BiB #53: Meet Rob Bell

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Nestled atop this sketchy site of sketchyness, are a few different pages to wander upon. Upon the fertilization of the Videos page that includes a couple of sample videos I’ve done, I was reminded of a page I dropped like it was hot and then left like Jennifer Glover did to me after 2 weeks in 8th grade because I called during her brother’s phone time once. But I digress…

I would like to start periodically recounting my “Do Before I Die” list aka Before I’m Burger, and let others feel my successes (and just-barely-counts) in the realm of pre-death accomplishments.

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If you don’t find yourself in the hot wheels loop just yet, Rob Bell the pastor of Mars Hill Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

I guess my initial desire to meet Mr. Bell came after reading his book Velvet Elvis. If I was to make a list of books that changed my outlook on life and my walk with Christ, this one would be a Carl Lewis (not the singer). After reading this book, many clarifications about why I follow Christ, what is Godly, and reforming my faith to make it relevant.

After reading his books, I decided to check out some of his sermons on podcasts. His fresh take and deep insight on living for God along with his fresh look at God’s word consistently reached me in a way I hadn’t been in some time.

My wife and I had been unsuccessful in finding a place we could call our church home, and consistently found ourselves caught in the middle age range, seeing as how we were married in the 21-22 year stage of life and not just because I’d knocked her up (which I hadn’t, we decided to just bypass that mid-20s drifting dating limbo and tie the monotony knot).

So, we’d go to country church here and brimstone church there, and we’d walk away on Sunday mornings with nothing more than a desire to get to CiCi’s before a group of kids took all the delicious cinnamon rolls. During this time, while my wife would be in night class, I’d go running and listen to Rob Bell’s sermons. During our Church Tour ’08, I would’ve honestly considered him my church pastor, even though 80% of the time I can’t even spell Michegan.

So, I decided to place on my list, meeting the guy who unknowingly assisted in becoming one of my greatest spiritual mentors.

This little opportunity occurred this past year at a Christian leadership event entitled Catalyst. Rob Bell spoke, which solidified my attendance for my first appearance at the event. After speaking, Mr. Bell was signing and speaking with people outside.

My first thought was personal irritation that I had not brought my original copy of Velvet Elvis, with its notes and markings from the numerous times I read it. Oh, how fitting, the book that changed it all signed by the dude who wrote it. Nay, I decided to grab the only book of his I did not own, which happened to be an awkwardly large but fantastic book on creativity and destroying the box (you know, the thinking outside the box box). That sucker cost me 40 dang dollars that I could’ve bought a sweet moon looking Catalyst shirt with but I, whew, calm down boss.

So, I’m standing in line while he’s sitting up there just looking like it’s ridiculous that anyone would want him to sign anything. During my time in line, I just keep running through my head, should I try and be funny?

No, it’ll sound rehearsed and lame, be sincere.

Once again Francis (that’s what I call myself in my head, I feel like it’s more elegant), that’s lame.

Just be real.

Real stupid.

How about something witty or clever.

Just that easy.

Shutup.

You shutup.

Your mom.

Your mom too.

Screw it, I’m going serious. How about, You’re an inspiration to me and have guided me through what I feel is the most important aspect of how I view my Faith. I just want to thank you for that.

Nice monologue, Mary Catherine Gallager.

I hate your guts.

Makes sense.

I’m going with it.

Toolbag.

So finally it was my turn. I start to walk up and then suddenly…. he gets up and walks around the platform to address me.

Here’s one thing he didn’t mention in his sermons, he’s like 7 foot 15. Me, as a 6 foot ex-basketball player, had developed an immediate intimidation for people taller than me, due to the consistent mid-air deflections of my shots.

I froze.

He walked up, I just shook his hand…and stood there. That’s it.

He said, “Want my John Hancock?,” signed my book, and handed it back.

“Thank you,” was all I got out. Then I walked off.

In that brief full second after I said thank you and we both realized that I had officially frozen worse than Han Solo in The Empire Strikes Back, he kind gave me grin which said, All right, I guess that’s all you have to say. You’re very articulate and I’ll never

remember

this

encounter.

The moral of the story, I’m a tool.

Next time I’ll bring a trapper keeper. Cause if someone signs that, they have to be your bff.

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You ever met anyone famous?