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Articles Receive My Forwards The Hunt for Miss October
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| A Phish Story If damaged by forwarding, read this online at http://www.guymalone.com/phishstory.htm © Guy Malone April 20, 2001 October 1999, planning for the San Antonio UFO conference. It was my first such venture. I spent a good amount of time searching out and e-mailing about 30 online churches in San Antonio, simply telling them of the event, that I had already purchased a table there and was coming to San Antonio to minister at this conference. I was writing to ask if perhaps there was a way they would like to help out - either by providing a host home to avoid hotel expenses, or sponsoring one night at the hotel the conference was at. I did this a month in advance. From 30 churches, I got absolutely no response. Not just no positive response, but not even a "hey we can't help but we'll be praying for ya." I eventually made arrangements at a hostel for $14 x 3 nights. Honestly, I was a little miffed about the whole deal. Not only were they not receiving me for the hero I obviously was, but now I even had to pay my own way to minister during a New Age assault on their town. On the drive down, I finally got sleepy about one hour out of San Antonio, and pulled over at a rest stop just before dawn. I parked in the best-lit place I could find, then laid down in the back of my truck, feeling a little nervous, but tired enough to sleep anyway. When I awoke, it was daylight and I was completely surrounded by hippie kids crashed all over the place. Some were up washing and I talked to them and found out they were on their way to a Phish concert. Like dead-heads of yesteryear, they traveled around in convoys to follow the band. They loved the stickers I had, and put them on their cars, promised to pass them out at the show, etc. Something was really bugging me but I couldn't place it, and I went to wash up. The Holy Spirit landed hard on me there, and had me intensely study the group when I came back out. I certainly wasn't being led to start preaching to them, but to shut up and learn something. The Lord almost rudely brought to mind all my preconceived notions of what it meant to be a so-called minister of the gospel. The church world as we know it has this image of "minimum honorariums," round-trip plane fares and nice hotels as all being part of the deal. Otherwise, it's "no deal." I'd certainly helped host a number of these ministers while an intern at Belmont - picking up their laundry, driving them around, manning their book tables, etc. It was what I knew. It was the direction I probably thought I was going, once I "arrived" anyway. But as the Lord had me survey this group, I realized something that would, as they say "change my life forever." Whatever you might say of their cause, the phish-heads were more committed to it than perhaps any minister I had ever served. A lack of modern conveniences was no obstacle for getting where they had to be. I wondered how many ministers today would be willing to deliver the gospel or do a crusade if they had to sleep in the grass on the side of the road to get there. A few of course, but let's be real. It's beneath us, as respectable people, and especially as respectable ministers. Looking
at these kids though, I saw Jesus, who had no place to lay his head, but went town-to-town
nonetheless. Instead of potheads going to a show, I saw apostles enduring hunger,
shipwrecks, thieves and wild animals, for the PRIVELIDGE of bringing the gospel to those
who hadn't heard. Knowing Christ and going where He led was all the "perk" they
ever required. With sincere humility now, I looked around the dumpy rest stop where I'd
slept, and found myself awed to be found even accidentally among their company. And now
those of whom "the world was not worthy" silently demanded to know how I really
felt about not getting my paid hotel room... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Copyright 2001 www.guymalone.com
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Articles Receive My Forwards The Hunt for Miss October
