In my more sane moments, I do have to go back and questions what I was thinking. Actually, that's something I have to do a lot. But at the time, we needed the money.
And so did those teens I was working with. It seems so long ago now, but the danger seemed real enough then. And please realize that I was not alone in the absurdity of my thinking.
I take you back to a country church where I used to serve. Car washes would have been a waste of time for this youth group, because most people in the country liked a little dirt on their trucks. But have a fundraising contest to see who would have to kiss a pig and now you've piqued their curiosity.
Myself, another associate and a lay member all laid our lips on the line. The premise was that each of us would have a jar. Whichever jar had the most money, that owner would have to kiss a pig. A time limit of two months was set and cash was flying.
The associate pastor seemed okay with the possibility that he might have to pucker up for a pig. But he hadn't had any dates in a while, so a kiss is a kiss. The lay member was a country boy who seemed perhaps a bit too willing to be in the contest. That left me, a somewhat loud city boy who feared he would become the favored target.
The morning of the great unveiling, I drove into the parking lot to find the biggest pig I have ever seen. My wife started to worry that the money she had put in my jar might lead to my having some severe neck and facial wounds.
Speaking that morning, I attempted charm and wit to dissuade any last givers from putting me over the top, but my fate was sealed. As it turned out, one man decided all three of us should win. Oh happy day!
All is well that ends well. The youth group raised over $800 and the large, angry, snarling pig had a piglet for each of us to kiss. And since I love bacon, the kiss wasn't the worst I've ever had. I just hope the piglet can say the same.