My PenPal Pastor - Saturday Night Sermon

This Saturday night was anything but ordinary. It started with a near altercation at the house, which had me rattled. Instead of engaging in the chaos, I made a conscious choice to rise above it and head to the Saturday night church service. I showered, put on my best clothes, and someone even handed me a bus pass as if to affirm that I was making the right decision. But what happened next? Well, let’s just say it wasn’t the evening I expected.

The disturbance at home still had me on edge, so when I got to church, I was a bit more... noticeable than usual. I went around shaking hands with everyone, introducing myself, and telling them I was a friend of Pastor Jerry’s, trying to connect with the congregation. Maybe I overdid it, but I wanted to feel a part of something larger. I even raised my hand during the sermon, eager to ask questions, because that’s just who I am. I engage, I get curious, I participate.

Pastor Jerry, however, didn’t seem to appreciate my enthusiasm. He noticed me, of course, but said nothing. After the service, I walked up to say hello, thinking we could have a good conversation. Instead, he turned and walked away. Pastor Ron, a larger man who could have been mistaken for security, quickly escorted me out of the building. Odd behavior, don’t you think?

Pastor Ron, Jack in the Box, and Church Plans

Once we were outside, Pastor Ron softened up. He bought me Jack in the Box, and we talked about my future plans with the church. His suggestion? Get in touch with Pastor Donald, who could hook me up with a shelter and a job. Now, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the effort, but there’s a catch: I’ve been fired from every job I’ve ever had—over 20 of them, if we’re keeping score. The idea of going down that path again doesn’t exactly fill me with hope.

I explained to Ron that I didn’t want to keep praying to God for a job, only to get fired again and start questioning my relationship with Christ. That cycle of hope and disappointment can take a serious toll. I’ve been there too many times. So, why not focus on something I’m truly passionate about—my art?

The Church, Art, and Missed Opportunities

Here’s the thing: the church has a long history of supporting the arts. Think about Da Vinci, Michelangelo, or even Thomas Kinkade. The church has always been a patron of creativity, and I couldn’t help but wonder why Pastor Jerry wouldn’t just endorse my art. I told Pastor Ron, “We could make money that way! My art, my books—they have value. Why doesn’t Jerry see that?”

But no, Jerry’s plan, as he laid out in the sermon, is for me to get a minimum-wage job, miraculously train myself to outperform everyone, and rise to the top like Joseph from the Bible. It’s a nice story, but it feels out of touch with who I am and what I need. It seems like Jerry doesn’t want to bother with the hassle of selling art and books.

Christians and Their Expectations

What I find most frustrating is that Christians often expect God to do everything for them while simultaneously ignoring the opportunities staring them in the face. Sure, faith is about trusting God’s plan, but it’s also about recognizing the talents and passions we’ve been given and using them. I’ve got a vision for my art, but instead of support, I’m being pushed toward yet another dead-end job.

I left that night feeling a mixture of confusion and frustration. The service didn’t go as planned, and the solution offered to me felt like a band-aid on a bigger problem. Still, I’m holding onto my belief that there’s a way to merge my faith and my creativity. After all, if Da Vinci could do it, so can I.

by Dan and Bonkers

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