when I feel alone and overcome by illness I could hold onto it as if I was holding onto Jesus himself. As I write this, I am familiarizing myself with the story behind the garment in the Bible.
The story goes that a woman had had an issue of bleeding for 12 years. As the masses tried to get Jesus attention as he walked through the village, the woman reached out and touched the hem of his garment and was immediately healed. I am just realizing now that it has been 12 plus years for me dealing with a disease whose first symptom was loss of blood. I only last week, not having yet familiarized myself with the story of the woman in the Bible, heard God tell me to proclaim that I am healed of all digestive disease.(Five months after I wrote this I was indeed healed of Crohn's Disease, as a doctor told me he couldn't find a trace of it every existing in my body. Hallelujah.)
Looking back perhaps the handkerchief was a prophetic gift. I always held that handkerchief near and dear to my heart not only because it was a gift from Al, but it represented my hope in one day being healed. Sometime after he died I lost the handkerchief. I remember searching deep and wide for it many a time. To this day if I could find just one thing I ever lost it would be that handkerchief.
His Final Gift to Me
In June of 2004 Al Gerhardt passed away from complications of cancer. The sanctuary was so packed with people for his funeral that the church streamed the service on closed circuit television into another room in the church. As some of his grandson's carried out his casket, there was not a dry eye in the building.
A year or two after his death my mom had mentioned to his daughter, Joy, that I was having trouble seeing small print due to the years of steroid use affecting my vision. Joy asked her if I wanted a bible that had large print. It was a Bible Pastor Al had bought later in his life because of the larger print being easier to see. Joy gave my mom the Bible to give to me. I can't express my gratitude to be able to own one of the last Bibles that this ultimate man of God had owned.
In this Bible there is only one spot where he had hand written in it. It is written in pencil, with two verses in it at the bottom of Ephesians 2. Ephesians 2:8 and Isaiah 65:1, and they are as follows. Ephesians 2:8- "For by grace you have been saved through faith and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God." Isaiah 65:1 - “I was sought by those who did not ask for me; I was found by those who did not seek me. I said 'Here I am, here I am,' to a nation that was not called by my name."
Both verses are representative of how unworthy we are of God and how his grace is so precious. How appropriate that in the last years of his life, in perhaps the last Bible he ever owned in perhaps the last markings he ever documented in a Bible, his notes were in regards to how humble we should feel to be receiving God's grace. It is so fitting because when I had finally got past my false image of intimidation, what I found most in Pastor Al was a humble and thankful Christian.
I mentioned earlier that he used to get antsy when testimonies would drag on Sunday mornings and joked about him being late for his tee time. I think its important to point out he wasn't trying to move things along for his own reasons, but he was just always cognizant of keeping things in the realm of the Holy Spirit’s flow for the service. As I mentioned above, he was humbled by what God had given him and always aware of God's presence.
In writing this, I was thinking about when we get to heaven and if we get to request to be able to see and spend time catching up with certain people that have had an impact on our lives on this earth. If this is how it happens I have a feeling Al Gerhardt doesn't get many periods up there where he is not "looked up." The people whose lives he had an impact on are countless,as is I am sure are the amount of people he led to Christ that want to thank him for the glory that has been revealed through his outreaching.
I know when I get there he will be on the top of my list of people to look up. What will I do when I see him? Maybe just give him a gentle hug and a whisper of "Thank you." I will try to keep it brief, but who am I kidding, no I wont.
I guess I'll find out quickly if there are wrist watches and fake coughs in heaven.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Finally A Funny One :How Not To Handle a Loaded Gun In Your Face: The Story of the Night I Got Robbed with Sawed Off Shotguns.
On June 19 1999, my beloved Buffalo Sabres lost game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals. They lost the series 4 games to 2 and were victims of a goal in the 3rd overtime of game 6 that shouldn't have been allowed due to an in the crease violation. Had the Sabres found a way to win that game I would have been watching a 7th and decisive game that Tuesday the 22nd. Instead I was at a park in Penfield, New York getting robbed at loaded gunpoint.
Three of my friends ( Jim, Joe, and Josh) and I went to Linear Park about 9pm in the evening to hang out. We were there no longer then five minutes when a group of 4 guys came up to us pretending to want to fraternize. The introductory statement came in a bizarre request that I didn't understand-" Hey, you guys got any trees?" I found out later that trees was the cool way to ask if we had any marijuana cigarettes. One friend picked up on the lingo quickly and proclaimed we were pot free on this night.
Well the boys were not happy that we weren't able to provide them with any of that "Kind Bud." So the next words out one of their mouths were "Well let's see what you DO have." Two of them pulled out shotguns and stuck them in my friend Joe and Josh's faces. Me and my best friend Jim were lucky enough to not have a shotgun in our faces. For the moment.
My friend Joe was a tough kid, who didn't put up with any nonsense. He was the type that if he wasn't on your side you better run fast and never look back. His first reaction to the shotgun in his face was to swat it out of his face. This didn't please the ringleader of the group,Michael P. Sheheen. He was running the show and he had 2 other Einstein's in charge of the shotgun's. When Joe swatted it, Sheehan exhorted that this was " not a game" and told his cohort to "bust".
I was learning all kinds of new terms on this night. "Trees" meant weed,and apparently "bust" meant shoot the gun into the grass to show us it's loaded. When the kid tried to shoot the ground to show us the gun was packed, He couldn't get it to shoot. So Shaheen implored the other gun wielder to shoot his gun to show us it was loaded. Gunman number 2 failed just as miserably as gunman number one. Neither could figure out their guns. Apparently these hijackers didn't believe in dry runs.
At this time, I remember 2 thoughts came into my mind. One was that the gun's were indeed loaded. Two was that the guys holding them to our heads didn't know how to use them. I began to repent of my sins and prepared to see Jesus momentarily.
After a few minutes of trying to figure out how to use his loaded rifle on the grass,Shaheen told gunman number 2 to forget it and suggested that they just point them back at our heads so they could continue on with the robbery. This was the part where the gun now was pointed at my brain for the first time.
Joe had settled down a bit now that he saw that the guns were likely loaded and the gun toter's were more than likely idiots. So they proceeded to tell us to put all our money and belongings from our pocket's into one of their hat's. Between the four of us they got 48 bucks. When you count the overweight robber they left in the get away car due to his inability to run, there were five robbers. That's a whopping 9 dollars and 75 cents each. And to think, Mcdonald's was hiring.
Well in all actuality the thieves would have gotten an extra 20 bucks and keys to a new car had my friends been honest victims............
Not to be outdone by Joe swatting a loaded rifle out of his face to try to salvage his 17 bucks, Jim and Josh decided to be cute during the string of events.
While the young men were trying to figure out how to use their guns, Jim knew that his money was soon to be at risk. He was a minimum wage "Yo-Yo" operator at Sea Breeze who's friends (me) regularly stiffed him on gas money. He decided it would be a good idea to preserve the larger bills and only give the robbers the 1's and 5's. He took the lone 20 dollar bill out of his pocket and inconspicuously stuck his 20 dollar bill down his backside and placed it on top of his posterior.
Not to be outdone, my friend Josh Demille decided when the gunmen asked for everything in his pocket that he was not giving up his car keys. Now don't get me wrong, I understand this to some degree- It was a new car and was pretty nifty looking. So afterwards when we asked Josh what he would have done if they demanded his car keys he said, " I would have let us all get shot before I gave up the keys to my new car." Brilliant. When we asked him how his dead, lifeless corpse would drive his car he had no answers but still insisted on principle he would have never given up his car keys.
After the robber's got our 48 dollars they ran off and what do ya know, Joe went after them on foot. When later questioned about his decision to chase loaded gunmen over 17 dollars, he stated " It's the principle of it. Nobody robs me."
Joe chased them across town by foot, then hopped into a car that he stopped on 441 and told them to "Follow that car!",and finally by foot again. He swears that a bullet zoomed past his head at one point and the cops later did find a bullet in the a field. He actually called the cops as he chased the robbers and they ended up catching the thieves in a field in East Rochester.
The robbers all got sentenced to jail time. The ring leader got upwards of 20 years in prison. If not for Joe chasing them across town they probably would have gotten away with it because we couldn't see their faces in the dark and had no way of giving a proper identification.
Later in the night as we waited to be interviewed by police , three of us headed to Denny's to get some food. Where did we get the money to pay for it you ask? We had just been robbed and at the age of 18 didn't have credit cards. Well, Jim's refusal to abandon his 20 dollars paid dividends. Yes the backside 20 was put into circulation only hours after visiting Jim's inside back "pocket". That poor waitress never knew what hit her.
Life is funny. Had the Sabres not been cheated 3 nights before we wouldn't have been in that position. Had these robbers not robbed the one guy in Rochester that was willing to swat a gun out of his face and chase loaded gunmen across town on principle alone, they would have not ended up in jail.
I get flack from my 3 friends to this day for not doing anything exciting in that moment such as hiding a 20 dollar bill in my butt crack or swatting a loaded gun out of my face. I was the loser who stared at the ground in the face of a gun instead of trying to pull some against the grain theatric.
But thanks to my irreplaceable friends, at the end of the night I was lucky enough to have a ride home in a shiny new red car, with a full belly and a story to tell. And in the end isn't every situation worth it if it results in having a good story to tell? As long as you live to tell about it.
Three of my friends ( Jim, Joe, and Josh) and I went to Linear Park about 9pm in the evening to hang out. We were there no longer then five minutes when a group of 4 guys came up to us pretending to want to fraternize. The introductory statement came in a bizarre request that I didn't understand-" Hey, you guys got any trees?" I found out later that trees was the cool way to ask if we had any marijuana cigarettes. One friend picked up on the lingo quickly and proclaimed we were pot free on this night.
Well the boys were not happy that we weren't able to provide them with any of that "Kind Bud." So the next words out one of their mouths were "Well let's see what you DO have." Two of them pulled out shotguns and stuck them in my friend Joe and Josh's faces. Me and my best friend Jim were lucky enough to not have a shotgun in our faces. For the moment.
My friend Joe was a tough kid, who didn't put up with any nonsense. He was the type that if he wasn't on your side you better run fast and never look back. His first reaction to the shotgun in his face was to swat it out of his face. This didn't please the ringleader of the group,Michael P. Sheheen. He was running the show and he had 2 other Einstein's in charge of the shotgun's. When Joe swatted it, Sheehan exhorted that this was " not a game" and told his cohort to "bust".
I was learning all kinds of new terms on this night. "Trees" meant weed,and apparently "bust" meant shoot the gun into the grass to show us it's loaded. When the kid tried to shoot the ground to show us the gun was packed, He couldn't get it to shoot. So Shaheen implored the other gun wielder to shoot his gun to show us it was loaded. Gunman number 2 failed just as miserably as gunman number one. Neither could figure out their guns. Apparently these hijackers didn't believe in dry runs.
At this time, I remember 2 thoughts came into my mind. One was that the gun's were indeed loaded. Two was that the guys holding them to our heads didn't know how to use them. I began to repent of my sins and prepared to see Jesus momentarily.
After a few minutes of trying to figure out how to use his loaded rifle on the grass,Shaheen told gunman number 2 to forget it and suggested that they just point them back at our heads so they could continue on with the robbery. This was the part where the gun now was pointed at my brain for the first time.
Joe had settled down a bit now that he saw that the guns were likely loaded and the gun toter's were more than likely idiots. So they proceeded to tell us to put all our money and belongings from our pocket's into one of their hat's. Between the four of us they got 48 bucks. When you count the overweight robber they left in the get away car due to his inability to run, there were five robbers. That's a whopping 9 dollars and 75 cents each. And to think, Mcdonald's was hiring.
Well in all actuality the thieves would have gotten an extra 20 bucks and keys to a new car had my friends been honest victims............
Not to be outdone by Joe swatting a loaded rifle out of his face to try to salvage his 17 bucks, Jim and Josh decided to be cute during the string of events.
While the young men were trying to figure out how to use their guns, Jim knew that his money was soon to be at risk. He was a minimum wage "Yo-Yo" operator at Sea Breeze who's friends (me) regularly stiffed him on gas money. He decided it would be a good idea to preserve the larger bills and only give the robbers the 1's and 5's. He took the lone 20 dollar bill out of his pocket and inconspicuously stuck his 20 dollar bill down his backside and placed it on top of his posterior.
Not to be outdone, my friend Josh Demille decided when the gunmen asked for everything in his pocket that he was not giving up his car keys. Now don't get me wrong, I understand this to some degree- It was a new car and was pretty nifty looking. So afterwards when we asked Josh what he would have done if they demanded his car keys he said, " I would have let us all get shot before I gave up the keys to my new car." Brilliant. When we asked him how his dead, lifeless corpse would drive his car he had no answers but still insisted on principle he would have never given up his car keys.
After the robber's got our 48 dollars they ran off and what do ya know, Joe went after them on foot. When later questioned about his decision to chase loaded gunmen over 17 dollars, he stated " It's the principle of it. Nobody robs me."
Joe chased them across town by foot, then hopped into a car that he stopped on 441 and told them to "Follow that car!",and finally by foot again. He swears that a bullet zoomed past his head at one point and the cops later did find a bullet in the a field. He actually called the cops as he chased the robbers and they ended up catching the thieves in a field in East Rochester.
The robbers all got sentenced to jail time. The ring leader got upwards of 20 years in prison. If not for Joe chasing them across town they probably would have gotten away with it because we couldn't see their faces in the dark and had no way of giving a proper identification.
Later in the night as we waited to be interviewed by police , three of us headed to Denny's to get some food. Where did we get the money to pay for it you ask? We had just been robbed and at the age of 18 didn't have credit cards. Well, Jim's refusal to abandon his 20 dollars paid dividends. Yes the backside 20 was put into circulation only hours after visiting Jim's inside back "pocket". That poor waitress never knew what hit her.
Life is funny. Had the Sabres not been cheated 3 nights before we wouldn't have been in that position. Had these robbers not robbed the one guy in Rochester that was willing to swat a gun out of his face and chase loaded gunmen across town on principle alone, they would have not ended up in jail.
I get flack from my 3 friends to this day for not doing anything exciting in that moment such as hiding a 20 dollar bill in my butt crack or swatting a loaded gun out of my face. I was the loser who stared at the ground in the face of a gun instead of trying to pull some against the grain theatric.
But thanks to my irreplaceable friends, at the end of the night I was lucky enough to have a ride home in a shiny new red car, with a full belly and a story to tell. And in the end isn't every situation worth it if it results in having a good story to tell? As long as you live to tell about it.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Goal we strive for is described in this song. The prayer that gets us there is below it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NI_1YliutzA&feature=related
"God, I recognize that I have not lived my life for You up until now. I have been living for myself and that is wrong. I need You in my life; I want You in my life. I acknowledge the completed work of Your Son Jesus Christ in giving His life for me on the cross at Calvary, and I long to receive the forgiveness you have made freely available to me through this sacrifice. Come into my life now, Lord. Take up residence in my heart and be my king, my Lord, and my Savior. From this day forward, I will no longer be controlled by sin, or the desire to please myself, but I will follow You all the days of my life. Those days are in Your hands. I ask this in Jesus' precious and holy name. Amen
"God, I recognize that I have not lived my life for You up until now. I have been living for myself and that is wrong. I need You in my life; I want You in my life. I acknowledge the completed work of Your Son Jesus Christ in giving His life for me on the cross at Calvary, and I long to receive the forgiveness you have made freely available to me through this sacrifice. Come into my life now, Lord. Take up residence in my heart and be my king, my Lord, and my Savior. From this day forward, I will no longer be controlled by sin, or the desire to please myself, but I will follow You all the days of my life. Those days are in Your hands. I ask this in Jesus' precious and holy name. Amen
The "Oxymoronicness" of Defining "God is Good" in our own terms
For years I tried to define what "God is good" was supposed to mean. I remember being alone,sick,and depressed on many occasions and cursing him for ever making me. It was only when I was in agonizing pain I would cry out to him like he was my own hired hand. I can recount years in which I only looked to God if I was in actual physical pain. "Hey God, I have no use for you unless I'm desperately hurting and need some relief." And the funny thing was, he always answered.
I was in a place for a decade or so that I used God for my own benefit. Instead of having a relationship with him or letting him use me for eternal changes, I abused him as a lifeline.
One time in 2003, I ate popcorn and it got stuck in my digestive tract making a turn in the "J" portion of my "J pouch." It was the most agonizing pain I ever felt in my life and that's saying something for someone who had a stomach ache for almost 5 years straight. I was sprawled out on the hallway floor for the better part of an hour writhing in pain. Finally I heard the still small voice of the Lord say , " How about you ask me to help?". So I did. The pain left immediately...Immediately. I thanked God and forgot about him until I was in pain again.
I was defining "God is good" in my own terms. My definition was God is good when I need him or he is good when my life is "good." I was unable to see his constant willingness to be good because I had created a man made version of God. Talk about an oxymoron... "Hey God. Come and hang out on my terms, then go away until I need relief again. Thanks man. Well done Good and faithful God,enter into the joy of my human needs."
We get in trouble in life when we have flesh driven expectation of God. Why do so many people turn from God when a loved one dies, or a marriage fails, or we are wronged by a human in some form. Allot of times I think we forget that this is not heaven. If things went "perfectly good" on this earth, what would we have to look forward to in heaven?
Last year I got transferred from one job to another after reporting improprieties at a house I was working at . It felt wrong being transferred because I didn't do anything wrong. I asked God why this would happen when he knew I was right and management was wrong. I was trying to bargain with God about what was good and what was bad. "God, Did you get confused and think I was wrong? Did you forget that I was fighting for the least of these?" My mind was playing games on me about his goodness. I was mad at God for allowing this to happen. Another oxymoron minus the oxy.
In the next year I realized why God had me transferred. I made relationships with people at my new job that were fruitful and everlasting. I saw 3 people come to Christ at the new house. After the last person whom God set me up with to witness to had got saved,I got a new job. His timing is perfect. His work was done at this house...Oh wait, God knew what he was doing when I got wronged and transferred? Really?
God put these people in my life. Then in my heart. Then gave me the ability and timeliness to help show them his love. This never would have happened had "God is good" been defined by my logic. I would have wallowed in the previous house, not sowing any seeds.
God is good even when you are being wronged by the world? God is good even when today absolutely appears to suck? It's all in your perception. And for so many years I had deception in my perception.
When someone dies before their time, or even after their time,so often people get mad at God. We forget the fact that if we had a chance to ask our loved one if they would want to come back to earth they would laugh at you and say no way. We forget that 18 years old is no different to God then 90 years old. That the stories and trickle downs of lives lived, and their forthcoming eternal ramifications, transcends time.
"Time exists,but just on your wrist's,so don't panic." God wants us to know that this earth is not heaven and he is begging us to not try to define it as such. Imagine if "God is good" translated into our own ideal life on earth. We would get to heaven and feel ripped off and confused. "Wait, I got everything I wanted on earth,so how is heaven set apart?"
If there was no afterlife I could see how we could easily get angry at God for taking a loved one from us or allowing us to be sick. But talk about oxymoron again. Without an afterlife,there would be no God to get mad at.
I have talked to so many people who try to define "God is good" in their own terms and end up angry at him. I looked at one in the mirror for 15 years. It's one of Satan's greatest weapons; Confusing the human spirit into thinking that God might only be good some of the time,or even worse: That God isn't good at all. All the while letting it take place in our own convoluted man made dictionary. Last I checked, "Webster" or "Merriam" didn't rise from the dead on the third day.
I read recently that it is better to be healed then cured. In my new reality I am healed of all my ailments. I may not be cured yet. I may not be cured on this earth,but I am healed because my circumstance lulls in comparison to what God has done and what he will do. Would I take an instant cure to all my problems right now if it meant I was not healed? Never. By his stripes we are healed. I now know why that passage doesn't say "By his stripes we are cured." We must be healed first. And healing takes place in our perception. Our true cure comes when we get to heaven and see the beauty of the face of Jesus.
I know of so many tragedies that result in either turning on God or turning to God.One extreme or another. I believe the direction people choose is primarily based on who tries to define God's goodness and who accepts his goodness has a definition Webster's dictionary does not contain. The people who hold the most power for the eternal good of God's kingdom are the people who have suffered loss. There is power in the story of your suffering that people yearn to hear.
I know of a recent tragedy that has led countless souls to Christ. The person whose earthly life has been lost is happy in his arms. Because of it and the trickle down that God has allowed,many more will join him one day. Beauty for ashes. In God's time. Because time only exists in eternity.
I am thankful God allowed me to use God for so many years. I am thankful he let me yell at him and curse him. I was not struck down by lightning. I was not banished to hell. God is good even when I am not. I am thankful that he stuck with me when I wanted nothing to do with him.
So many people ask how a good God would allow such bad things to happen to us. They hem and haw and turn to the things of the world as God sits and waits in the same place he was when things were "good." He weeps at our confusion. He yearns for our return.
I leave you with this challenge. Don't define "God is good." I have been challenged in how I pray lately. I don't want to ask for things specifically because if its not in my best interest (And only God knows my best interest), and it doesn't happen because of it,Then it would be easy to get mad at the Lord.
I have learned to just pray for his will allot more lately then specific things that the human mind defines as "good." What more could you want then his will? A job? Health? Money? Don't be silly. Don't write your own definition.
In the end the only dictionary that will exist is a book of names..In it will be names of those who have chosen Jesus. You can put your name in it today. Because God is always good and your destiny is promised the moment you accept that as fact and ask Jesus into your life. Until you see him face to face in a place that neither oxymoron's or moron's exist, we can't define "good" by human standards. One day you will understand that he is and was good all along. I only hope you can make that day today.
I was in a place for a decade or so that I used God for my own benefit. Instead of having a relationship with him or letting him use me for eternal changes, I abused him as a lifeline.
One time in 2003, I ate popcorn and it got stuck in my digestive tract making a turn in the "J" portion of my "J pouch." It was the most agonizing pain I ever felt in my life and that's saying something for someone who had a stomach ache for almost 5 years straight. I was sprawled out on the hallway floor for the better part of an hour writhing in pain. Finally I heard the still small voice of the Lord say , " How about you ask me to help?". So I did. The pain left immediately...Immediately. I thanked God and forgot about him until I was in pain again.
I was defining "God is good" in my own terms. My definition was God is good when I need him or he is good when my life is "good." I was unable to see his constant willingness to be good because I had created a man made version of God. Talk about an oxymoron... "Hey God. Come and hang out on my terms, then go away until I need relief again. Thanks man. Well done Good and faithful God,enter into the joy of my human needs."
We get in trouble in life when we have flesh driven expectation of God. Why do so many people turn from God when a loved one dies, or a marriage fails, or we are wronged by a human in some form. Allot of times I think we forget that this is not heaven. If things went "perfectly good" on this earth, what would we have to look forward to in heaven?
Last year I got transferred from one job to another after reporting improprieties at a house I was working at . It felt wrong being transferred because I didn't do anything wrong. I asked God why this would happen when he knew I was right and management was wrong. I was trying to bargain with God about what was good and what was bad. "God, Did you get confused and think I was wrong? Did you forget that I was fighting for the least of these?" My mind was playing games on me about his goodness. I was mad at God for allowing this to happen. Another oxymoron minus the oxy.
In the next year I realized why God had me transferred. I made relationships with people at my new job that were fruitful and everlasting. I saw 3 people come to Christ at the new house. After the last person whom God set me up with to witness to had got saved,I got a new job. His timing is perfect. His work was done at this house...Oh wait, God knew what he was doing when I got wronged and transferred? Really?
God put these people in my life. Then in my heart. Then gave me the ability and timeliness to help show them his love. This never would have happened had "God is good" been defined by my logic. I would have wallowed in the previous house, not sowing any seeds.
God is good even when you are being wronged by the world? God is good even when today absolutely appears to suck? It's all in your perception. And for so many years I had deception in my perception.
When someone dies before their time, or even after their time,so often people get mad at God. We forget the fact that if we had a chance to ask our loved one if they would want to come back to earth they would laugh at you and say no way. We forget that 18 years old is no different to God then 90 years old. That the stories and trickle downs of lives lived, and their forthcoming eternal ramifications, transcends time.
"Time exists,but just on your wrist's,so don't panic." God wants us to know that this earth is not heaven and he is begging us to not try to define it as such. Imagine if "God is good" translated into our own ideal life on earth. We would get to heaven and feel ripped off and confused. "Wait, I got everything I wanted on earth,so how is heaven set apart?"
If there was no afterlife I could see how we could easily get angry at God for taking a loved one from us or allowing us to be sick. But talk about oxymoron again. Without an afterlife,there would be no God to get mad at.
I have talked to so many people who try to define "God is good" in their own terms and end up angry at him. I looked at one in the mirror for 15 years. It's one of Satan's greatest weapons; Confusing the human spirit into thinking that God might only be good some of the time,or even worse: That God isn't good at all. All the while letting it take place in our own convoluted man made dictionary. Last I checked, "Webster" or "Merriam" didn't rise from the dead on the third day.
I read recently that it is better to be healed then cured. In my new reality I am healed of all my ailments. I may not be cured yet. I may not be cured on this earth,but I am healed because my circumstance lulls in comparison to what God has done and what he will do. Would I take an instant cure to all my problems right now if it meant I was not healed? Never. By his stripes we are healed. I now know why that passage doesn't say "By his stripes we are cured." We must be healed first. And healing takes place in our perception. Our true cure comes when we get to heaven and see the beauty of the face of Jesus.
I know of so many tragedies that result in either turning on God or turning to God.One extreme or another. I believe the direction people choose is primarily based on who tries to define God's goodness and who accepts his goodness has a definition Webster's dictionary does not contain. The people who hold the most power for the eternal good of God's kingdom are the people who have suffered loss. There is power in the story of your suffering that people yearn to hear.
I know of a recent tragedy that has led countless souls to Christ. The person whose earthly life has been lost is happy in his arms. Because of it and the trickle down that God has allowed,many more will join him one day. Beauty for ashes. In God's time. Because time only exists in eternity.
I am thankful God allowed me to use God for so many years. I am thankful he let me yell at him and curse him. I was not struck down by lightning. I was not banished to hell. God is good even when I am not. I am thankful that he stuck with me when I wanted nothing to do with him.
So many people ask how a good God would allow such bad things to happen to us. They hem and haw and turn to the things of the world as God sits and waits in the same place he was when things were "good." He weeps at our confusion. He yearns for our return.
I leave you with this challenge. Don't define "God is good." I have been challenged in how I pray lately. I don't want to ask for things specifically because if its not in my best interest (And only God knows my best interest), and it doesn't happen because of it,Then it would be easy to get mad at the Lord.
I have learned to just pray for his will allot more lately then specific things that the human mind defines as "good." What more could you want then his will? A job? Health? Money? Don't be silly. Don't write your own definition.
In the end the only dictionary that will exist is a book of names..In it will be names of those who have chosen Jesus. You can put your name in it today. Because God is always good and your destiny is promised the moment you accept that as fact and ask Jesus into your life. Until you see him face to face in a place that neither oxymoron's or moron's exist, we can't define "good" by human standards. One day you will understand that he is and was good all along. I only hope you can make that day today.
Friday, August 20, 2010
in practice for my book of life's short storires im gonna start writing alot of short stuff ,feel free to delete yourself now.
My first memory in life is putting a spoon in the garbabe disposal when I was 3 years old. I can still remember the sound of the grinding metal, and the fear and embarassment it instilled in me. In the midst of my tears there was a voice of calm and love to comfort me. With a laundry basket in one hand and me in the other, My maternal Grandmother held me as I cried. She told me everything would be alright. I only have a few concrete memories of her, but still to this day I recall her as one of the most gentle and loving people I ever came in contact with. I hope one day I can comfort my Grandchildren with half the grace she did on this day in 1983.
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