If you've never been in my office at the Annex, you're one lucky hombre. While the outer office that leads to mine is replete with sensible furniture and spartan accoutrement befitting a frugal church plant; crossing the threshold into my office is like stepping into my basement bedroom in 1977 (except I have a really big Mac with dual 21" monitors now, instead of the Craig 8-track/phonograph/stereo receiver combo that used to sit on my door...um desk.
That I don't have three weeks worth of dirty laundry strewn about the floors of my office notwithstanding, the vibe is exactly the same. Instead of Farah Fawcett posters, I have posters of youth series from the past and giant six-month look-ahead dry erase planners. Instead of piles of schoolbooks and loose papers I forgot to turn in to my 11th-grade Western Civilization teacher, I have books by Stanley, Hybels, Rainer; more Bibles than Dove Christian Supply, and notes from countless meetings, seminars, and sermons piled halfway to the ceiling. Instead of Kletter boots, macrame belts and ceramic bongs, I have metal sculpture, brass rubbings and a really cool medieval sword I stole from my 14 year-old. Pretty much everything else is the same.
When Leslie, my wife, first saw how I had decorated my office at the Annex she was mortified. She certainly remembers how my teenage basement bedroom looked in 1977. The flashback must have been jarring to her sensibilities. She lobbied hard for something a bit more...um, adult? Pastor-like? I fought it as long as I could. I now see the error of my ways.
And so it is - with the reality of nearing "the new thirty" and the growth of my responsibilities - that for the next couple of days I shall undertake to make every possible effort to re-adorn my office in such a manner that reflects the maturity of its primary occupant. Out with the 3'x7' door I use for a desk. Out with twenty-two posters and pictures thumb-tacked (or taped) to my wall. Out with the detritus of disorganization that is crammed into every conceivable nook and cranny. And IN with a simple glass-topped, aluminum framed L-shaped desk unit that leaves plenty of room for visitors in modest but respectable chairs. Maybe people will actually visit me in my office now, free from the fear of spontaneous teleportation to a time of head shops, Levi's 501 button-front jeans, and 'Keep on Truckin' t-shirts.
Having said all that, while I am willing to make the leap to semi-respectability, you are all duly warned that (as long as there's i-tunes or 8-track tape players) Kansas, Boston and Chicago may only be geographic references to you - but they are simply magic to me, and will playing...quietly...in the background.
Out.
