the defining moment of a relationship

It was a moment I'll never forget. One of those defining moments that not only shows you who you are, but who you want to be.

Two summers ago, Pastor Mike invited all of the church staff to his house for a lake day. We probably had a meeting that morning before going out on the lake after lunch but all I remember is that I was determined to learn to wake surf. I’m competitive, although mostly with myself, and I find so much worth in succeeding that if I don’t think it’s something I can do, I won’t even attempt it. Something within me believed I was capable that day.

After trying and falling and trying and falling, I finally got up and stayed up on the water. Woo-hoo! I can wake surf like a boss.

I know, you expected more build up to that success, but that’s not the real story of the day.

Still hyped on adrenaline, I knew I had to give other people a chance to have fun on the water so we put the wake surf away & got out the tube. After a few rounds, Karen, Vinnie & I jumped on together. I took the middle because you’re less likely to fall off than the person on the outside. The downside to the middle is that you have to share handles. So Karen and I were double grasping on my left and Vinnie and I were sharing the handhold on my right. Lest you think the word “Pastor” in front of his name means he’s gracious, let me assure you that Pastor Mike drives his boat on the lake like you’re toilet paper on the bottom of his shoe that he’s frantically trying to shake loose. His one goal when pulling a tube is to empty it. Well, well. If that doesn't fan the flame of my drive to succeed, nothing does. Forget wake surfing. And forget Karen and Vinnie. My new goal was just to stay on, whatever it took.

After a while, we lost Karen and it was just Vinnie and me left. I hardly knew this kid because he’d only been our Youth Pastor for a few months and I’d only really met him at Mosaic maybe twice before he became my coworker. He was cool and all but I had something to prove. Now that there was no middle, I had to employ all the tricks for staying on. I propped my outside knee up on the edge of the tube, leaning into the wake hard when Mike thew us outside of it. My muscles were shaking but I was not about to submit to defeat.

At one point, Mike got me. I started to slip and I saw Vinnie reach across to push me in. “Here it comes,” I thought “defeat to the new kid.” He grabbed my wrist and I held my breath, preparing to hit the water. Then, confusion. Instead of leveraging my off-balance equilibrium to throw me off - which, let me be clear, is 100% what I would have done in the reverse situation - Vinnie yanked me toward him and pulled my arm across the tube, toward his handle. He secured me and smiled with a “Not today, Team Metro” glance. I’m fairly certain that I flew off quickly afterward because I was so overcome by this seemingly small act that in my existential processing I forgot I was still under Pastor Mike’s control.

Something in that day, that moment, cemented Vinnie’s imprint in my heart. Neither of us knew that months later, he’d become my teammate, my sidekick, my partner on Sunday mornings. Neither of us knew that “Not today” would become our connective and encouraging mantra when things fell down around us as we grew up in ministry together. Neither of us knew how prophetic that moment on the tube would be of the next few years, when Vinnie would metaphorically pull me back up when I felt like I was on the verge of going under.

And now, God is calling him to a new chapter. I am so happy for all that this move will bring for his family, for his future and for the people of Pittsburgh. But I am so sad for me. Thank you, Vin, for teaching me that success doesn’t have to come at the cost of others. Thank you for teaching me how loving people and bringing others with you is always better than winning more quickly on your own. Tears will fall because the absence of you by my side will feel empty. But we won’t let that stop Team Metro.

Not today, satan. Not today.