Yesterday I talked about one of my heroes, whom I met for the first time last Sunday, and how, upon meeting him, I discovered, lo and behold, that apparently I was one of his heroes. That led to some thoughts about how everyone has heroes and everyone is a hero to someone.

In this particular case, my hero was Chap Clark, Associate Provost of Regional Campuses and Special Projects and professor of youth, family, and culture at Fuller Theological Seminary, Pasadena, California, but I chose not to mention his name and very long title because the point of that writing was not who he is or what he does, but who we are to each other. To him, I was the rock star of his teen years, to me, he was one of the few people I had read who could beautifully articulate sacred moments in secular places. Chap would get all exited about the Christian guy who wanted to reach his community by starting a Christian coffeehouse until he realized his neighborhood already had one and maybe he should just go there.

I did imbed a link to Chap’s website in his picture in yesterday’s Catch, but I didn’t tell anybody that. I thought it would be a fun discovery for those who like to snoop around with their cursers. However, I got a number of emails from those who know Chap and were a little put out that I didn’t mention his name, and those who didn’t know him but wanted to know who he was. That’s certainly understandable, and that’s why I decided to identify him today. Today I decided to share him with you; yesterday I wanted to keep him to myself.

Marti and I were talking last night about the early 1970s when it seemed as if everyone you met wanted to know about Jesus, and why it’s so different now. Well, I think I know why. I think everyone is a little sick of Jesus (obviously not the right Jesus because you couldn’t possibly be sick of the right Jesus even if you didn’t like Him), and they are most certainly sick of Christians, because we took center stage and used it for all the wrong reasons. We didn’t listen to the guy Chap would have liked, and built our own Christian coffeehouses anyway, and now all the Christians go there.

It’s a different world now. It’s a post-Christian world. Billy Graham’s already been through town, and Christians have already had their 15 minutes of allotted fame; now it’s time to get down to living in our neighborhoods with Christ in our hearts. Start (or continue) getting on boards and committees to fix things and volunteering in your communities. Start (or continue) meeting over coffee, or what have you, and getting to know your neighbors at whatever coffeehouse they’ll go to. Start (or continue) making and building relationships with non-Christians. It’s going to be done in the trenches, and labels don’t mean anything anymore (they never did). My friend and hero, Chap Clark, would like that, too.