May 28, 2001
CYBERCOLUMN:
Where are those keys?
___By Brett Younger
___When you move to a new place, you hope that the new people will think you’re smarter and more together than you really are--or at least smarter and more together than the people at the old place thought you were. I recently moved from Waco to Fort Worth and saw it as a chance to leave behind every time I’ve spilled tea, mispronounced a name or lost my keys.
___Sunday morning a week ago, I got out of Ben Johnson’s Toyota Forerunner. Ben, a high school student at my new church, had graciously loaned me his car. (It may have beenhis parents that offered the car; that’s unclear.)
BRETT YOUNGER
___I locked the car door and walked into the church. I decided to leave most of my keys in the desk, but carefully took the office key--in case the door was locked when I came back. (I’m a careful person.) After worship, I went by the Committee on Committees’ meeting just long enough to justify eating their pizza and consider suggesting a Committee on the Committee on Committees.
___When I returned to the aforementioned Forerunner, I had every key except one. This was confusing to me, because I’m a careful person. I checked the key ring 10 times. I looked under the car. I walked slowly back to my office staring at the pavement, the floor, the stairs. I emptied my pockets and turned them inside out.
___I finally had to admit that I had to admit to one of the new people--one of the ones I hoped would think I’m smart--that I had lost a key. I called the Johnsons’ and explained that I am a careful person, but that something mysterious, almost unbelievable, had happened and their key was missing. There was no need for this to be blown out of proportion or for anybody else to hear about it.
___Cindy, Ben’s mother, said that she would talk to Roland, Ben’s father, and that I should talk to Ben. Now at least three people were going to think that I am the kind of person who loses car keys--which I am not.
___I found Ben just as choir practice ended: "Ben, you don’t know me that well, but I’m not the kind of person that loses car keys. Nonetheless, in this baffling world unexplainable things happen. Please tell me that you have a key to your car and end my shame." Ben thought there might be one at home. I began to believe that an intruder had stolen the key. Ben later called to say that I had lost the only key in existence.
___On Monday morning, I realized that I would now have to beg for rides and explain to lots of people that I lost a car key. At staff meeting, the minister of youth suggested that I "retrace my steps"--a helpful, insulting suggestion. I retraced my steps and found the key underneath my desk where, apparently, I had kicked it--though it could have been an intruder.
___I have thought about this episode way too much (and am amazed at your willingness to read this much) and have decided that I am, after all, the kind of person who loses car keys. I’ve also realized that I was wrong to hide my lack of togetherness.
___The church is the first place where we need to admit that we lose our keys. One of the basic requirements to being a community of grace is admitting that we aren’t as smart and together as we wish. That’s what makes us the church. Being lost is how we got here.
___Brett Younger is pastor of Broadway Baptist Church in Fort Worth.
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