Drunken Confessions in The Bing

I am going home this week, back to my routes. Binghamton NY. "The 607". There is something that I know will go down no matter how I approach Binghamton. I will be confronted by a drunken confessional. Someone will get way too close to my nose with their hot, stank breath, and tell me about how they have been going to church lately. You see I grew up in a largely Catholic area. All my friends and acquaintances have something to do with the Catholic church. When I go home to visit my friends from high school, we will first go to "the pine"(a small crappy bar with an ugly atmosphere that everyone goes to solely for the reputation), and then we will go "downtown", where there is nothing but 40 bars in a row. Now, everyone knows that I was once the guy that brought the keg and then became the guy who prays for the people at the keg. They know that I was once a man ho, and now I am looking for someone to walk hand and hand with for the duration of well, eternity. They know that I am now "A Pastor"(dun dun dun). So here's the routine. I will walk into the bar and at least 1 person will consistently approach me with a drunken confession. This because they forgot they told me 5 minutes ago. And it will go like this.... "Bro, you still doin that priest thing where you cant have sex or get married?" To which I reply, "I am a pastor, and we believe in the greatness of sex inside the context of marriage." And then they will say, "O well, I have been trying to go to church but I just cant get out because I work on Sunday. And I don't really get drunk, this is just a celebration. And I am not going to hump my girlfriend after tonight, this is the last time I promise. And now I am serving in a children's home". And after that long, hopeful, plea of works, they stare at me and wonder if their wrap sheet is enough to save them. Is it enough for me to congratulate them, and accept them with grace? Is it enough that they can fall back on just in case the God of the universe is real and is coming with judgement? is it enough that the pastor will give them a sporty pat on the butt and say good game?

My heart aches for the seasonal church goers that say their 20 hail Mary's and serve at a soup kitchen to avoid damnation. I don't know what to do. I guess all I can do is bleed my RELATIONSHIP with Christ all over this world. Letting them know that grace and love come first, and serving at a soup kitchen is just an impulse reaction to the astounding truth that a bug huge gigantic God wants to be my Father, best friend and Savior. I love you Binghamton, and my heart will always ache for you wherever I am.