Stuff #4 – “Feed the hungry bird…”

Rolling on in the series, “STUFF I’VE PICKED UP ALONG THE WAY.”  This one also came from Ron Pinkston, by way of a few dozen conversations with people on the topic of “making disciples of Christ.”


STUFF #4 – When it comes to making disciples, influencing others towards good, encouraging people: FEED THE HUNGRY BIRD.

When I started volunteering with Jr & Sr High students, I knew that one of my responsibilities was to make disciples (aka ‘fully devoted followers of Christ.’) However, I didn’t have any idea just HOW I was supposed to do that. So, pre-the Google machine’s invention, I asked around. Called friends (on a touch tone land-line phone, even,) for recommendations. Some suggested a curriculum, studied in a classroom type setting, for a set number of weeks; others offered up a ‘y’all come’ approach, where any & everyone who showed up to class &/or youth group would be discipled (though I wasn’t exactly sure how that was supposed to happen. Still.)

I fumbled & stumbled through it, feeling overwhelmed, ill-equipped, & frustrated. Felt like I was failing at what I was trying to do. And then…

“If you want to make disciples & don’t know where to start, just FEED THE HUNGRY BIRD. Look for the student that wants to learn, wants to grow, & wants to spend time doing it. And then spend time with them.”

Don’t exactly remember the context for when/where I heard this saying, but I know when I did, a light bulb went on in my head. I could do that! And so I decided to experiment: one night at youth group, I told the handful of students, “Anyone who wants to grow in their relationship with Jesus & hang out with me before school, & drink coffee/eat a muffin at the City Cafe bakery, we’re meeting on Tuesdays @ 6 a.m. I’ll get you a ride to school as well.”


The next Tuesday, I showed up at the City Cafe as the doors were opening to the public… it was me & a few morning stragglers grabbing their coffee & a quick bite on their way to work. No one was sitting in the Cafe, so I got my cup (free refills For The Win #FTW) & parked at a table in the middle aisle of the restaurant. (It was a converted, barely remodeled Swensen’s Ice-Cream parlor. If you’ve been in one, you get the picture.) I was alone.

Every time one of the doors opened, I’d peek around to see if any brave souls were joining me in at the Crack O’Doom. For coffee & Jesus. For the longest time, (at least 10 minutes,) no students came… just early risers on their way to work. And then…

I’d heard the door, but had gotten tired of turning around to the disappointment of Yet Another not-student walking in the door. I focused on drinking my bottomless cup of joe, nibbling on a cobblestone muffin, & reading my Psalms.

Next thing I knew, I sensed someone’s presence nearby. It was Vic, a 7th grader from our youth group, standing there looking as awkward as I felt, & but as welcome as any Christmas morning I’d ever experienced. Somebody came! And now what to do.

Vic figured out the transactional part of the morning (coffee & a muffin for here in the cool green basket,) & came over & sat across from me. Drinking his coffee, slowly. Taking large bites of his muffin.

What to do next? He was here now, invited to come “grow in his relationship with Jesus.”


So we talked. Laughed. I listened to him, & prayed that I’d have something to say. His questions didn’t start on Jesus, the Bible or other spiritual topics, but somehow, they seemed to end up there.

Before I knew it, an hour had passed & it was time to take him to school – when I dropped him off, I can remember him saying, “So, we gonna do this again next week?”

I hadn’t thought of next week. But I said, “Yes. Of course. Same time, same place.” And he got a big smile on his face & said something like, “Cool. it was fun.” And he bailed.


Over that school year (& for the next several years that I lived in Carson City,) Tuesdays at the City Cafe became a ‘thing,’ at one point taking over most of the tables & booths in the restaurant. All Jr & Sr High students. All ordering coffee. All eating a muffin. All talking at their tables with friends, Youth sponsors (people there to help me with supervision & discipleship) & having a blast.

Being discipled. Encouraged towards Jesus. It was beautiful, & is still one of my favorite memories from my time in Carson.


Over the years, FEED THE HUNGRY BIRD came to mean – share time, space, & experiences with the people who WANT to gather, WANT to hang out, WANT to learn. Though it could sound trite, it really was true: the Holy Spirit set the agenda for what got addressed, & we never really needed a curriculum as He & life’s circumstances & challenges provided more materials than I could ever have wanted to have.

There’s no substitute for time together. For good conversation. For making time to listen. For saying, “I don’t know,” when you don’t know, & for heading to prayer for answers, comfort, & encouragement in those times.

It gives me great joy to know that many, many of those students are still walking with Jesus, now with spouses & their own kids (& some even have grandkids) more than 30 years later.

And it all started with Vic, the brave soul who took me up on my invite to grow in his relationship with Jesus. Over coffee. With a muffin. Before Jr High.

Happy birthday Johnny! Some musings on his #48 & other stuff…

This picture of my brothers & me is precious to me. Not exactly sure WHEN it was taken (is there a date on it, Mom?) but using the info I have & the general ages of the 4 of us  I’m guessing it would have been approximately 1986, making me 17ish, Johnny 13ish, Joel 9ish, & Ben 5. “Why were we wrestling?,” you might ask… & I’d say, “Because we COULD.” And wrestle we did. Play-fight. Battle Royale, early WWF style. Me against the 3 of them, as it seemed to them that the logic made perfect sense. I was the oldest, & therefore the brothers deemed a 3 to 1 advantage in their favor to be a Just & Perfectly Fair match. No one really got hurt in these battles, although charley horses, head butts, & the  bloody noses were the occasional scars & battle wounds that resulted from our time together. (FACT: only person to ever give me a bloody nose besides theBean – I’ll tell that story another time – was my brother Johnny. And he did it with great joy at least 3 times that I remember, each time being such a fortunate accident. Looking back, it cracks me up – from a young age he knew that it was always easier to ask forgiveness than permission. “I’m sorry I kneed you in the face twice, Louie. Please forgive me.” Seriously?


Today marks Johnny’s 48th birthday; it is the 31st (!) birthday of his that our family has marked since he went to heaven on Father’s Day 1990. As I sit at my desk right now, I’ve been listening to a Spotify playlist with a bunch of songs that remind me of my brother. There’s a bunch of them… because he was the Original Master MixTape Maker. A big chunk of the memories that I have of him in his Jr. High years are sitting in my room (his was next to mine) with a big BOOM box w/dual cassette player & a CD player too. Made mixing his tapes a little simpler, for sure, & he was always sure to include a hand-written playlist of the songs. What a great insight into the music & words that moved him, that stuck in his head.

Nothing like a song (or a smell for that matter) to take you back to a previous time & place.


Didn’t really know the depth & breadth of the hole left behind by Johnny’s death at 17…

Sure I knew all of us WOULD (parents, brothers, family, friends, etc…) KNOW & FEEL it, but it got really real when my kids started getting older & asking questions about family, life, & WHY things are the way they are. Things like –

  • …why couldn’t they meet ALL their uncles? They’ve often said that it wasn’t fair or right. (I’d have to agree, but life isn’t often fair…)
  • …when they wondered WHY they didn’t have any cousins near their ages. And they grieved that loss, the loss of what could have been.
  • …when they didn’t understand why their dad cried at their sporting events, because their intensity, approach, mindset, & body language reminded him of his brother.

As each of them became adults & had their own kids, it has come full circle. I think they get it more now than at any time before. Might just be my own wishful thinking, but I think they understand a little bit more about what they missed out on growing up at least 10-12 years older than the rest of their cousins.

They see it every time their kids (our grandkids) play together; every time their kids ask for their best friends(their cousins) to come over & play; every time at all-family get togethers when everythings-as-it-should-be & it’s beautiful, wonderful, & heavenly… & yet someone is still missing…


It’s funny, but during the last 10 months of the pandemic, I’ve thought about Johnny even more than ever. About his faith in Christ, his love for God’s Word, his ‘big-picture’ life-perspective on what is ‘worth’ doing (caring for others, offering & asking for forgiveness, playing hard & often, turning the music up to ’11’ among other stuff,) & what ISN’T worth doing (holding grudges, indulging ego, petty fights & nitpicking, compromising values & personhood to fit in, etc…)

He was my ‘little’/younger brother, but the way he lived in & through the moments of trial, trouble, physical & health challenges – I really looked up to him & his example in those things. We were best friends for most of our lives, but especially as he hit 12 & his early teens. We spent so much time together (commiserating over chores, folding & delivering newspapers, participating &/or watching sporting events, talking before going to sleep at night, all of it.) There’s still a hole there.


And yet… Today, I am thankful more than ever for my brothers, Joel & Ben – the men that they have become is really quite impressive. Their character, work ethic, devotion to their families… hardly a week goes by that I’m not referencing one or both of them, bragging on them from afar to whatever poor sucker happens to be in a conversation with me that happened to trigger a thought about those guys. I’m so proud of them & I treasure them & their friendship… & I know Johnny would have as well. No malark.

Happy birthday Johnny – miss you terribly.