In 1981 I became the Assistant Minister at Central Christian Church in Pueblo. Thus began another experience of doing something I said I would never do. I backed into ministry, sort of an experiment in looking for a loophole. People often ask me how did you choose to become a pastor? My simple answer is— it’s sort of like the sculptor who is asked how he is going to carve an elephant out of a block of marble. “I just chip away everything that does not look like an elephant and what is left is an elephant”. When I was in seminary from 1973-77 I specialized in being different. I knew that I was too unorthodox to ever lead in a local church. Well, I figured that going through a divorce and living in my parent’s basement would ensure a different career path.
I got a phone call from Charles Whitmer, who I had known since I was eight. Charles was serving in his 24th year at the church of my growing up. He asked me to come in and see him as he wanted to talk to me about the state of my life. I will try to sum up the conversation like this. “Mark, I really need you to come to work here and help me”. “Charles, I just can’t right now, I am not even sure I believe in God”. “Mark, that doesn’t matter, I know you and I know God”. He would not give up. We agreed that I would start in July part time and see how things worked out. I began being in charge of the youth program which had about 30 kids. Now, I am a youth pastor.
I figured I could make Sunday afternoon fun as we had two vans and a gym. So, I began my life as a pastor in the local church. (I had served five years as a chaplain before my life fell apart). It was before “Field of Dreams” but my strategy was “Build it and they will come”. They did. I remember on a Sunday night we sat down with a flip chart and I had them brainstorm the things they would like to do. At the top of the list was a trip to Denver to go to Casa Bonita. I asked them what Casa Bonita was. Their explanation was simply ‘it’s this big restaurant on Colfax where they have cliff divers, video games and all the sopapillas you can eat ’. I was game.
Sometime that fall on a Saturday we headed up I-25 in two vans and a couple of cars to experience Casa Bonita. We got there in the late morning and three hours later we left full of marginal food and lots and lots of laughs. Thus began my five years as the pastor to these kids… and finding my faith. I would say my faith moved from my head to make friends with my heart. I learned a ton about being a pastor as I shadowed the best local church pastor I ever knew, Charles Whitmer.
At least twice a year youth of Pueblo Central Church would head north to take in Casa Bonita, or the Organ Grinder Pizza extravaganza on Alameda. Casa Bonita was goofy, quirky, cheesey, cheap, and good for a whole day of keeping youth connected. The ritual went off as part of a portfolio of camps, mission trips, weekly meetings, and actually growing faith.
Casa Bonita gained national attention when the “South Park” satirical cartoon series featured it in their backdrop of Real Colorado. Over the years when we needed to eat and have a laugh we would go to Casa Bonita. When our daughter Stephanie brought her then—new husband Patrick, (the LA film editor) to experience her home in Colorado, the first thing he asked to do was Casa Bonita… heck with the the Broncos.
Casa Bonita really struggled through Covid and just wearing thin. South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone to the rescue. They bought the nearly 50 year—old business and announced they were going to bring it back to life. And so they did. For the first year of its opening it was nearly impossible to get a seat. Mary Kay put herself on a list and bingo—we got a table at 1:45 on a Thursday.
I had not been there for at least five years but the kid in me was still excited. It was great. The food has improved, the price has skyrocketed, and two sopapillas were my limit. The cliff divers were great and Black Bart’s Cave was silly as ever. It’s amazing what a few million extra dollars can do to bring a tired old space back to life.
Back to my five years as the Pueblo youth pastor. A couple of years ago I got a beautiful message on Facebook from one of the youth who was part of that whole five years. “Pastor Mark, I have wanted you to know this about your time with my brother and me. Every Sunday you would give about 12 of us a ride home after youth group. You had no idea of how painful our home life was. I can honestly say that those weekly trips home kept me alive. You have no idea the impact that our time in CYF had on me. I just wanted you to know what a difference all the things we did that helped my life”. There was more, but that sums it up. He referenced our field trips to Casa Bonita, which became church for those kids.
Onward and Upward,
Mark
Lyfting Me Up 