I remember a day – not so long ago – where those of us in ministry needed to purchase a computer to organize our thoughts, partake in the vastness we call the interwebs, and design “cutting edge” bulletins, PowerPoint backgrounds, and flyers to hang above the urinals in the men’s bathroom. I would say that we designed flyers to hang in the women’s bathrooms, but having a man enter a women’s restroom, especially in the church, seemed sort of ungodly. So we let the women do their womanly thing and decorate to their hearts content. I’m not even sure I’ve entered a women’s bathroom in any church for any reason – not that I would have any reason to anyway – I’m just saying.

Just for the record, this post really has nothing to do with women’s restroom or men’s restrooms for that matter; I simply have gone on a tangent and feel too lazy to hit the backspace button. So, on I go.

After we purchased the PC, assuredly a Dell for obvious monetary reasons, and just when us pastors started getting comfortable using it, we decided that we needed to get with the times and purchase a laptop, for no other reason besides convenience. We’d take it on planes, we thought, as we traveled to different conferences and Christian conventions. We’d take it to our annual, semi-annual, quarterly, and bi-monthly denominational gatherings. It’d get more use than any other technical device we’d ever own. Or so we thought.

But just as soon as we started getting comfortable with our laptop, along came smart phones. Who needs the PC, let alone laptop, anymore when you can do everything you need for your message preparation right from the palm of your hand? Mind-boggling. Who knew you could search the internet, read the Bible, and type out full sermons right from your phone?

Steve Jobs seemed to know, that’s fo sho (for sure, for all you old schoolers).

Along with our new smart phone came a new look as well; our suits weren’t good enough for our contemporary services anymore so we ditched the tie and purchased pre-washed jeans and Abercrombie shirts. We stopped “being so religious” and decided to become more “real” and “transparent” – all for the sake of the ministry.

We attended more conferences and drank from the contemporary cup. We started looking more and more like Rob Bell and Mark Driscoll and thought that if we used words like “post-modern” and “emerging” and “relational” and “life groups” that our churches, somehow miraculously, would start to grow. We’d text our attendance count to our other pastor-buddies and see the fruits of our technically-savvy labor.

It was like this and working well until something beautiful came along and ruined our flow: the iPad.

Thanks again, Steve.

Now our problems are solved, or so it seems. Who needs, though we still have them in our offices and at our homes, those PC’s and laptop’s and smart phone’s anymore when we have the one tool that will change the course of our sermon preparation?

We’ve forgotten where we put our old Bible. The same Bible that has our name engraved in gold at the bottom, right next to the Jesus fish; the one our grandparents or mom bought us back when we “received the call” to be a pastor. They were so proud.

We’ve donated our suits, all but one for the occasional wedding or funeral, to a local charity. We now devote our time to coffee shops and internet bars, scouring the web – on our Apple iPad – for the next best relational sermon; for something we have yet to preach on.

You know, I’ve been immersed in this lifestyle just like the next guy. But here’s the thing: I really think it’s time, at least for me, to drop it all, grab a pencil and paper and my Bible, walk out to the altar, pray and write. It just seems like I’ve been missing something. And I don’t want to miss it anymore.