Snapshots from the Onething Conference

I was supposed to post this last week but I haven’t been in a blogging mood lately. My Onething experience can be summed up as: I survived.

Not many things stood out to me over the days of the conference, just a few images and encounters.

Literal snapshots

I didn’t have much time for pictures during this conference, but they’re all here (all four of them ).

Figurative snapshots

I ran into a few people who made an impression on me during the conference.

Girl on the shuttle

I was going home on the shuttle, I think on the first night I worked. A young-looking girl sat down beside me. We didn’t speak. She kept fooling with her phone, flipping it up and down, calling a few people. I dismissed her with faint mental scorn as just another phone-obsessed teenager. I put my headphones in and settled back for the ride home. As the shuttle neared IHOP, she turned to me and said, “Excuse me, can I talk to you?”

I pulled out my headphones and looked at her. She was older than I’d thought. She said her name was Ashley. “I’ve been avoiding this the whole ride,” she admitted, “but … I feel like the L-rd wants me to pray for you and speak words of life over you.”

Surprised, I reflexively said, “Okay, sure!” Ashley’s prayer for me was simple and short, but very encouraging. I had needed to hear the truths she reaffirmed to me. I went home feeling blessed that the L-rd had spoken to me in that way—and grateful that she had been obedient to the Holy Spirit.

Guy in parking lot

Either that same night or the next, I had ridden the shuttle again back to the missions base after working the conference. I was tired and still sick and was not happy to find that it had snowed during the day. I wearily started scraping the snow and ice off my car. As I chipped at my windshield, suddenly I heard a male voice near me say, “Wow, here’s a surprise!”

I was quite startled. I hadn’t though anyone else was around, hadn’t heard him come up behind me. I whirled around, saw him grinning at me, noticed his hand pointing toward me and threatening me with some sort of object. I gripped my scraper like a weapon … and could not think of what to do or say next.

My conscious mind was churning helplessly, completely blank. The panic I felt was a result of my subconscious mind’s running analysis of the situation: it’s icy underfoot and he has the higher ground; we’re hemmed in by cars, so my only escape is down the slippery hill behind me; I’m parked at the very edge of the parking lot and if I shout for help what are the odds of anyone hearing me; I’m holding the end with the brush toward him, now that isn’t going to hurt him at all, and anyway if I try to hit him the extending handle is broken, so I’d probably hit myself in the face; should I drop the scraper and rush him empty-handed—

At that point, my mind began to overcome my fear: I saw that he wasn’t holding the “surprise” of a weapon; he was holding his keys in his hand. The words he’d said ran through my mental processor again. I realized he had said, “Wow, there’s some ice, huh?”

“Oh … yeah … it’s a little icy,” I finally managed to reply. The man was still smiling at me, but now in a puzzled sort of way. I was still pointing the scraper in his direction. After a moment, I lowered it and said, “Sorry. This is not a nice neighborhood; can’t be too careful.”

He made understanding noises and retrieved his own scraper. I finished clearing off the snow and got into my car as quickly as possible. I was shaking as I drove away. That brain freeze could’ve been deadly if he hadn’t been friendly. I resolved to do more self-defense visualization and get back to jujitsu as soon as the conference was over.

Customer at the booth

I met a lot of people while working the booth. The one I remember most was an older man, probably in his sixties or seventies. He wore a baseball cap that proclaimed “I love Jesus Christ.” He had a speech impediment and possibly some mental retardation, and one of his eyes didn’t move, and as he stood there and talked to me about how much he loved Jesus, I wanted to cry. He had only been saved for about four or five years, but he loved his Savior with simplicity and a vibrant faith. He wanted to subscribe to the Limited Edition. “Revival is coming,” he said with simple assurance. “I really support what you’re doing.” I signed him up for the LE and watched him go with a lump in my throat. I wish I had run after him and prayed for him. He truly was precious.

Happy freaking New Year

I made it to the last two or three hours of The Call. Misty Edwards’ team did a two-hour worship set. That really was a blessing for my dry heart. Then Jason Upton closed out The Call and brought us into the New Year with some children’s songs and anecdotes about his children. I was sitting there thinking, Seriously, it is one minute to midnight and the man is rambling on and on about his kids, which, they sound like cute kids, but this is the end of a day-long solemn assembly and shouldn’t we be praying or something, not singing lame songs, and man is our senior leadership a bunch of un-self-conscious dorks—Mike, Dwayne and Lou were all up there dancing with the kids—and then it was midnight. I left as soon as everyone finished cheering and Jason launched into another song. I ran down the escalator, determined to beat the thousands of other people to the shuttle, and dove into a seat on an rapidly-filling bus. So it was that I spent the first few minutes of 2008 shivering on a shuttle, watching people stream out of Bartle Hall in the glow of the nearby Marriott’s lights, and feeling annoyed at the lame ending to 2007.

“Happy freaking New Year,” I muttered.

I think it will get better from here. 2008 will be an interesting year.