Brian, this just happened last night; I thought you'd get a kick out if it. Last night...
...as is my current habit on Wednesdays, I lent my humble musical talents to the open mic nite at Jimmy Buffett’s Cheeseburger in Paradise. About half way through my set, a sizeable group of college kids huddles around the front-and-center table, apparently enjoying the acoustic stylings of the Zero Jr. catalog, which I find very flattering.
Finishing a modest handful of original tunes, I step off the stage, minding my own business. While I am packing up my gear, a voice from behind me shouts over the refrains of canned, classic island doobies-and-pina-coladas rock and roll, “Hey, Max (my stage name), c’mon over here!” I turn to discover the origin of the invitation is the table of college students, who I will soon learn have traveled down to the Beach from NC State to “get their party on.”
We make idle chit-chat for about an hour or so, waiting for the night to wind down. The evening’s winnings end up being split between myself and a very talented local player by the name of Marcel. On our way out, I am talked into joining this lively bunch for an after party at a beach house belonging to the parents of one of the students. I am somewhat reluctant – despite the fact that I am thoroughly enjoying the pleasure of their company as well as the stroking of the ego – because getting “wasted” has never been my thing, which I think may actually disqualify me from being a genuine rock star. Oh, well.
Nevertheless, since I am feeling this unexplainable pull, perhaps against my “better” judgment, I graciously accept their invitation.
Entering the house, I am not surprised to find the typical accoutrements associated with the binge culture: beer funnels, Bacardi, plastic cups half-full lined up for quarters and beer pong. Being of age myself, I honor my hosts’ hospitality by joining them in a Budweiser, which incidentally, I did not even finish. Several of the other budding songwriters gathered in the living room and started passing a guitar around the circle, continuing the friendly, tribal spirit of the open-mic environment.
Nearly forty-five minutes pass before I hear nature’s sweet voice and retreat to the washroom. With a moment to myself, I breathe a prayer, “God, what do you have up Your sleeve?”, to which I sense His immediate reply, “Head out to the back porch for some air and watch what happens.”
So, I follow obediently. I weave my way through the sardined chaos and step out onto the patio, finding a seat on a Rubbermaid lawn chair. Seconds later, two young ladies and a gentleman join me for some fresh air – which they prefer to suck past crushed tobacco leaves through a small filter. At this point, one of the girls, Becky, asks me a question about the inspiration behind my songs, my answer hinting at my spirituality. This piques the curiosity of Jason, one of the other songwriters, and seemingly out of nowhere, we’re in a full-blown conversation about philosophy and religion.
One by one, the partygoers exit the beach house and bring their thoughts to the table. This evolves into a very open, sharing discussion. Although many of us are from distinctly different religious traditions, I am pleasantly surprised to discover how much we all have in common. I notice the conversation accented by phrases such as, “I was raised a Southern Baptist, but…” or “I go to a Catholic college, but…” or “I’m not really even a ‘religious’ person, but…” each comment leading into something the group felt very passionately, such as our role as God’s children to help the oppressed or to help make the world a better place, or how true spirituality is about character development, not about memorizing theology.
We were all deeply troubled that the Church of Jesus Christ has not embraced its responsibility to alleviate world hunger and other social ills. We all agreed that forgiveness and unconditional love are at the heart of Christ’s message. We all understood that we live in a broken world and are at the mercy of divine grace for redemption, and that our role as Christians has much more to do with participating with Christ in saving the world than playing games on Sunday morning.
As if punctuated by Providential Irony, another partially inebriated soul joins us in the chilly morning air, shouting, “Jesus Christ, God Almighty!” in reaction to the cold. Immediately on his heels, a second fellow echoes the first cry of “Jesus Christ!”, to which everyone on the porch completely falls apart with laughter, because, they couldn’t have more poignantly pinpointed the topic of our conversation.
Properly finding the poetry of the moment, a girl to my right observed that it was interesting that everyone showed up to the house that night to get trashed, but instead found themselves heavily enjoying talking about God on the back porch for two hours. More than once, someone in the group remarked at how peaceful and refreshing this conversation was, looking forward to continuing such conversations at a later date. Several of us exchanged email addresses, hoping to further our dialogue.
I can’t help but wonder how many will look back on this as the Spring Break to remember.
ps - I went back by the beach house this afternoon and dropped off my extra copies of A New Kind of Christian and The Story We Find Ourselves In for them to read and circulate. Pray that God uses them to stimulate future discussion. Stay Tuned!
Answer: Great story! Thanks for sharing it!