Greg Surratt

Lost somewhere in NYC

The shack

As promised I will give my brief thoughts upon reading the Shack.  My reluctance to read it was fueled by the overwhelming number of invitations to do so.  There is a "curse driven part" of me, still under the redemption process, that resists rebels against anything that might be personally helpful to me that is recommended by too many people.  "You've got to..." translates in my brain to "no thanks, not going to happen".  That explains why I may be the last person in our church to read the hottest book of the year.  (My personal thanks goes out to the gracious, persistent friends who persevered...continue to pray for your friend/pastor who is still in process).

The story begins for me where lots of good stories do...in an airplane, on my way to speak somewhere, not particularly interested in engaging in lengthy conversation with the person next to me.  I finally loaded "The Shack" into my Kindle and settled in for a long flight to the West Coast.  I grunted a "hi" to the girl next to me, flicked on the power, and began to read.  Four hours later, just as the wheels touched down in Orange County, I finished the last chapter.  As we were waiting for our turn to exit the plane, the girl I had so graciously ignored asked me about my electronic reading device.  I enthusiastically explained what it was...the best thing since an iPod.  She was an avid reader so she was quite interested.

Just before she pulled her carry-on from the overhead compartment, she said, "I hate to seem nosy, but I saw you were reading "The Shack".  What did you think?"

Busted.

I thought the generic look of the plain white e-reader would shield my reading material from the general population...but obviously not.

"It was good", I answered, knowing that we didn't have time for much meaningful conversation, seeing that our turn to exit was just two rows away.

"Have you read it and did you like it?"

"I have", she replied.  "I didn't want too, but several of my friends kept giving me copies."

Where have I heard that before...she sounds like me.

"What was the basis of your reluctance?", I asked.

"I'm not a religious person, so, after reading the back cover, I thought...this looks like one of those Jesus books...not interested...but I started to read it and couldn't put it down", she said as she turned to move toward the front of the plane.  Several people walked past me as I struggled with an over-packed carry-on that was looking like it may become a permanent part of the overhead bin.

Uh-oh.  This was beginning to look like one of those God moments that I had missed by not being sensitive to His leading and maybe opening up a conversation on the flight.  Oh well...maybe next time.

But she waited for me in the terminal as I was looking for the baggage claim.  She obviously wanted to talk more about it.  I whispered a prayer and then asked her, "With you not being religious and all, how did reading this book impact you spiritually?"

"Good question" she said as she took a minute to think about that one. 

She said that she hadn't really thought about it in that way and she needed to explain that  while she wasn't really religious, she wasn't an agnostic either...she just had been turned off to Christianity and the church and such.  She had visited a Buddhist temple a few times, but she would probably classify herself as an irreligious spiritual seeker.

After thinking about my question, she said, "I think the book has opened me up to Christianity again. I'd never really seen Jesus in that way. How has it impacted you?"

I said, "I think it made me feel closer to God in some ways".

"Me too", she said, as we approached the baggage carousel.

At that point I realized that this conversation had evidently distracted me from remembering that I had carried a camera onto the plane that was no longer with me.  I quickly told her that I hoped she would find what she was seeking for, (and whispered a prayer that God would guide her in the process) and went on about my own journey in finding something that was lost.  If you knew me like Debbie does, you would know that that is the story of my life...in a state of perpetual searching for things I've lost.

The point?

The book was good...it's fiction not fact...it's about God revealing himself (herself?) to someone in a stuck place...it's about how God might work...not definite, but possible.  Theologically, I didn't see anything dramatically problematic...the author doesn't have a very high view of church...I think Jesus likes the church a little more than he would have you to believe.

I liked it...but who really cares?  If the book began the process of opening up a spiritual seeker, who would probably never hear a sermon from that pastor that she unknowingly shared a plane ride with, to the idea that God loves her and wants to have a relationship with her forever, what difference does it make whether I liked it or not?

I'd tell you that you should read it...but you might be like me...and that would force you to put it off for another month or two.

Hanging out with my friends

Books are my friends. My high school English Literature teacher would be shocked to hear that confession. Here are a few of the friends I've been hanging with this summer:

1. Charlatan: America's most dangerous huckster, the man who pursued him, and the age of flim flam by Pope Brock

Aside from having the longest title I've seen, it is a fascinating story about a "quack" doctor who took advantage of peoples desperation for wholeness and, in the process, almost became governor of Kansas, invented radio advertising, put country music on the map, and destroyed a bunch of peoples lives who put thier faith in his cures. (How's that for a run on sentence?)

I liked it for a couple of reasons. First, I'm a sucker for history wrapped around a good story. Second, the parallels to hucksterism in the church were frightening to me.

2. The Starfish and the Spider by Rod Beckstrom

This one is about the possibilities of a flat, borderless, reproducing organization. It studies how groups like al Qiada and the Aztecs survived against much more powerful enemies. I'm looking at this from the implications on small groups and church planting.

3. The Shack by William P. Young

I finally, somewhat reluctantly read this one. More on my impressions on this when I can get to a computer. (when will Apple allow bluetoothe keyboards for iPhone.

The most exciting thing for me? Each of these friends live on my Kindle. I'm in love.

Who are your friends this summer?

Mattresses for Jesus

I went out this morning with a team from the Dream Center, our North Charleston campus, for their monthly "Adopt a Block".  Thirteen teams of 4 or 5 people are committed to adopting one block each of the poorest, most dangerous parts of our city.  They've gone in and developed relationships and trust with people in the neighborhood and try to be the hands and feet of Jesus in a practical way.

This week the Marriott Hotel donated about eighty sets of mattresses and box springs, and the teams distributed them where they saw a need in their assigned block. 

The team I tagged along with gave out 4 sets, including one to a young guy who was living alone in a small apartment and was confined to a wheel chair.  One of the guys offered him a ride to church tomorrow and he seemed grateful that someone cared.

A prayer team sat up a "prayer tent" along the busy road in front of the Dream Center building and prayed with several people who stopped by.

This past Thursday they sponsored a youth rally in the parking lot...about 95 kids showed up and 26 of them responded to an invitation to receive Christ!  Very cool stuff.

Every week a team gives out clothing and food on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and to date they have given out over 40,000 meals in just the few short months that we've had the Dream Center going.  Way to go Sam and Joan and the team!!!

My role at Seacoast

Last night I spoke at the Long Point Campus 1st Wednesday service on my future at Seacoast.  I've talked to quite a few of my friends who are pastors who, quite frankly are struggling with current responsibilities, especially as it relates to speaking 4, 5 and six times on the weekend.

I cannot see a future for me...if things remain the same...but I have an idea...that may help not only people like me but others who do what I do.

I talked about it last night and you can watch it here.

Tearing up a church

Our Greenville campus will be moving into a new building later this summer, so some of our campus pastors and staff teams drove up to help them do a little demolition work on a very traditional church building.  Here's a few pics...way to go Chris and Jenny Surratt and team!

The first pitch blues...

I threw out the first pitch for a Charleston Riverdogs baseball game on Monday and I'm feeling a little down about it.

Here's what happened.  About five hundred Seacoast volunteers from some of the Charleston campuses gathered for hamburgers, hot dogs and a few encouraging words for the job they do each weekend, before yours truly opened the game for our NY Yankees single "A" farm team.

I was told that the worst thing that can happen when you throw out the first pitch, other than injuring a mascot, would be to bounce the ball before it reaches the catcher.  All day long, my friends were giving me some great advice..."Whatever you do, get it too the catcher"..."Don't pitch off the top of the mound, it will throw you off and you will never get it there"..."Be sure and warm up or you'll throw your arm out".

We're talking one pitch here...how tough can it be?

Apparently real tough.

About an hour before the game I paced off 60' 6" in a field next to the stadium and began to throw the ball to my son Joshua while our wonderful volunteers were basking in appreciation.  The early attempts were not pretty, but by the time we finished I was feeling a little more confident.  Josh said, "For the last warm-up pitch let's pretend like it's the bottom of the 9th, game tied, bases loaded, 2 outs, the count is 3 & 2, and you are the closer."  Surely throwing out the first pitch wouldn't carry as much pressure as the scenario he laid out for me.  I rared back and fired a fast ball (approximately 45 mph) over the middle of the imaginary plate...striking out the make believe batter, thus winning the game for the home team.  Now I'm ready for the real thing.  I feel like Kerry Wood.

I walked the quarter of a mile or so over to the stadium, down to the home dugout and prepared myself mentally for the moment of truth.  In just a few moments I would walk away from the mound in triumph.  My friends, my family, my church and my God would be proud of the effort I was about to put forth.  I had a game plan.  I've warmed up...I'm not pitching from the top of the mound...and no way am I bouncing it to the catcher.  Not only can I visualize world peace, but I can see the stadium erupting as I blaze a fastball down the middle.  You betcha...I'm ready.

Then things fell apart.

First, it seems that I am not the only one throwing out the first pitch.  In fact I would be throwing out the third pitch to be exact.  Ahead of me would be a girl celebrating her 21st birthday and a young boy about 10.  I'm not sure why he was throwing, but I was getting some bad vibes about the whole thing.  What if they do good and I stink the place up?  What if instead of bouncing it, mine looks more like a bowling ball headed for a gutter?  What if I go "Rick Ankiel" and throw it over the backstop?  Suddenly I'm visualizing things I don't want to see.

Next, the girl goes directly to the top of the mound...dressed to kill in 4 inch red high heels.  I'm going to have to scrap my friends advice about pitching from in front of the mound.  You can't do that if she's playing from the big boys spot...in high heels.  I'm praying she doesn't throw a strike. 

She doesn't ... but it doesn't really matter ... the catcher is enamored by her uniform.  I think he wants to be her friend.

After her comes the kid...doesn't wait for the announcer to give his name...just climbs to the top of the mound and promptly throws it almost over the catchers head.  No bouncing it for him.  I hear, "Great arm" from somewhere behind first base.  Never follow a kid, or an animal act...never...

Finally the announcer calls my name, "And now...Greg Surratt from Seacoast Church".  A hardy round of applause from the "volunteer" stacked crowd.  Even a few whistles and cheers.  "You can do it, Greg".  At that moment, standing at the top of the mound, I wasn't sure that I could.

I was right.

I'll spare you the gory details.  Let's just say that after the ball left my hand, it bounced pitifully about 10 feet in front of the plate, and nearly eluded the catcher as he dived 6 feet to his right to snag the only pitch of my baseball career.

The hot dogs were great, our friends were kind (mostly), my arm is sore, my ego bruised...but I think God still loves me.

Oh well, wait till next year...