Only two things happen late at night in a church parking lot—a drug deal or an affair—and neither one take very long.

On a regular basis, I pull into the church parking lot at night and I see a car in a place it shouldn’t be. Whenever this happens I always follow the same procedure—approach fast, turn on your bright lights, and come at the people with great force. Yes, I learned this in seminary.

An Affair

A few years ago, a friend of mine was with me when we pulled into the parking lot late at night and saw a car parked in the darkness. My friend was driving so I told him the procedure—go fast, right as you get up to the car turn on your bright lights, and I’ll get out and question them.

He hit the gas, sped through the parking lot, turned on his bright lights and I swung my door open. However, as my first foot hit the pavement, he allowed the car to jerk forward. It felt like my hip came out of socket. I stumbled out of the passenger seat and tripped to the driver’s side window of the suspect’s car. With a firm voiced I asked, “Are you guys alright.” Seeing I was in tremendous pain, the driver responded, “Are YOU alright?”

I wasn’t very effective that night, but maybe I broke up the romantic mood for a church parking lot rendezvous. One important lesson I learned: if you need a partner in police work or the pastorate, never pick a Computer Science major.

A Drug Deal

It is not unusual for us to find drugs at the church. A few years ago we found marijuana growing in a wooded area at one location. You know you are destined for great success when you are growing illegal drugs on church property.

One day following the service we found a suspicious object in our children’s area. It was on a key chain, with a purple cylinder which was filled with a white, powdery substance.

I called a church member who has experience in narcotics (take that to mean whatever you want it to) and ask his opinion. I described it, but it didn’t quite match anything. It wasn’t pure enough to be cocaine. It wasn’t the right substance to be heroin. It could have been crystal meth but he wasn’t sure.

During the week, someone stopped by the office and we showed him the item we found. We told him we couldn’t identify the substance. He opened the lid and tasted it. He said the substance didn’t bring anything to mind although I’m not sure what he was expecting it to bring to mind.

Finally, I did what anyone would do—I googled it. I found several hits on ebay for the exact object we had found. For $9.99 you, too, can own a pet urn and always have your deceased pet with you. Unless, of course, you lose it, at which point the remnants of your pet might be eaten by an overzealous and apparently former drug user.

FBI?

Last year I did a ride-a-long with the Police Department. I was dressed in my normal Sunday attire—golf shirt, jeans, and black shoes. We received a call to be the backup at a domestic dispute. When we arrived at the small apartment complex, a few police cars were already present. The tension had died down and several cops were questioning people. On a few calls that night I was told to stay in the car, but as the officer put the car in park he told me to “come on.” So I got out of the car and followed right behind him. As we made our way to the apartment, several kids were watching the excitement. As I passed one, he looked up at me and said, “Dang, they called in the F.B.I.”

Apparently FBI agents dress like out of touch contemporary church pastors with golf shirts, jeans, and black shoes. Of course, in-touch contemporary church pastors with designer T-shirts, skinny jeans, and flip flops dress like undercover narcotics officers.

So to summarize:

If you ever find yourself having an affair in a church parking lot, you might want to ask where your life has gone.

If you are ever tempted to taste-test drugs in your pastor’s office, don’t.

And, if you think you are cool because you are in the FBI, you aren’t because you dress like a pastor.