Mike Paschall . com

It’s not that I haven’t had anything to report. Uber Church has been alive and well. It’s just been a crazy busy season. We all have to align our priorities, and blogging has definitely taken a backseat for a multitude of reasons. But, sometimes it is good to revisit the sweet spots in your life. There was a season when blogging was my only real outlet. We “preacher types” have to “download” every now and then or we get cranky. The audience in our heads is always thirsty for our exquisite monologues. I honestly know better, but hearing your “self” talk, think, create, or expound can be addicting. I work pretty damn hard to keep the cuckoo in its clock because it’s just downright ugly to be that unaware of our own self-infatuation.

I picked up a fairly major writer and speaker a couple of months ago. I was shocked when he flatly said, “I sold my soul to the devil.” He had my attention. “I wanted fame, I wanted to be known, and I thought that would fix me on the inside. I got my dream.” I couldn’t help myself, “How is that working out for you?” He barely whispered, “It hasn’t changed a damned thing.” I think I already knew what he was going to say.

Let me tell you about Michelle. I picked her up at 4:30am in front of a nicer hotel on the west side of Colorado Springs. She was sitting on a bench taking a last drag on her cigarette. She talked first, and asked me if I knew about the hidden gem that her hotel was. I liked her immediately. She was very short, spunky (especially for 4:30 in the morning), and cute, but she looked very tired. Within minutes, I had already heard a lot about her work. Michelle is a trainer for a giant software company, who travels a lot internationally. It was fun to talk with her about the places I had also visited. This was a woman who had a lot of energy, and was willing to spend that energy even at the wee hours of the morning.

When I inquired about where she was flying to that morning, the mood changed suddenly. “Home.” Her voice cracked as she said it. I looked in the rearview mirror and I could see her pulling out a Kleenex in the back seat. Normally, I would have remained quiet and wait to see what was coming next, but we’d already shared a bunch of words. So, I dug in. “What’s up Michelle?” I asked. It took a good 30 seconds for her to compose herself enough to talk. Finally, she said, “I’m supposed to be here all week, but my brother-in-law died yesterday.” More tears. More crying. I offered my condolences.

Michelle’s brother-in-law was 44 years old. He was a bigger man who hadn’t taken the best care of himself, leaving behind a wife, and three daughters—14, 12, and 8. I got the rundown on the situation, and it was tough. Michelle’s sister hadn’t ever really worked, and her husband didn’t really have anything put away. Since Michelle’s kids were already grown, she had invited her sister and her kids to move in with her.

As we neared the airport, Michelle said, “You want to know something about me?” I had a feeling this was going to be about self-abasement, and I was right. “Of course,” I said. “I’m a very shallow person,” she replied. “How so?” I asked.

She told me how she had had some water damage in the basement of her house. “I’ve been a real bitch to the insurance company and the contractors trying to fix the problem. I’ve been so upset over such a nothing thing compared to what my sister is now facing.” I waited for a good minute. She concluded with a question: “Preacher man, do you think God is trying to tell me something?” I said, “Michelle, life does bring a lot of irritations. Nothing is guaranteed… ever.” That got a big “Amen” from the backseat. “But you’ve already shown your heart towards your sister and your nieces. You’ve shown that you’re open to both inconvenience and mercy, even though everyone is hurting in your family. Try not to be too hard on yourself. They’re going to need a lot of love, and you’re the one they are going to look to for those things. If God is trying to tell you something, love is always involved. If you can’t sense love in what you’re hearing, it’s not from God.”

Once I got her bags out of the back of the car, I asked if I could hug her and pray for her. She said yes, then thanked me, and grabbed her luggage. As she started to walk away, she said, “It’s about priorities, isn’t it?” I grinned. “Yes, Michelle. It’s always about our priorities.” She thanked me again and walked off.

I would be a liar if I told you that Uber driving is financially rewarding. It’s not. Not even close. BUT the encounters—the people and what they’ve taught me—are absolutely priceless.

I suspect my Uber days are close to being over. I realize this expression is overused, BUT it’s definitely been a good ride.

Live every day inside this magnificent truth: GOD LOVES US ALL!

BE GOOD AT LIFE!

Mike

xo