Blooper Reel

I love infomercials.  Seriously, I find them very entertaining and at times inspiring.  I actually have an appreciation for the people who strive to invent things to make our lives easier. 

In some ways I think that’s part of the job description for pastors and their families.  We take scripture and Biblical principles and we try to present it in a way that is relevant and enticing.  But, sometimes things aren’t communicated in the way we envisioned.  Below is one of my favorite stories of a church service gone wrong.  This piece was written by our good friend Sean Mitchell.  It is his account of exactly what happened on an Easter Sunday a few years ago. 

Ladies and Gentlemen I now present the Blooper Reel!

The Easter I Became A Roman Soldier Hero 

I was playing a Roman soldier in Masters Commission’s annual Easter production at Glad Tidings. I was supposed to be asleep after the angel of the Lord touched my shoulder, but it was my time to be remembered as the Roman soldier who saved the congregation from utter peril. 

I do not remember what year it was, but it was Master’s Commission’s (MC) Easter performance that we had been preparing for a couple of weeks. The stage was coming together as lighting and props fell into place. The cast was carefully rehearsing each part. Victor Castillo and I were Roman soldiers—our job was to stand guard at the spray painted Styrofoam tomb, covered with moss taken from a tree in the church parking lot. 

It was an early morning on performance day. I can remember that the first performance went off without a hitch. Jesus successfully fed the multitudes, healed the lame, forgave the sins of many, was crucified, buried, and resurrected during the nine o’clock service—one performance down, one more to go. 

There was a scurried rush to get props and people back into place before the 11 o’clock service. Victor and I, were rehearsing our part at the tomb with Brian Brooks (Brooks), the angel of the Lord. Just before I went back behind stage, Bryan Morrison (Morrison), a very southern, jolly, limp-strolling lighting and sound technician decided to add flash string around the stone coving the tomb (something that should have never been done without testing before the performance). The string was to sparkle and flash around the circumference of the tomb for added dramatic effect before Brooks rolled it away. It was almost prophetic-like, the way Morrison explained that he placed a fire extinguisher inside the tomb for any unexpected situations. 

It was Jesus’ time to come out of the tomb as the resurrected Son of God, ending the Passion Week performance with a bang (or perhaps ‘flash’ would be more appropriate). Victor and I were stoically guarding the tomb when Brooks gently touched our shoulders to put us asleep. At that moment, the flash string began to travel around the back of the circular stone. About halfway around the tomb, the sparkling flash string ignited the moss sitting on the tomb. Suddenly, a typical Easter performance began to heat up. Brooks stood steadfastly next to the now open tomb as an unexpected fire began to rage. Jesus, not knowing what was happening outside of the flammable tomb, came out of the tomb in glory, and fire. 

“Brooks, Brooks,”  I yelled, hoping that he would recognize that four feet away was an increasingly large inferno. Almost instinctively I rose from my Roman soldier slumber, rushed into the tomb, grabbed the fire extinguisher, came out, put out the fire, put the extinguisher back inside the tomb, and laid back down to continue my part. 

The show went on and the congregation stayed despite the smoky atmosphere. Minus the fiery tomb, we finished a very memorable performance—and no, we did not save the half charred Styrofoam tomb. I would presume that tomb has found a home at the local Austin landfill. To this day, my MC alumni friends and I still laugh at the Easter I became a Roman soldier hero.

For more informaion on Sean and his fabulous wife Heidi, check out her website at http://www.hmitchellsalon.com/bio/.

 

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Stuck at KFC

This is how Barry and I passed the time when we were stuck in the drive thru of KFC for an exceptionally healthy dinner a while back.  Actually, we were headed to a costume party and this is what we decided to bring as our “pot luck” dish…since I can’t cook and we didn’t want to be blamed for making anyone sick. 

We sat in line for 20 minutes.  I’m not kidding, it took forever.  So, in an effort to entertain ourselves we had a contest to see who could make the craziest face and take a picture of it.  Then the other person had to attempt to make the same face.  I was sitting in the back seat trying to keep the baby entertained as well.  Just in case you are wondering why the seat belts are on the same side.   We ended up laughing so hard…it was worth waiting almost half an hour for deep fried, clog the arteries chicken.  Here are a few of the out takes: 

Yes…we are definitely youth pastors!

The Show Must Go On…Sometimes

This is for anyone who has made a complete fool of themselves for the sake of the ministry.  This has no spiritual meaning; I just thought it would be fun to have a good laugh together.

The end of the day was drawing closer.  One more outreach and then we could all go back to the church.  I was tired and ready for a warm meal and some much needed rest.  The air outside was brisk so I pulled my jacket tight around my shoulders.  My thoughts drifted as I looked through the crowd.  I smiled to myself.  After months of preparation we were finally in England.  Hundreds of support letters and countless hours of drama practice had all paid off.   I was overwhelmed with excitement as teenagers began gathering together to see what we were doing.  I looked around, hoping to make eye contact with Barry.  I knew he would be just as thrilled as I was about the turnout.  As I focused on the faces in the crowd I quickly realized I was the only American around, the rest of the team members were no where in sight.    I started making my way back to the stage when I heard the music.  The drama team was about to perform one of my favorite skits.  My husband, who can grow facial hair on demand was playing Jesus.  I had to get close enough to take pictures.  As he stood there in his handmade costume he looked like a cross between Miss America and a homeless man. 

While the drama unfolded, the crowd responded wonderfully.  They were laughing and enjoying every moment of the performance.   I was overjoyed as I scanned the crowd, soaking in the smiling faces and then I saw him… standing off in the distance talking to a crowd of people.  Joel!  He was supposed to be in the final scene of the skit.  And not just any scene…it was a carefully choreographed fight scene.  I started yelling and waving my arms, trying desperately to get his attention.  Nothing was working, so in a moment of panic I ran up to the stage and began throwing punches.  Mind you I was dressed in my favorite jeans, a cute wool coat and some adorable leather boots and there I was, swinging my fist at our team leader and fearless actor Sean.  I can still see the look on his face.  I know it took everything within him to keep his composure…I totally took him by surprise.  And then there was Barry, in his Jesus costume, standing at the foot of the stage doubled over in laughter as he watched me aimlessly swing and kick with all my might.   

I still wonder what the people in the crowd were thinking when I bolted up onto the stage in a frenzy, dropping church flyers as I ran.  There is no doubt in my mind that whatever ministry could have happened in the lives of the English bystanders that day was forfeited by my less than Oscar-winning performance.  They probably walked away laughing at the crazy American girl and hoping that I wouldn’t follow after them, waving flyers and asking them to come to church with me.  

Barry and I still laugh about that day in England.  It is one of our favorite ministry experiences together.  But I must admit, if it were to happen again…I would have no problem keeping my hands to myself. 

It’s true, the show must go on.  But, in my opinion, sometimes it’s best to let the men throw the punches.