a new book Hometown Prophet

Being the Original NonProfitProphet, a book titled Hometown Prophet was sure to get my attention. Its by Jeff Fulmer of Tennessee and is a work of fiction centered around the central character "Peter" who is kind of drifting in life, has had some letdowns, and has returned home to live with his mother and is beating himself up about his seemingly "Loser" life. Not wanting to give the book away, he begans to have a series of "visions" or "dreams" that come true, but sometimes being a prophet (don't I know it) is tough work. *See Bible for how they were mostly treated, stoned, fed to lions, etc. Being a prophet involves being a truth teller, even if the truth isn't what people really want to hear. Though this book centers more on prophetic dreams that come true, a lot of the job of a prophet is to see through the politics, the haze, the B.S. as we call it here in the States, and call it like it is. And this character plays the part of the relunctant prophet because it is tough, and who really wants to be that guy? There is good character development, it is relevant to hot topics of the day concerning immigration, environment, pastorial egos and church politics, differing styles of religion, a love angle, and is written well enough where it keeps you engaged in the story for the entire 300plus pages. My wife even read this book and she typically does not read my books. It needed a little editorial work as there were several places where the wrong words were left in or double typed that was a bit distracting, but overall I would recommend this book as a good read, not terribly taxing on the brain, but gives a good story. It is a fairly believable story that could just possibly happen in the present day - even though modern day prophets (like myself) are seeminly rare. If you read it, let me know your thoughts. ~npp

a day in the life of the prophet

So I'm camping yesterday with my lubberly lil' family at one of the State Parks when my eyeglass frames break. Fun times. I am officially a dork now with one ear piece missing and the glasses perched upon my nose held only in place by the other ear piece.

So off I go to the place where I purchased them to get another frame and we decide to go to the local chinese food place for lunch. I'm wearing my normal weekend camping attire, a pair of cargo shorts and a black t-shirt from my good friend's faith community (Journey IFC) and my gold chain with my United Methodist cross hanging from it. While I'm eating, an older fella with his company logo shirt comes in the door and our eyes meet. Somehow we seem to connect as we look at each other, and then he goes to another part of the restaurant. A little later on I'm interupted by the words, "Excuse me sir." Holding an egg roll in one hand and a mouth full of something that looks like chicken, I look up and its this same guy. He says to me, "Thank you for wearing that cross". I respond with something stupid I'm sure, like "Thanks" or "your welcome" or something, and he says, "I appreciate that". And its not the "politician smiling suck up way" of saying something, it was the "sincere somber I've got a story" way of saying something. So he turns and walks out of the restaurant. I resist the urge to follow him outside, due to my family being with me, but would really have loved to hear his story. To see where he is in his life. There was something there.

We leave and go to the place where I bought my glasses and they don't carry that frame anymore. I call the eye doctor and he loves me so much he works me in so I can get a new exam. We drive over and I walk in the lobby and have a seat. My family goes elsewhere. A lady in her 50s walks in and sets in the lobby as well. Just she and I. She looks over at me and asks, "Is that a United Methodist cross" and I replied yes. Thats all it took. She opened up like the flood gates of the Hoover Dam and begin telling me how her grandparents were the charter members of some baptist church in another community, how she had been a Baptist for 50 plus years of her life but is now going to one of the local United Methodist churches. I said "good for you" and she kept on... I was a Baptist for 50 plus years until I got a divorce. Then I was treated differently because I was divorced. This lady also had a story to tell and I listened. We talked about judgement of others and how different she now felt with a grace filled theology instead of the one she had grown up with. She said she wished she had known this earlier in her life because she actually liked to go to the casinos, have some wine and dance every now and then. I told her it was a beautiful thing that she was a recovering baptist and she replied "I'm recovered!". I tried to explain there was no such thing as a "recovered baptist", that its a process like AA, you are always in recovery, and she just laughed. She said she now teaches a sunday school class and thoroughly loves it. She wasn't allowed to at her Baptist church it sounded like.

She asked me if I had read "The Shack". Wow, yes I had read it and it was a good read. She said she was reading it now but some of her Baptist friends said it was heresy. We both agreed those folks would probably have a rude awakening when and if they actually met god. Then the lady who worked there spoke up and said she was reading it for the second time. It went on like this for a while until they called me into the exam room. I gave the lady the name of a book to read that lets her know its okay to be human, "Messy Spirituality" and she had me write it down on a piece of paper. I have no doubt she drove down the street to the book store and bought it. This lady, in her 50s, was all on fire with finally getting the chance to figure out who she is and what she believes and what God wants of her.

It was totally cool.

And this happens to me all the time. Another day in the life of the nonprofitprophet.

And that is cool as well.

This mornings time with God

I awoke at at 7:30 this morning to sunshine and 64 degrees. As is my custom, I get up, throw some shorts and a t shirt on, grind some Eight O'Clock coffee beans and brew a pot of java. I get my materials together that I am teaching over and either set at the dining room table or go outside to the patio table.
This morning was a patio table morning.
I am going to talk about what "authentic" worship is as opposed to what we have made it. I am using an article from "Relevant" magazine for info, and also Isaiah where he talks about people "professing with their lips while denying with their lifestyle" and Jesus' reference to this in Matthew.
So I'm reading the bio of Isaiah, about how the prophets (so you see why this interests me) are placed by God but no one listens (sound familiar?). Isaiah, turns out, didn't seek to be a prophet either, but hey, God doesn't always seem to care what one wants to do. So off goes Isaiah, propheting away and no one listening. But generations later, lots of folks are listening. I guess its like an artist whose work isn't appreciated while they are alive and penniless, but sells for millions years after their death. Go figure.
So I am setting there, in my shorts and t shirt, drinking coffee and reading about Isaiha, when a gentle breeze envelopes me, surrounds and comforts me and causes me to feel the presence of God. It was a sustained breeze that searched me out, covered my ever contour and brought me into communion. I closed my eyes and took it all in, thanking God for the moment.
The breeze stopped as it had started. Slowly and completely. I had my time with God, now I'm going to go share it with others. Like Isaiah,they may not listen, but I'm going to speak it anyway. ~npp