So I once served at a church where my youth ministry was comprised of mainly gang kids. Kids who would shoot first and then ask questions later. It was a tough group, but I was called there so I planted in.
Some of the parents had asked me to get involved in the school as part of the PTA to help with the students and I figured it would be a great way to get to know the teens and for them to know me. I was a little weary of joining up with a bunch of moms and being the only guy there, as I would be outnumbered on every vote, But I joined up and thought, "what could go wrong?"
Because of my drama background, they had asked me to get involved in a play that they were doing at the school. They were doing a "rip van winkle" theme and talking about sleeping through life and missing out.
We had several parents who were gifted in making costumes and I being the only man in the group was given the manual labor of helping the kids build the set.
We were on the set one early Saturday and I was laying on the ledge trying to nail some pieces together when one of the mothers, Mrs Smith, said that she had a costume for me to try on. So I rolled over the ledge and reached down and held it up to look at it. She asked me to try it on and see if it fit me properly as I was the same size as the teen who would be wearing it. I quickly climbed down and went across the yard to the restroom to try it on.
It was a long nightgown of hideous colors and horendous designs cut into it. It was ugly as ugly could be. It was a great costume. As I was walking across the courtyard to get back into the room to show Mrs Smith, I noticed some of the "boys" from one of the gangs I had been trying to get with and meet, hanging around the yard and I hollered out to them to say hi. One on them yelled back, "hey preacher man where did you get the god-forsaken gown?" I recognized the boy and Mrs Smith's son, so I hollered back, this morning. I rolled over and got it from your mom.
The last thing I remember was what must have been a horde of wild animals charging at me and hearing me scream like a little girl. I awoke three hours later sore and bruised and beaten. Mrs Smith even yelled at me for tearing the costume...
And that is why I will never join the PTA again.
