Faces in firelight
We were in the hills just beyond Desoto, Kansas. It's not flat like the fertile ground further west. It's working its way there: some things grow here.
It was late October 2016, and the grass had turned golden brown with the crisp air. But it was warm around the campfire we'd built to end our church Men's Retreat.
I'm shocked I was there. Most of the faces around this campfire were strangers to me. I arrived in Kansas City in February. The first church I tried refused to sing "The wrath of God was satisfied" in the song In Christ Alone, so I left. Well, that's why I say I left. Really, it's because I was the only person I knew under 30 (I'm not wild about the wrath of God, but I have my reservations about trying to pretend it doesn't exist).
Then I tried a Presbyterian-ish church but got in without anyone noticing me. I sat on the balcony, doubting my salvation because that's what I do around Presbyterians (because, you know, the wrath of God).
In July, I'd just moved out to Lenexa, googled churches, and this one had a coffee shop, which I assumed meant young people, too. The first Sunday I showed up, the pastor talked about how God calls a man out of his comfort zone to grow him. It could be getting married. It could be going to college. Or it could be taking a job in a city far from your home and your loved ones. Ok, I'm listening. So I went back.
I was on the men's retreat because someone invited me. And I looked around at those faces around the campfire. On this night, I don't know many of them, but I will soon.
There's Jared, the only other man I knew. I played a Dire Straits song on a guitar at a small group meet-n-greet, and he'd said, "Was that Sultans of Swing?" It was, and we became friends. Soon, we will be roommates.
There's Josh, an architect who sings in the worship band and will invite me to see movies and have dinner with him and his wife. They both are architects, so their home is beautiful. I spent a lot of Friday nights by myself before I met Josh.
There's Don. He speaks like a Midwesterner. Don loves having friends over to play basketball. We'd grill out on the back deck and watch the sunset by the pond behind his house. He'd tell us how often he'd tried to get the algae out of it, but the neighbors were never on board.
There's Dan, who will want to ensure this Cub fan in Kansas City doesn't have to watch Games 6 and 7 of the World Series alone. So he invited me to Tanner's Bar and Grill, and we watched what will always be the greatest sports moment of my life.
There's Jeff with his American flag headband on. He's the kind of man who will load his family up and travel across the country in an RV called the Asgard Express. And when I needed a place to live, Jeff would offer a room in his house and a place in his family (I never went on the Asgard Express; there are these stupid things called jobs. Yeah, I'm disappointed in myself).
Jeremy is doing that smirk he does, which I will find both endearing and annoying. He's a Man United fan, and I still don't know what to make of that. But he'll also patiently listen over everything from Sushi to Barbecue.
And there's Brian, the pastor. He's the first pastor to invite me to play golf and consider that Jesus loves me where I am. I'll start a few rounds hooking my 3-iron and carrying weighty anxieties. Brian will ease my worries without saying anything (I never stopped hooking the 3-iron).
And there's Russell, who invited me to the retreat. He and I will sit over many drinks at Blackdog Coffeehouse and talk about the Chiefs, my lack of a dating life, and the goodness of God.
In a year and a half, Russell will baptize me on a Sunday morning in January. Brian and Jeff will be on a mission trip in Poland but will get up at 4 a.m. to watch. Don will be in the audience smiling. And Jared will be at a new job in Colorado, but I'll call him soon to tell him about it. And Josh and Dan will rush backstage to hug me while I'm still soaking wet.
I don't remember many sermons from my time at that church, but I remember these faces around the campfire in the hills where some things still grow.
Black dog coffee house! Love that place.