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christian counseling today
VOL. 22 NO. 1
M
y friend, Calvin, is an
Uber monk. He hasn’t
always been a monk.
For many years, he was
involved in a church planting movement
among the Sukuma Tribe in North-
ern Tanzania that resulted in more
than 100 new congregations. Then he
moved close to Nashville, to serve a
local church. However, that didn’t work
out and he found himself looking for a
source of income to support his family
of five. That is when he got the idea to
become an Uber monk.
Calvin had taken a job driving for
Uber.
©
He was drawn to what seemed
like a “humble job” for an in-between
time in his life. But during the early
days of his driving, he got an idea. He
had been praying for God to bring the
type of people into his life who would
never have walked through the doors
of an established, traditional church.
Real people. Hurting people. Rough
around the edges. “Lord, bring me those
people,” he prayed as he drove.
Then Calvin realized that his prayer
was already being answered. What if his
car became a place for ministry… what
if it became a monastery on wheels?
He had heard of a group in New
York City known as the “Taxi Cab
Philosophers.” And philosophy is about
wisdom for living, so he started think-
ing: “How can I use this work to give
glory to God?”
So, Calvin bought a habit from an
online habitry shop. He chose a gray
one with a brown scapula and hung a
cross from the rearview mirror and put
signs up all over the car. One of his
daughters helped with the design work
that featured a likeness of himself as a
monk and the words:
“Friendship with Jesus is one of the
greatest opportunities and privileges
in this life. So if there is any way
that I can be helpful as we drive, I’d
like to do so—prayer, silence and
solitude, listening… let me know.”
“Have you ever had anyone react
negatively to your monking around
without a license to wear a habit?” I
asked.
“No, I really haven’t had any push-
back. I did have one guy who read the
sign and said pretty quickly, ‘I’ll take
the silence, please.’ So, I gave him the
solitude of a monastery for his ride, and
a smile when he got out.”
And about the licensed part, it
should be pointed out that Calvin is
an ordained minister who is pursuing
a doctorate in practical ministry with a
concentration in desert spirituality.
“Have there been any significant
surprises?” I asked.
“My biggest surprise,” Calvin con-
tinued, “is that so many people seem
to welcome the chance to open up in
this type of context. I don’t know if it’s
just setting the tone or the randomness
of the encounter, but most start telling
me things they probably would only tell
their bartender.”
“I’ve had people confess extra-
marital affairs,” he continued, “talk
about divorce, trouble with their kids
or spouses, and trouble in life of every
type. And a lot of people have a ton
of anger toward the institution of the
Church. Those are the people my heart
goes out to the most. I just listen and
then apologize on behalf of the Church.
I’ve had several men break down into
tears telling their stories.”
What is the most common request?
“Intercessory prayer,” Calvin answered.
“And, that shouldn’t surprise me. What
gave me the idea to become an Uber
monk in the first place was when a ‘real
monk’ told me that the most frequent
question he got while wearing his habit
in public was, ‘Will you pray for me?’”
Calvin is a pretty creative monk.
He’s even started a program called,
“Turning Back the Meter.” He is trying
to memorize large blocks of Scripture,
and if a person is willing to hold the
memory card and correct his errors,
he’ll roll back some of the price. I
couldn’t help asking if he ever ended
up owing money to passengers when
he was memorizing long passages, like
Psalm 119, but just as a good monk
would, he discerned and answered only
with silence.
“It helps me,” he eventually contin-
ued, “but my primary motivation is for
the person to be exposed to some of the
most beautiful and loving words about
God ever written.”
And Calvin has had experiences in
conversation where, “It felt like the car
was electric with the presence of God,
like I was in the pleasure of God in that
moment.”
“And I had one man who began the
40-minute drive by announcing he was
an atheist… but then he started talking
about being excommunicated from the
Church in a brutal way. And he made
it clear up front, ‘I don’t have room
for God.’ By the middle of the ride, he
began to talk about a recent interest in
Buddhism… and by the end of the ride,
he asked me to pray with him for heal-
ing in the rift that was present between
himself and Jesus.”
“But, why the habit?” I asked, again.
“Well, I thought it was less invasive
than a tattoo. And, while I’ve not taken
any formal vows, I do try to live by
commitment to simplicity, service, and
chastity in my marriage. It also speaks
to a deep desire I have for a commit-
ted way to live that is instantly visible
to others. I have a burning desire to live
very intentionally and more visibly as a
Christian.”
“What has this experience taught
«
GARY W. MOON, PH.D.
reflections
Becoming an Uber Monk