This entry was written just 2 weeks after the restraining order was placed in effect, approximately 10 and a half months ago and only a few weeks after moving into the ministry home.
‘Fun City’ is the local movie theater here. From the outside, the building appears to be hiding the fact that there is a “city” of “fun” behind its super inconspicuous walls. Looking like an old, shut down department store that’s been repurposed into, maybe a hardware store, it’s hiding a lot inside and its looks are deceiving. After an incredibly enamoring movie that truly displayed the child-likeness that God desires (romancing me into an incredibly beautiful experience), I meandered (with much curiosity as to what’s next) through the available halls of Fun City. Laser tag chiming from one end of the hall, while other joyful noise echoed from the arcade and bowling alley at the other end.
I looked through every window that I found, read every poster, and explored everything the public was allowed access to. Finding (interesting things, but) nothing really inviting, I chose to join the other men at a table in the bowling lane area. (I tried writing, but only a true “nerd” writes in a place called “Fun City.”)
A few guys and I spit a bit of rough-shod conversation before I noticed a very small sign taped to the top of a bowling pin, sitting on the counter. It read “Bowling pins $1 each.”
I looked away after pondering how good of a deal that was.
I looked back.
Hmmm… $1? “A bowling pin is surely worth much more than that,” I thought.
I sat a bit longer. The idea was nagging me, but why do I need a bowling pin? One last turn to look and I was sold. I’ll buy one!
At first, I reasoned to give it as a gift to a fellow brother who hadn’t joined us that evening. Nevertheless, I made my adventure to purchase said pin.
“So $1 a pin?” I asked Shawntray.
I asked a few more unimportant questions before I finally told her I’d buy one.
“Is there a difference between them? Does it matter…? Um…” stuttering at what I was trying to calculate with my questions.
“Can I pick one out?” was the one I liked to get to, and sure enough, was the money maker for God’s idea, and what He had in store.
‘Tray,’ as she introduced herself, began to lead me down a hall I had previously explored on my own, but had stopped, rather begrudgingly, at a sign that posted, “Employees only.” Except with Tray, I was led past this sign. This lit me up inside as I, like a little kid with unfettered glee, saw an opportunity to see more than any man I came with.
Immediately beyond the sign were out of order gaming machines and tools laying about as if someone had been in the throws of repairing them but were called, quickly away to address a fountain soda issue or something of the like. We continued.
Past an active kitchen on the left, (who’d have known!?) through a line of freezers, down a hall, even deeper into the “no-longer-hardware-store” looking building. We passed by the workings of the pin setters, behind the alleys, and came to a set of doors. She pulled at the bungy cord holding them shut and the doors teetered open.
The room we entered, with two bar height chairs sandwiching a tall end table holding an ashtray immediately as we walked in, smelled royally like mildew, but was large, like a warehouse. More busted machines, big gaylords of …”who knows what,” piled with what looked like scrap metal signage on top, sat sporadically throughout the room. But it was actually very spacious.
She led me to the “backest” back corner where the boxes upon boxes of old bowling pins sat.
I was processing it all as fast as possible, soaking in to memory all that I could experience. (I must have seemed like a butterfly with no idea which flower to land on first.)
The pins all looked similar. Knowing Tray had lots of other things to attend to, I sheathed my imagination for a moment to pick the first… no, second…okay well, third pin I picked up. (They really were just typical pins, nothing different standing out.) As we walked back through the double doors, and back into the employees hallway, we stopped as she re-hooked the bungy to the doors.
Coming back to my awareness, I gained control of my excitement.
“Do you believe in Jesus?” I asked Shawntray.
“Oh absolutely.” She confessed.
She proceeded in letting me in on some of her experiences in buying the bowling alley now called Fun City.
I handed her the 4 quarters and we parted.
Now I had a bowling pin, and what’s more in value, a really neat experience and story of Shawntray.
I saw God in all of this. I carried the pin, happily, the rest of the night.
To my surprise, there was more of the building in the other direction. A bar, then another bar. Then the guys headed into the pool hall.
Upon returning home, still gleeful of my romance with Yahweh, my Abba, Creator of life and love, I set my pin near my bed. Every time I was asked “how’d you get a bowling pin?” I lavished the story of the experience of getting it, not the value of a deal for a now worthless item. Each time I saw a little bit of intrigue in a man’s face, the value grew. Frankie, a gentleman in the ministry with us, thought it quite cool. I enjoyed sharing the story with him.
Today, I met Kendrick and Kazarus, (pronounced Kazarius) age 7 and 8. We played football and a little soccer as I ran around in a tie and long sleeves in 80 degree weather for a Saturday, outdoor revival. We exchanged names in the van on the way back home. (They spend some weekends in the home with their uncle, the driver of said van.)
Kendrick, as I lay on the bunk, after showering for the day, enters our room.
“Can I have some change?” he cried.
I thought…
“Give me a good enough reason, and I’ll give you what I have.”
He walked away for a bit, after quipping back with futile answers, but returned once again with his brother.
Kazarus liked the bowling pin. As I attempted to tell the story, their child-like attention and curiosity changed the outcome. Instead of talking about Shawntray and her fiancé leaving town for Jesus and buying an arcade, we began learning about the two boys. I proceeded to ask a lot of unanswerable questions, doubling back and changing them as I saw confusion or disinterest in what I asked, Kazarus swinging the pin back and forth as we spoke.
I learned a lot about them. Then I got an idea.
“How about, I give you some change and next time you go to Fun City, you buy a bowling pin?”
“YEAH!!” Kendrick celebrated. As I opened the lid on the jar of change, I mentioned to them to ask Tray if they could pick one out. And that they should pay attention and they’ll see how the back of a bowling alley works.
They both agreed happily.
I felt another tug from the Holy Spirit.
“How about you take this one?” I pointed to Kazarus and the pin he held, now, nestled on the back of his neck.
Even more excitement ensued. The boys both joyously left the room after thanking me.
Then Kendrick returned. And gave me a hug.
Then Kazarus came in, and gave me a hug. Then he handed me 4 quarters, that I was disallowed to refuse.
All of this amusement, insight and enjoyment, and all of it for a dollar.
God is actually the one writing this story, I’m just holding the pen.
–Home–
From Death to Life 
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