Jarrod Jones

I’m a loner. Maybe that’s why I liked the picture of the lonely blue chair you see flashing at the top of my site. It kind of explains me. So, by virtue of this reality, this blog will be strongly narcissistic.

My wife knows this loner thing about me well. It was quite an adjustment for us when we first got married. I blame it on my selfish genes and my single days. I was single until I was 31 years old. I ate almost every meal by myself in those days… willingly. It’s a miracle that I’m married. I wasn’t a monk (although close). I still hung out with friends here and there but kept to myself most of the time. Now that I have a family, I enjoy eating out with them more, of course. I love having that time with Christie to casually chat, and laugh, goof around with the boys, and eat their leftovers. Still I enjoy being alone– going to the mall, bookstores, coffee shops, restaurants, even the movies alone.

I spent three-and-a-half years in seminary living in an 11×14 room. I rarely ate in the cafeteria. I couldn’t afford it. Even if I could have afforded it, I would have opted to eat alone in my room anyway.  I’m not saying spending so much time alone was completely profitable but to some extent it was for me. I survived on Honey Nut Cheerios, kidney beans, sardines, an occasional Chinese buffet, and coffee. Yes, I had constant heartburn. But being social gave me heartburn too.  Still does to a degree.

I’ve done the last 10 years of ministry alone (humanly speaking)–airplanes, rental cars, hotel rooms, camp dorms, restaurants, and so forth. But I rarely felt lonely.  Some people refuel being around people, hanging out, talking about sports, drinking coffee, eating lunch, debating theology, praying together, and such. Not me. My tank is filled by being alone. Not alone for alone’s sake, but sacred-time-with-Jesus-alone in which I don’t feel rushed, busy, or anxious about what has to be done. It also relieves me from having to be on my social A-game, or B-game, or D-game. A rarity for a minister….

Right now, I’m in Des Moines, Iowa. The conference host flew me in a day early to avoid my potential tardiness or absence due to weather related flight delays or cancellations. I confess that it has been incredibly refreshing. The conference will be blessed greatly I just know it. They unknowingly granted me alone time to be focused and filled by the Holy Spirit.

On that note, being alone in a hotel room grants me personal space to allow the Spirit of God to examine and expose anything in my soul I’ve denied or avoided. It forces me to deal with sin in my life. It makes me wrestle with what kind of husband, father, leader, and pastor I’ve been. I keep the TV turned off the majority of the time so that I can’t run from “stuff.”  I read a lot. I journal a lot. I repent a lot.

Right now, I miss my family, and my family misses me. The tremendous payoff though is that I nearly always come back a bit refreshed in spirit. In other words, I come back a slightly better husband and dad.  I believe this is the upside of my travels to Christie.

In addition, I am burdened I won’t be with the Grace family to preach Sunday morn. I love them deeply, and they love me and my family deeply. But the upside is that I will come back spiritually, emotionally, and mentally, and ministerially recalibrated.  As a matter of fact, I spent 12 hours on a sermon that I was going to preach next Sunday at Grace.  Yesterday, I tossed the sermon in the digital and hotel room trash bin. The Lord has revealed a whole other direction for me to go Scripturally, not only next Sunday, but for the next 8 weeks. Without this brief time alone would I have known?

Amazing what 3 days alone can do. Yes, I’ll be speaking 4 different times this weekend, but it’s a conference with over a thousand people so no pressure for me to be social. And that means after speaking for 40 minutes, a few hellos, and a couple of conversations, my hotel room, restaurant booth, Bible, journal, and a good book await me like a cozy blanket to the soul. Being a loner has tremendous benefits.  And not only do I reap the benefits, but those closest to me do too.

1) Prep with Advil and get a good night’s sleep the night before.

2) Drinks lots of coffee next morn.

3) When in woods search out a good spot for relieving coffee. Careful. Two words for you—poison ivy.

4) Have dad, or capable and willing friend, to chainsaw the wood. This will save your life.

5) Take axe in one hand, beat your chest with the other, and yell.  Recommend yelling and beating your chest after every third solid wood split. (Girls are excluded from this primal male activity).

6) If right handed, swing axe upward, left hand under right hand on handle, step left foot forward, and slam axe into wood. Loud grunts are recommended. 

7) If you’re left handed, good luck.

8. If wood is knotted, don’t bother. Hours will be spent on said piece of wood. Only splinters will be your reward. Losing Christianity as a result is possibility. 

9) Be wary of missing wood with axe head and striking with axe handle. Hands will feel as if on fire. Dirty words will form in mind and possibly exit through lips.

10) After piling wood in truck, yell out a big high-pitched “wheeeeew!” followed by a deep throaty “Yeeaah!” This is just what a man does after splitting wood.

11) Call wife. (You’re calling as if to say, “I’ve endangered my life to provide a fire in our home that puts out no heat. But I’m safe and coming home. And I love you.”  But what you’re really calling to say is, “Hey, I’m awesome. Can’t wait to show you the briar cuts on my arm. And I’m hungry.”

12)  When at home, slightly grunt, groan, and walk with a limp while bent slightly at the waist, sigh a lot, and talk about how “worn out” you are. (Be careful not to overdo).

13) Track a little bit of dirt and wood splinters into the house but not too much as to tick off your wife. Again, the trick is prove hard work and sacrifice via dirt and grime. The goal is to coerce amazement and attraction. Too much dirt in the house is a death knell to that.

A final word to the women:

Please “oooh” and “aaaah” when you see the truck full of split wood, our cuts, and our dirty clothes. Tell us we’re amazing and that we’re your hero.   And feed us chili.