Incessant Divagation

“CAMP WAKA WAKA” 

by Rick Jones, Husband of the Minister's Wife

When I told you about my wife's annual pilgrimage to a women's retreat at Camp Waka Waka in Michigan [shameless promotion for last week's column], I mentioned that I wasn't using the camp's real name. But I didn't make up the name “Waka Waka” when writing the article. It came about years ago because of a prayer request at church and because my memory's not very good.

Like many camps, this one sets aside the summer weeks for kids, and had invented an “Indian-sounding” name that would appeal to youngsters. Yes, I know, that kind of thing is considered politically incorrect today, but back then, when the campground was founded, Native Americans were often called “Redskins” and were apparently a bit more thick-skinned, as in, harder to offend. I say that as someone who grew up playing cowboys and Indians, in an area where most of us were just as willing to be Indians as cowboys. Nobody cared which side won as long as, at some point, we quit relying on imaginary bullets and arrows and started battling up close and personal. I was also a Washington Redskins fan back when NFL rules didn't favor the passing game so much and my team had the “hogs” on the front line. So I associate yelling “hogs” and “Redskins” with cheering on winning warriors.

Anyway, the camp's name was actually something like “Ao-Weh-Taka”. And as hard as I tried, I couldn't get it right. “A-One-On-A-Taco”, I'd say, or wait for Lois to say it right and respond “Gesundheit”. I suppose I could have tried harder – but then, I wouldn't have this story to tell you and right now you'd be reading about why I still read comics books [shameless promotion for next week's article].

Lois and some friends from Goodold Baptist Church had not yet returned from camp as we were meeting one Sunday night. During the time we shared prayer requests, I asked people to pray for those ladies of our congregation. I was saying “. . . as they drive back from --” and suddenly I realized that I had truly forgotten the name of the place! In a slight panic, I blurted out another of the goofy names I had given it, this one inspired by Fozzy Bear from the Muppets – “Camp Waka Waka”.

Some of the people laughed, and we moved on. But when it was time to pray, I called on Barry, who was [1] hard of hearing, and might never have heard the actual name of the camp clearly, and [2] probably had no idea who the Muppets were and didn't get the joke. As he prayed, he included the request, “Lord, protect the ladies coming back from Camp Waka Waka”. I was glad that we observed the tradition of closing our eyes as we prayed, because I think it would be counterproductive for people to see the pastor turning red and struggling to keep from bursting into laughter. I kept silent, and fortunately – or should I say, by the grace of God – since Barry was hard of hearing, he didn't notice the few people who were chuckling.

From that day on, I gave up trying to learn the true name of the camp; now I always refer to it as “Camp Waka Waka”.

Incessant Divagation

“LOOKING FOR A SIGN” 

by Rick Jones, Husband of the Minister's Wife

Last week I promised to share messages from the sign in front of Goodold Baptist Church. There were plenty of common messages announcing special meetings or saying things like “JESUS IS RISEN”, but the offbeat ones had a special place for me. Not all of the examples here were original with me. I found many ideas online. Just search for “funny church sign messages” [but finish reading this article first].

SEVEN DAYS WITHOUT PRAYER 

MAKES ONE WEAK 

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OPEN SUNDAYS

SINNERS WELCOME 

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IF YOU ARE TOO BUSY 

TO PRAY

YOU ARE TOO BUSY 

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1 CROSS PLUS 

3 NAILS EQUALS 

4 GIVEN 

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TO LEARN ABOUT LIFE

READ PSALMS, NOT PALMS 

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CH__CH 

WHAT'S MISSING? 

UR 

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YOUR ETERNAL RESERVATIONS: 

SMOKING OR NON-SMOKING? 

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JESUS WILL RETURN 

SEE THE LIGHT 

OR FEEL THE HEAT 

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APRIL 1ST

INTERNATIONAL ATHEIST DAY

PSALM 14:1

But I never could top my favorite message of all, which was not found on a church sign, but was displayed outside a gas station / convenience store:

THE BOSS TOLD ME

TO CHANGE THE MESSAGE

ON THIS STUPID SIGN

SO I DID

Incessant Divagation

“DESTINED TO CHOOSE” 

by Rick Jones, Husband of the Minister's Wife

Some jokes don't work well unless the audience has certain information. In elementary school, elephant jokes were all the rage, but they would have meant nothing to someone who had never heard [not “herd”] of elephants. And there's a joke which ends with “So the officer says, 'Do you know how fast you were going?' and Professor Heisenberg says, 'No, but I know where I am.' “ It's only funny if you're familiar with subatomic physics and Heisenberg's uncertainty principle.

So before I share the joke that I used to open my first sermon as pastor at Goodold Baptist Church, I think I should preface it with a brief theology lesson.

Throughout church history, the debate has raged over predestination vs free will: oversimplified, how much of what happens in life is predetermined and how much is due to our choices? One's view has significant implications for concepts like salvation, prophecy, and moral responsibility. An issue which comes up a lot is whether or not a person who is genuinely saved can somehow lose eternal life, or is “eternally secure”. [Please don't turn the “comments” section into a debate. I only bring this up so the joke will make sense. This is still “Incessant Divagation”, not “Theology Smackdown”. Although “Theology Smackdown” sounds like an interesting idea . . .]

Anyway: I began my first official sermon as pastor by saying . . .

A man in town came to me and asked for some advice about what church attend. The church he went to for many years recently split over the matter of predestination and free will. The two sides held extreme positions,but he hadn't made up his mind on the matter.

Based on where most of his close friends worshiped, he tried the “predestination” church. He was asked why he came there, and replied, “I looked at my options and chose this one.” “Chose? CHOSE? How dare you mock the supremacy of God's will?” He was roughly escorted off the premises.

The next Sunday he tried the “free will” church. When asked why he was there, he was thinking that he'd exhausted his other option, so he innocently replied, “I didn't really have any choice.” You can guess how well that went over . . .

So, he asked me, “What should I do? I'm so confused!”

I said, “Obviously, you should come to Goodold Baptist Church! If you're confused, I'm sure you'll fit right in!”

. . . And to show you what a kind bunch of people I had in the congregation, after that joke they still let me keep my job.

But I have a feeling that the head deacon wasn't amused. Soon after, he gave me a gift certificate from a local funeral home for 30% off a deluxe funeral package. That seemed generous, but I noticed two unsettling clauses in the fine print. First, it was non-transferable, which it could only be used for my funeral. That wouldn't have been so bad, but the other clause said, “Must be redeemed within 60 days”.

Then he tried to send me on a church-funded missions trip to the middle of the Sahara desert. Sounded good until I saw that the plane ticket was one way, not round trip, and disembarking the plane was to be done by parachute.

I knew I'd better figure out what to do about this guy or I'd have no end of trouble. So I came up with “Every Member Rebaptism Day”. It was an all-afternoon event, each member of the church being baptized by immersion one after another. When it came time for the head deacon to participate, I treated him like all the rest . . . except that I held him under for eight minutes.

Didn't have any trouble from him after that.