Boooo...

Sometime during my sophomore or junior year of college, a small group of my friends decided it would be good if we regularly got together.  It started small, just a few guys.  Soon our group grew.  By the time we graduated college, we routinely crammed anywhere between 15 to 20 guys in one of our dorm rooms or college apartments.  We met every Thursday night at 10:00 pm.  We called it “Mantime.”

The name, as simple as it is, captures the essence of what this time was.  It was a time for college age men just to be.  We had no agenda, just conversation.  We conversed about a wide variety of topics, from the standard college male fare – girls, sports, and movies – to grander things like politics, theology, ethics, and the Christian life.  Nothing was off the table.  One of the hallmarks of Mantime was storytelling.  It seems impossible for a group of people to gather without telling stories of their experiences.  The telling of stories has a power to bring us together in ways that nothing else can.  There were, of course, good storytellers and not so good storytellers.  Josh was one of the best.  His ability to relate an experience with power and humor always astounded me.  It also usually left us breathless from laughter. 

While Josh’s stories always entertained us, mine did not.  Historically, I have not been a captivating storyteller.  Often when I reached the conclusion of a story, my audience was left wondering what the point was.  Or worse yet, where the ending was.  I imagine that I had interjected enough of my well meaning, but unconnected stories, into our Mantime discussion that my friends grew a bit weary.  Mark, one of my dear friends, an individual who is fully devoted to the well-being and happiness of his friends, had enough.  One night, as I concluded a story, Mark suddenly burst forth with a loud, “Boooooo!”  His displeasure at my shoddy storytelling had been announced.  It wasn’t long before the entire group of Mantime attendees would boo at the conclusion of my stories. 

Today, I am a much better storyteller.  I’m not perfect.  I sometimes fail to make connections or endings, and if I saw Mark on a more regular basis he would probably still boo me.  But this isn’t really about telling stories.  It’s about the ability of our community, those with whom we daily walk through life, to influence the direction and course of our lives.  Without those guys, I would not be who I am today.  Even though we are now separated by many miles, their influence still holds sway.  It’s not that I’m constantly thinking “how would Rick do this?” but the stories we shared, the experiences we lived, the issues with which we wrestled are held deep within me.  For this, I am extremely grateful. 

I was ordained this last Monday night as an Elder in The Church of the Nazarene.  Events like these tend to make us step back and examine our lives and how we got to where we are.  It was in that reflection that I think so fondly of those guys gathered together on Thursday nights to share life.  So, thanks.  Thanks for helping me become who I am. 

Oh, and please don’t boo after you read this.