Somewhere, buried deep in the lost piles of artifacts from my parent’s house, was a cassette of great historical significance. Recorded on that scratchy old piece of plastic, labeled with masking tape and magic marker, were the voices of myself, Carl Green, Mark Lehman, and maybe a few other kids from the neighborhood hosting a radio show under the blanket fort in my basement. We were in third grade. I don’t remember the content of the show, other than a lot of giggling and the song Mandy by Barry Manilow. I’m sure it was compelling radio. It’s a shame it has been lost forever.
This was my second radio show. The first one went by the call letters W.I.G (“wig wig wig WIGGY!”) in which my cousin Clay and I created imaginary fights in the studio with my Grandma’s pots and pans. It exclusively featured the music of Elton John. (See Elton)
In 5th grade, Mark Lehman and I recorded a book report for school. We read dramatic excerpts from the cold war thriller, Fail Safe. I remember thinking I was edgy for reading the line “There’s just too much damn faith in the system.” A regular Clark Gable, I was.
Fast forward two whole years to 7th grade, in which I took Mr. Petro’s multi-media assignment in English far too seriously, spending weeks taking pictures of our family ski trips and putting together a slide show to the song Reign O’er Me by The Who. When I say slide show, I mean slide show. I put the song on a cassette and the slides in the carousel and practiced clicking the projector in exact time so that the descending slopes matched the falling riffs of Pete Townshend and raspy rants of Roger Daltrey. I have to say, given the technology I had to work with, it was spectacular.
Do you see the thread?
In college, with no real idea of what I wanted to do, I followed that thread to a degree in Communication Arts, taking advantage of the small college opportunities to host my own radio show and call play-by-play for football and basketball games. I still have most of those games on cassettes in the attic somewhere. I’ll leave them for my biographers.
One summer, I spent my evenings learning to write copy and edit sports highlights for WJAC TV in Johnstown.
A few years later, I was working for Hershey Free Church as Communications Director. For the church’s 20th Anniversary, Bill Hunking and I put together an impressive multi-media show recounting the history of the church. Bill was a gifted photographer who knew how to create 3-screen shows like they used to have in middle school assemblies. He programmed them through a tiny computer that looked like a label maker. I brought the vision, the story board, the music selection, and the willingness to stay up all night making it perfect. (My wife says we made a dove fly across the screens. I don’t remember that – it must have been Bill’s idea. It also must have been extraordinarily cool.)
Also in the 90s, someone working for the Pittsburgh Pirates came up with the brilliant idea to open a “Fantasy Play-by-Play” booth at Three Rivers Stadium. My sister-in-law Wendy got a whole game in the booth through work, and I ended up with three innings all to myself. For one afternoon, I was the Gunner or Lanny. (Look it up; it’s a Pittsburgh thing.) Other than the fact that I messed up the score at the end, it would have served as a decent demo if they’d been hiring.
In subsequent years, I wrote and produced skits for church services, recorded children’s books for nieces and nephews, performed first-person sermons at our church, created a talent show for the church called Acts of God, made a video for my parent’s 50th Anniversary (thanks for the slides, Dad), made highlight shows for my sons’ sports banquets, instituted the ridiculous “View Follies” for our annual retreat, and produced dozens of youth group recap reels, retreat promotions, and senior banquet videos.
All that creative energy and production skill culminated with the Youth Ministry Sherpas, a podcast I developed with my good friend Mathew McCabe. We made over 200 episodes and became semi-famous in the unimpressively niche world of youth ministry.
Whether from modesty real or false, people often say, “I hate the sound of my voice.” Is it vain to admit I like the sound of mine?
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about this recently—this thread of “producing stuff” that has run through my life from childhood until now. I’ve always known it was there, and yet it’s cool to be able to define it—the ability, no, THE NEED to create, record, produce—specifically, things that are “show” or “project” oriented.
This is my thread. I think I’m good at it.
There are so many things I’m not good at.
I’m not an artist. I can’t draw or paint or sculpt a work of art out of soup cans and hub caps. I can’t build a house like my dad, or sew a dress like my mom, or make music like my sons. I can’t fix a car to save my life. I’m not great with little kids. I can’t code software or repair a broken refrigerator or sell snow to Eskimos like some of you. I hate nursing homes and would never work in one. I’m a lousy counselor for a pastor. And heaven knows, I would rather cut off my big toe with a plastic knife than be a senior pastor and lead elder meetings. (If you’ve ever seen me at one of those meetings, well, let’s just say my face gives away the internal pain I’m experiencing.)
There are many, many things I could never do. But there is something I love to do, maybe even was made to do. I am a creative, made to make shows. It has led me to the destiny God embedded in me. At times it has benefited the church; and at times was just for my own satisfaction. But it was always from God.
It's my thread. I am grateful for it.
You have a thread, too—the recurring theme of your life. I hope you know what it is. If you don’t, spend the time and energy to bring it into the light. Trace your history. Think about your passions. What do you always come back to? What brings you life? Maybe it’s tied to your vocation, but perhaps not. John Mark Comer says it this way, “Calling isn’t something you choose, like who you marry or what house you buy or what car you buy; it’s something you unearth. You excavate. You dig out. And you discover.”
It’s worth the work to discover it, and it’s absolutely necessary to pursue it. It’s what makes us unique, and magnifies the image of God within us. Whatever it is, lean into it, pull on it, express it, celebrate it, hone it. NEVER be embarrassed by it. (Seriously, you aren’t allowed to enjoy the sound of the voice God has given you?!) As Comer says, “In this cosmic agenda, each of us has a vocation, a calling from God, a way that God wired us, somebody to be and something to do — because the two merge in perfect symmetry.”
Your thread is who you are and what you do. The two are inseparable. God wants you to spin that thread for your own satisfaction, the world’s benefit, and his glory.
It's no surprise that I’m pulling my thread again. I’m working on another iteration of the podcast. This one’s called Youth Ministry Sherpas Coast to Coast. I have new co-hosts (both in California), new vision. We might even make a YouTube Channel. On air, I’m sure I will say something benevolent, like “I hope this is helpful to youth workers.” But if I’m honest, I’m doing it for myself. That’s okay. It’s who I am, and who God made me to be.
Follow the thread and you’ll find who you are as well.